"Piers Anthony - Bio of a Space Tyrant 02 - Mercenary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"Right." And the man moved on to his assigned bunk.

I realized that Joe was an excellent friend to have while I was among strangers. He might have a soft heart for a person in trouble, but that was only one facet of his character. He had not been fooling with that dagger! I owed him another favor.

I must have slept, because suddenly the ship was moving, accelerating from its dock. My head still hurt; the vertigo of initial motion didn't help. I lay on my back and listened.

They sang songs. Each man really did have his song, and he sang it with assurance, though few people had good voices. That didn't seem to matter; enthusiasm was what counted, and the assertion of possession. No one interrupted when a man started his song; then, after a few bars, they joined in, following his lead. The songs were unfamiliar to me, but I knew I would pick them up readily enough. I was, perforce, now a member of this culture; I would adapt.

Then, abruptly, it was my turn. "This is Hope's maiden voyage," Joe said. "We must select his song." He turned to me. "First we have to know about you. How did you come to leave Callisto?"

"That's a long story," I said. "You probably wouldn't be interested in-"

"We love long stories," Joe said. "They fill our tired evenings when the songs give out. But right now we're only doing your song, not your story. Can you summarize your life in one hundred words?"

"I can try," I said, realizing that this was not a joke. Now that I was active, my headache was fading. "My family had trouble with a scion, and we had to flee the planet in a bootleg bubble powered mostly by a gravity shield. Pirates came and-" Suddenly the horrible memories overwhelmed me, I choked up and could not continue. Only four months ago my family had been united and reasonably happy. Now . . .

"I think I understand," Joe said. "They killed your family?"

I nodded.

"And you alone survive?"

"My-my sisters-" I said.

"Survive? Raped and taken as concubines for private ships?"

"One. The other, younger, she's called Spirit, and she's twelve. Got a ... a position on a ship, concealed as a boy-"

"And you don't know where she is now," Joe finished. He looked around at the bunks. "I think we have enough of the picture. You Hispanic refugees come through a hardball game."

There was a general murmur of agreement. "A kid sister hiding among pirates," Rivers said. "He's got reason to worry."

"But his name is Hope," Gallows said. He was the foreman, but he was evidently also part of this group.

"Hope is a worried man," Rivers said, looking around.

Slowly the others nodded.

I looked up, perplexed. "What?"

"Oh, that's right," Joe said, as if surprised. "You don't know our songs. We'll have to teach you. Anybody want to do this one?"

"I'll do it," Rivers said. He turned to me. "With your permission, Hope, I will sing your song."

"Sure," I said doubtfully.

"This time only, I lead Hope's song," Rivers said formally. "The Worried Man Blues." And then he sang, in his fine deep voice:

It takes a worried man to sing a worried song It takes a worried man to sing a worried song It takes a worried man to sing a worried song I'm worried now, but I won't be worried long.