Аннотация
Lisa Smedman
Venom’s Taste
PROLOGUE
23 Kythorn, Darkmorning
So this is to be my coffin, Arvin thought.
Had he been capable of it, he would have groaned in despair.
He was sprawled on his back inside a leaky rowboat, too weak to lift himself out of the cold, filthy water in which he lay. Even blinking was beyond him. With eyes too dry for tears, he stared at the bricks that drifted past a short distance above him-the arched ceiling of the sewage tunnel. Water sloshed against him as the boat nudged against a wall with a dull thud. Then the lazy current scuffed the boat away from the wall again and dragged it relentlessly onward.
It was not so much the knowledge that he was dying that filled Arvin with impotent grief-even though twenty-six was far too young for any life to end-it was the thought that his soul would begin its journey to the gods fouled with this intolerable stink. The sewage tunnel was slimed not just with centuri...
Отзывы