"Blish, James - A Hero's Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blish James)

'Back when she was sure she was married to a window-washer.'

'I don't know what you've got under your skirt, but it's wearing white socks.'

'And then she made a noise like a spindizzy going sour.'

And others:

'Pepe Satan, pepe Satan aleppe,'

'Why, so might any man.'

'EVACUATE MARS!'

'And then she sez to me, she sez -'

'… if he would abandon his mind to it.'

'With all of love.'

And… but at that point the plug began to unscrew and from the spargers above him which formerly had kept the dampness running, a heavy gas began to curl. They had tired of waiting for him to weary of himself, and the second phase of his questioning was about to begin.



They questioned him, dressed in a hospital gown so worn that it was more starch than fabric, in the Traitor-in-Chief's private office to begin with - a deceptively bluff, hearty, leather-and-piperacks sort of room, which might have been reassuring to a novice. There were only two of them: Valkol in his usual abah, and the 'slave', now dressed as a Charioteer of the high blood. It was a curious choice of costume, since Charioteers were supposed to be free, leaving it uncertain which was truly master and which slave; Simon did not think it could have been Valkol's idea.

Noticing the direction of his glance, Valkol said, 'I asked this gentleman to join me to assure you, should you be in any doubt, that this interview is serious. I presume you know who he is.'

'I don't know who "he" is,' Simon said, with the faintest of emphasis. 'But it must be representing the Green Exarch, since it's a vombis.'

.The Traitor-in-Chief's lips whitened slightly. Aha, then he hadn't known that! 'Prove it,' he said.

'My dear Valkol,' the creature interposed. 'Pray don't let him distract us over trifles. Such a thing could not be proved without the most elaborate of laboratory tests, as we all know. And the accusation shows what we wish to know, i.e., that he is aware of who I am - otherwise why try to make such an inflammatory charge?'

'Your master's voice,' Simon said. 'Let us by all means proceed - this gown is chilly.'

'This gentleman,' Valkol said, exactly as if he had not heard any of the four proceeding speeches, 'is Chag Sharanee of the Exarchy. Not from the embassy, but directly from the court -he is His Majesty's deputy Fomentor.'

'Appropriate,' Simon murmured.

'We know you now style yourself Simon de Kuyl, but what is more to the point, that you proclaim yourself the Traitor-in-Chief of High Earth. Documents now in my possession persuade me that that if you are not in fact that officer, you are so close to being he as makes no difference. Possibly the man you replaced, the putative amateur with the absurd belt of poison-shells, was actually he. In any event you are the man we want.'

'Flattering of you.'

'Not at all,' said Valkol the Polite. 'We simply want the remainder of those documents, for which we paid. Where are they?'

'I sold them to the Rood-Prince.'

'He had them not, nor could he be persuaded to remember any such transaction.'