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Naked Empire :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 484 из 495It was going to be a long night. Kahlan didn't think she was going to be able to sleep until she knew if Richard would be all right.
Zedd pointed. "There's another one, there, that needs to be cleaned up," he said to Chase.
Chase wore a chain-mail shirt over a tan leather tunic. His heavy black trousers held a black belt set with a large silver buckle emblazoned with the emblem of the boundary wardens. Beneath his black cloak, strapped everywhere-legs, waist, upper arms, over the backs of his shoulders-was a small arsenal of weapons, everything from small thin spikes held in the fist and used to puncture the skull to a crescent-shaped battle-axe used to divide a skull cleanly with one blow. Chase was deadly with any of them.
It had been a while now since they needed the skills of a boundary warden. Chase seemed to be a man without a mission.
The big man walked across the rampart and bent to pull a knife from beneath the body.
He grunted in recognition. "There it is." He held the walnut-handled knife up to the light as he inspected it. "I was worried I'd lost it."
He slipped the knife into an empty sheath without having to look. With one hand, he grabbed the waistband of the trousers and picked up the stiff body. He stepped into an opening in the crenellated wall and heaved the body out into the air.
Zedd looked over the edge. It was a drop of several thousand feet before the rock of the mountain flared enough for anything falling to make contact. It was several thousand more feet down a granite cliff before the forest began.
The golden sun was getting low in the mountains. The clouds had taken on streaks, of gold and orange. From this distance, the city below was as beautiful as ever, except Zedd knew that it was an empty place without the people to bring it life.
"Chase, Zedd," Rachel called from the doorway, "the stew is ready."
Zedd threw his skinny arms into the air. "Bags! It's about time! A man could starve waiting for stew to cook."
Rachel planted her fist with the wooden spoon on her hip and shook a finger of her other hand at him. "If you keep saying bad words, you'll not get any dinner."
Chase let out a sigh as he glanced over at Zedd. "And you think you have troubles. You wouldn't think that a girl who doesn't come up to my belt buckle could be such a trial."
Zedd followed Chase to the doorway through the thick stone wall. "Is she always this much trouble?"
Chase mussed Rachel's hair on the way past. "Always," he confided.
"Is the stew good?" Zedd asked.
Zedd pointed. "There's another one, there, that needs to be cleaned up," he said to Chase.
Chase wore a chain-mail shirt over a tan leather tunic. His heavy black trousers held a black belt set with a large silver buckle emblazoned with the emblem of the boundary wardens. Beneath his black cloak, strapped everywhere-legs, waist, upper arms, over the backs of his shoulders-was a small arsenal of weapons, everything from small thin spikes held in the fist and used to puncture the skull to a crescent-shaped battle-axe used to divide a skull cleanly with one blow. Chase was deadly with any of them.
It had been a while now since they needed the skills of a boundary warden. Chase seemed to be a man without a mission.
The big man walked across the rampart and bent to pull a knife from beneath the body.
He grunted in recognition. "There it is." He held the walnut-handled knife up to the light as he inspected it. "I was worried I'd lost it."
He slipped the knife into an empty sheath without having to look. With one hand, he grabbed the waistband of the trousers and picked up the stiff body. He stepped into an opening in the crenellated wall and heaved the body out into the air.
Zedd looked over the edge. It was a drop of several thousand feet before the rock of the mountain flared enough for anything falling to make contact. It was several thousand more feet down a granite cliff before the forest began.
The golden sun was getting low in the mountains. The clouds had taken on streaks, of gold and orange. From this distance, the city below was as beautiful as ever, except Zedd knew that it was an empty place without the people to bring it life.
"Chase, Zedd," Rachel called from the doorway, "the stew is ready."
Zedd threw his skinny arms into the air. "Bags! It's about time! A man could starve waiting for stew to cook."
Rachel planted her fist with the wooden spoon on her hip and shook a finger of her other hand at him. "If you keep saying bad words, you'll not get any dinner."
Chase let out a sigh as he glanced over at Zedd. "And you think you have troubles. You wouldn't think that a girl who doesn't come up to my belt buckle could be such a trial."
Zedd followed Chase to the doorway through the thick stone wall. "Is she always this much trouble?"
Chase mussed Rachel's hair on the way past. "Always," he confided.
"Is the stew good?" Zedd asked.