Cold obsidian
Шрифт:
“Maskak!” Kangassk shouted, instinctively reaching for the bow he no longer had. “Damn! Someone shoot this thing!”
Astrakh had his crossbow ready and was in a position to shoot the non-human scout but, taken aback, he just stood there, gaping. Kangassk grabbed his weapon and aimed but he was too late.
“I lost him… Now he’ll bring friends,” he said, angry and bitter.
“No worries,” Vlada reassured him and cast a glance at Sereg. The Grey Inquisitor nodded and removed a fat purse from his belt. Vlada continued, “We’ll keep walking. Most likely, they will attack us in where the road goes around the hill.”
“See?” she addressed the traders now. “What did I tell you? Remember joining a caravan next time and be generous when it comes to hiring guards!” and then turned to Sereg again, “Do you know that your maskaks are now wreaking havoc in the South as well?”
“No,” he grunted, untying the purse. The clever knot opened easily when he tugged at the proper string.
“Okay, kids,” Vlada glanced around the group of the frightened mortals, “you too, Kan, listen up! When it gets hot, you are to stand behind us. You can shoot if you want, but no getting into close combat and no heroics. Understood?”
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