"Aldridge, Ray - The Spine DiversV1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldridge Ray)

The uncle seemed a paler, older version of Teeg but he was as obsequious as any other innkeeper. "Yes, I can suit you very well," he said. "A room in the south wing the second floor, with a fine view of the Sea and a comfortable bed. You'll like it, I promise, or my name's not Tsaldo Loomp."

I touched his outstretched hand in greeting. "And your name is . . .?"

He looked mystified for a moment, and then giggled. "Tsaldo Loomp. At your service. And your name, sir?"

"Michael Mastine."

"We are honored, Citizen Mastine," he said, with only a trace of irony.

Teeg and one of his henchmen carried my baggage up to the room. I trailed after, trying for a strong impression of the house, where perhaps interesting events would occur. The walls were white plaster, stained with age. At intervals hung little dark portraits of dead Spiners, and also a few trophies, the so-called "rainbow rippers" that the divers hunt. These were large, slim-bodied fish striped with once-glorious color, their long razor-edged fins stiffened forever in poses of contrived fury. Their eyes were huge, adapted to the darkness of deep water -- the reason why they only entered the tidal caverns at night. They were all at least two meters long, some much larger, and I could see that such a creature might be a formidable quarry for a solitary diver.

The house was quiet, a little musty, and cool . . . it gave an impression of interesting secrets, of an unseen inner life. I began to think that perhaps I had been fortunate.

Following Teeg down the hall toward my room, I saw the woman come toward us. The bearers pressed close to the wall, their eyes cast down in sudden deference. She glanced directly at me for a moment, as she brushed past, and I felt a touch of the same distant awe that the sea monster had aroused in me. She was dark, and brilliant with unconventional beauty . . . she was more than a little frightening. She wore the same beaded breechcloth that Teeg wore, her naked torso was smoothly muscled and where she was unscarred, her skin had a dense lustrous polish. One breast was perfect, the other's shape was marred slightly by an indented slash just above the magenta nipple. Her face was unmarked except for a pink seam along her jaw. Her mouth was thin and tense, her eyes huge and of a pale shocking gray. Her black hair was hacked short, without style.

I had to resist the urge to turn and look after her. I was suddenly glad that the offworlders' inn was full.

My room was adequate, if primitive: an iron bed, a wardrobe, a washstand, a high-backed chair, a rickety balcony overlooking one of the village's wider alleys and as promised, a fine view of the Sea.

I was sure Tees was a man only after he was gone. He piled my luggage in the center of the room, then turned to go. I felt a certain distress at his unceremonious attitude; had we not shared the rigors of the trail for five days? I took out a clip of valuta coupons, attempted to give him a small gratuity. He took the coupons and gave me a long chilly look. Then he spat juicily on them, dropped them with a flourish, and went away, knee chains flickering brightly.

I left my room as the sun settled to the Azure Ocean, looking for dinner and a sense of the place. Tsaldo Loomp wheeled one of his ancients in as I went out; the innkeeper nodded, the ancient stared intently at nothing.

The alleys were filling with shadow and occasional strollers, mostly off world folk from the tourist flyer. These were a varied lot, from a half-dozen worlds, mostly couples and triads, apparently out for a romantic weekend in exotic surroundings. Their loud voices rubbed uncomfortably at my nerves. I found myself unreasonably irritated. Tourists, I thought peevishly, forgetting that I was only a tourist myself. I suppose this bit of self-deception is an essential tool of the serious traveler.

I was hungry, after nearly five days of Teeg's spartan cuisine -- mostly freeze-dried stews and hard biscuits, edible but bland. I paused my recorders and cued my guidebook--by the obscure Hiepter Gant Jr., published almost a hundred years ago, but the only one available. I scanned the restaurant entries, which were few, and settled on a place Gant described thusly: "reeking with history and garlic, the Ripper Room has been under the same ownership for centuries, a rarity in a place where lives are generally short and full of distraction."

A map appeared on my wrist and I memorized it before reactivating my recorders.

The directions led me into the congested heart of the village, where the white masonry houses crowded together and the alleys were so narrow and dark that streetlights burned already. I passed several entrances to the caverns, black mouths exhaling a cold bitter breath. Rusty bars blocked the entrances and signs warned: TOURISTS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN, Unless Accompanied by a Certified Guide.

Somewhat to my surprise I found the Ripper Room still in business, and pushed through the door into a cheerful scene. A large low-ceilinged room held several dozen tables, On the whitewashed walls were enough lamps to make the too his bright, and the floor was of clean polished flagstone, Though the hour was early for dinner, customers occupied most of the tables. Most were outsiders, but there were a fair number of Spiners present -- in fact I thought to recognize Teeg and his henchmen, freshly bathed and wearing pangalac unisuits, but when next I looked he was gone. Waiters trotted back and forth bearing trays of steaming food. I sniffed, detecting the waft of garlic and other savories, but if the odor of history was present it was too subtle for me. No stuffed fish decorated the walls, a point in the establishment's favor.

A small old man came up to me, hairy eyebrows raised. "Will you dine with us, Citizen?" His features were sharp, his black eyes glittering with energetic curiosity. His hair was a glossy white pelt, which gave him an animal quality.

"I hope to," I said.

"Come with me."

He led me to a table in the comer, well away from the kitchen door. "Is this satisfactory, Citizen?"

"Fine."

"The table has a touch screen, a menu from which you may choose. Today's special is a generous portion of fettuccine dressed with clams and sweet peppers, in a white sauce with cheese. I recommend it highly."

"Thank you," I said.

He bowed quite gracefully "I am Odorini, the proprietor. Call me, should you have any questions or difficulties." He glanced at my forearm dataslate, and then at the little remote camera, which had followed me inside and now hovered above us. These accessories are commonly used by tourists; in fact several other remotes hung beneath the Ripper's Room ceiling, storing up memories for their owners. But it was apparent to me that Odorini somehow recognized the quality of my devices, and understood that I was more than a casual traveler. "I leave you to enjoy your meal, then," he said, and went back to his desk beside the entrance.