Haxly: переводы

→There was a knock on my door. I jumped from guilt but stayed quiet.

→“Stop having conniptions, Mary,” I told myself. “It’s not as if you killed him or anything. He’ll be healed in two seconds. Won’t even get scars. So why are you acting like a two-year-old?” A drop rolled down my face. I was shaken, not because I had hurt Baro, but because for a split second as I had been attacking him like a crazed maniac, I had almost enjoyed it, reveling in the feeling of fist squarely hitting face.

→I looked around the crowd, feeling lost, looking for something I couldn’t identify. The crowd was standing, clapping politely as if I had just performed a piano concerto, not beaten a man’s face in. I stumbled stupidly toward the archway that led outside, tripped through it, and ran like wildfire to my room. Once I got there I used the cleaning lacing on myself, but I still felt dirty. I dipped my hands into the water basin and scrubbed until my already raw knuckles bled. At that point I was shaking too much to continue.

→I recoiled from him as if hit. His face was bloody, bruises already blossoming on the sections of his skin not shielded by his leather outfit. I looked at my own hands to see them covered in red. Bile rose up my throat, and I came perilously close to regurgitating chunks of food all over the arena. A temporary fighting frenzy had taken over. That had never happened to me before. My fear from the fight turned inward; I was afraid of myself.

→“Stop.” Baro shielded his face with his arms. “It is over. For pity’s sake, stop.”

→Rage built off the fear inside me. I focused on Baro as if he was the only thing that existed. My sensei had often remarked that it took getting hurt before I woke up enough to start fighting well. Baro had just woken me up. I attacked, striking with quick combinations of punches and kicks. He tried to block, but I hit more often than he blocked. I hardly heard the low bellow of the horn.

→Baro got up, his face turnip red. If he’d been mad before, he was positively raging now. He didn’t seem to know how to do anything but punch. I blocked him with determined concentration. Sweat on my brow trickled into my eyes, making me blink constantly. One blink lasted too long, and he hit my jaw hard enough to blacken the world for an instant. I struck out blindly and was blocked, but it gave me enough time to be able to see again.

→I didn’t like that I was actually hurting Baro. A longing for my dojo swept through me. With my thoughts distracting me, I almost missed blocking Baro’s next punch to my face. Because of that, his other fist struck my stomach, and I staggered back. Baro gave me no time to recuperate but came flying at me as he had at first. Even winded, I managed to step to the side and sweep his feet from him using his own momentum. But I was panting, and I felt a sharp jab of fear. I wished the fight would just end.

→He got up quickly, growling, transformed from the bored courtier to an enraged hornet. I had to give him credit, though. He was smart enough not to charge me again. I waited on the balls of my feet for his next move, every nerve tense, ready to spring. Instead of trying to run me over, Baro tried to slide in close enough to punch me in the face. I front-kicked him, then continued my momentum, sweeping down his arms and punching his face instead. I felt the numbing tingle of fist hitting flesh as I again sidled away from his recovery blow.

→As Baro and I talked, the crowd chatted excitedly. I scanned the group quickly for Breeohan but couldn’t see him anywhere. At some cue I couldn’t see, a hush fell. I didn’t get a chance to think of a reply to Baro’s threat. A deep horn sounded, and Baro attacked. I almost didn’t sidestep his attack quickly enough. I wrenched my body to the right of his charge, out of leg range. He bulldozed forward again, and I could tell immediately that he was not used to fighting without a weapon. His lunge was off-balance. This time as I sidestepped his punch, I caught and pulled his arm as I swept his leg from under him. The momentum of his punch sent him tumbling forward onto his face.

→“I certainly could not be blamed if something were to happen accidentally.”

→“No one is allowed to kill on the jova courts,” I said, hoping he didn’t note my slight quaver.

→“I find your attire quite appropriate. A beggar’s outfit will certainly crown the moment when you beg me to spare your life.”

→I wasn’t sure how we would get started, so I kept a wary eye on him, noting the spectators settling into seats. How had word spread so quickly? Perhaps Baro had declared his intention to challenge me right after the court assembly.

→“It makes no difference to me. I will beat you either way.” He did his best to look exceedingly bored.

→“Are you afraid of not having one?” I countered.

→Baro looked startled, and it was nice to know I could upset his mask of boredom just a little. “Are you afraid of a sharp edge?” he sneered.

→A disbelieving grunt burst out of my mouth. He was trying too hard to look uninterested. “None. I choose hand-to-hand combat,” I said.

→Doln Baro walked from the arched entryway to the open sky of the round court and faced me. He wore thick, nut brown leather that shone in the sunlight. I wondered if the material would hamper his movements enough to help me get away with certain moves. Seeming to be on the verge of a yawn, he asked, “What weapon do you choose?”

→My stomach lurched again, but I forced myself to focus on possible fighting strategies. I walked into a structure that reminded me of a small Roman Colosseum where gladiators had fought and people had faced off against hungry lions. It was an uncomfortable likeness. There were weapons of all kinds on the wooden racks that lined the outer wall. Most looked similar to what I’d seen in barbarian movies, but there was something about seeing a staff with razor-sharp jagged metal jutting out of both ends that squeezed my heart into terrified thumping in a way the movie weapons never had. I was directed to the middle of the circular court. Six feet up from the wall of weapons were benches filled with nobility wearing bright colors and hats with enormous brims. I wondered for the sixteenth time why I couldn’t have kept my big mouth shut.