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Tarnsman of Gor :: Норман Джон
Страница: 64 из 145" Evidently she believed that I had been afraid to harm her and that she, the daughter of a Ubar, remained above the perils and obligations of the common captive. She looked at me insolently, angry that she had so demeaned herself as to kneel before a coward. She tossed her head back and snorted. "Well, Warrior," she said, "what would you have me do?"
"Remove your clothing," I said.
She looked at me in rage.
"I told you," I said, "I am not going to take any more a chances with you. I have to find out if you have any more weapons."
"No man may look upon the daughter of the Ubar," she said.
"Either you will remove your robes," I said, "or I shall."
In fury the hands of the Ubar's daughter began to fumble with the hooks of her heavy robes.
She had scarcely removed a braided loop from its hook when her eyes suddenly lit with triumph and a sound of joy escaped her lips.
"Don't move," said a voice behind me. "You are covered with a crossbow."
"Well done, Men of Ar," exclaimed the daughter of the Ubar.
I turned slowly, my hands away from my body, and found myself facing two of the foot soldiers of Ar, one of them an officer, the other of common rank. The latter had trained his crossbow on my breast. At that distance he could not have missed, and if he had fired at that range, most probably the quarrel would have passed through my body and disappeared in the woods behind. The initial velocity of a quarrel is the better part of a pasang per second.
The officer, a swaggering fellow whose helmet, though polished, bore the marks of combat, approached me, holding his sword to me, and seized my weapon from its scabbard and the girl's dagger from my belt. He looked at the signet on the dagger hilt and seemed pleased. He placed it in his own belt and took from a pouch at his side a pair of manacles, which he snapped on my wrists. He then turned to the girl.
"You are Talena," he said, tapping the dagger, "daughter of Marianna?
"You see I wear the robes of the Ubar's daughter," said the girl, scarcely deigning to respond to the officer's question. She paid her rescuers no more attention, treating them as if they were no more worthy of her gratitude than the dust beneath her feet. She strode to face me, her eyes mocking and triumphant, seeing me shackled and in her power. She spat viciously in my face, which insult I accepted, unmoving. Then, with her right hand, she slapped me savagely with all the force and fury of her body. My cheek felt as though it had been branded.
"Are you Island? asked the officer, once again, patiently.
"Remove your clothing," I said.
She looked at me in rage.
"I told you," I said, "I am not going to take any more a chances with you. I have to find out if you have any more weapons."
"No man may look upon the daughter of the Ubar," she said.
"Either you will remove your robes," I said, "or I shall."
In fury the hands of the Ubar's daughter began to fumble with the hooks of her heavy robes.
She had scarcely removed a braided loop from its hook when her eyes suddenly lit with triumph and a sound of joy escaped her lips.
"Don't move," said a voice behind me. "You are covered with a crossbow."
"Well done, Men of Ar," exclaimed the daughter of the Ubar.
I turned slowly, my hands away from my body, and found myself facing two of the foot soldiers of Ar, one of them an officer, the other of common rank. The latter had trained his crossbow on my breast. At that distance he could not have missed, and if he had fired at that range, most probably the quarrel would have passed through my body and disappeared in the woods behind. The initial velocity of a quarrel is the better part of a pasang per second.
The officer, a swaggering fellow whose helmet, though polished, bore the marks of combat, approached me, holding his sword to me, and seized my weapon from its scabbard and the girl's dagger from my belt. He looked at the signet on the dagger hilt and seemed pleased. He placed it in his own belt and took from a pouch at his side a pair of manacles, which he snapped on my wrists. He then turned to the girl.
"You are Talena," he said, tapping the dagger, "daughter of Marianna?
"You see I wear the robes of the Ubar's daughter," said the girl, scarcely deigning to respond to the officer's question. She paid her rescuers no more attention, treating them as if they were no more worthy of her gratitude than the dust beneath her feet. She strode to face me, her eyes mocking and triumphant, seeing me shackled and in her power. She spat viciously in my face, which insult I accepted, unmoving. Then, with her right hand, she slapped me savagely with all the force and fury of her body. My cheek felt as though it had been branded.
"Are you Island? asked the officer, once again, patiently.