"Blish, James - Anywhen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blish James)

The hand holding the looped beads made a small, unconscious gesture of
revulsion.
"I think they are the handicapped, not I-most planets hang their moral
imbeciles, sooner or later. But what about treason? You didn't answer that
question."
"My throat was dry ... thank you. Treason, well-it's an art; hence, again,
a domain of taste or preference. Style is everything; that's why my
half-brother is so inept. If tastes changed he might prosper, as I might
had I been born with blue hair."
"You could dye it."
"What, like the Respectables?" She laughed, briefly but unaffectedly. "I am
what I am; disguises don't become me. 24
 A Style in Treason
Skills, yes-those are another matter. I'll show you, when you like. But no
masks."
Skills can betray you too, Simon thought, remembering that moment at the
Traitors' Guild when his proud sash of poison shells, offered in service,
had lost him in an instant every inch of altitude over the local
professionals that he had hoped to trade on. But he only said again, "Why
not?" It would be as good a way as any to while away the time; and once his
immunity had expired, he could never again trust a playwoman on Boadacea.
She proved, indeed, very skilful, and the time passed ... but the irregular
pseudo-days-the clock in the tavern was on a different time than the one in
his room, and neither even faintly agreed with his High Earth-based
chronometer and metabolism-betrayed him. He awoke one morning/ noon/night
to find the girl turning slowly black beside him, in the last embrace of a
fungal toxin he would have reserved for the Emperor of Canes Venatici, or
the worst criminal in human history.
His immunity period was up, and war had been declared. He had been notified
that if he still wanted to sell High Earth, he would first have to show his
skill at staying alive against the whole cold malice of all the Traitors of
Boadacea.

CHAPTER FOUR

"How the Exarchy or the prehuman interstellar empires
were held together is unknown, but in human history, at
least, the bureaucratic problems of managing large stellar
holdings from a single centre of government have proven to
be insoluble. Neither the ultraphone nor the Imaginary
Drive permitted the extension of human hegemony over a
radius of more than ten light-years, a fact the colonies out
side this sphere were not slow to appreciate and put to use.
Luckily, a roughly uniform interstellar economy was main
tained by tacit agreement after the political separations,
25
 A Style in Treason

since it was not widely recognized then-or now-that this much older
invention can enforce a more thorough rule than can any personal or party