"De Camp, L Sprague - RK 2 - The Clocks Of Iraz UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Camp L Sprague)

Author's Note

While the reader may, naturally, pronounce the names in this tale as he pleases, for Penembic names I had the following scheme in mind: ue and oe as in German; ui (obscured) as in "biscuit"; other vowels more or less as in Spanish and consonants as in English. Hence Ayuir rhymes with "fire"; Chaluish, with "demolish"; Chui-vir, with "severe." The h in Sahmet, Fahramak is sounded: "sah-h'm-met," etc. The scheme is based upon the phonetics of Turkish.

THE CHRLET MflMMOTH

T WAS THE HOUR OF THE COAT, ON THE THIRTEENTH OF

the Month of the Unicorn, in the republic of Ir, one of the twelve city-states of Novaria.

In the tavern called the Scarlet Mammoth, in the city of Orynx, a slim, well-dressed young man toyed absently with a glass of wine and watched the door. Although this man wore Novanan garb, there was about him a suggestion of the exotic. His skin was darker than that of most Novarians, although the latter were a mainly brunet folk. Furthermore, his ornaments were gaudier than those of the Land of the Twelve Cities.

Across the common room sat an older man: a chunky fellow of medium height, with a plain, nondescript face, clad in garments of sober black. If the first man looked foppish, the second looked ostentatiously austere.

While the tall youth watched the door, the chunky man, now and then sipping from a leathern drinking jack of ale, watched the tall youth. Sweat beaded the foreheads of both men, for the weather was unseasonably hot.

The door flew open. In stamped six noisy, rough-looking men, covered with sweat and dust and cursing the heat. They seized the largest table in the common room and hammered on it. The tallest man, a burly, ruddy fellow with deep-set dark eyes under heavy black brows and a close-cut black beard, shouted:

"Ho, Theudus! Can't a gang of honest workmen get a drink, when their throats are caked with dust thick enough to raise a crop in?"

1

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

"Coming, coming, Master Nikko, if you'll stop that hellish racket," grumbled the taverner, appearing with his fists full of jacks of ale, a thick finger hooked around each handle. As he set the vessels down, he asked: "Be this your last day, working out of Orynx?"

"That's right," said the big man, across whose face a sword-cut had left a scar and put a kink in his nose. "We move to Evrodium on the morrow. Our orders are to make the aqueduct swing south, following the high ground, before reaching Ir City."

"I should think you'd cut directly across to Ir," said Theudus, "to shorten the total length."

"We would, but the Syndicate would have to pay for an arcade several leagues long, and you know how they are with money; they give it out as a glacier gives out heat. When the thing is built, they'll doubtless complain that the grade is too low and the channel ciogs up. 1 warned 'em, but they wouldn't listen. No matter what route we pick, we poor surveyors get blamed."

"They've been talking about this project for years," said the taverner.

"Aye. They should have built it years agone, but I suppose they hoped that Zevatas would send enough rain to fill the old aqueducts. They did nought till water got so scarce that they had to ration baths. You ought to smell the air in that underground city! They could cut it up and sell it for fertilizer. Well, what's tor dinner?"

As the men gave their orders, the slim young man approached the surveyors' table. Standing behind the big man, he rapped the latter on the shoulder with a peremptory forefinger. As the chief surveyor looked up, the younger man, speaking Novarian with an accent, said:

"You, there! Are you not |onan of Ardamai?"

The big man's eyes narrowed, but his face remained blank and his voice level. "Never heard of him. I'm Nikko of Kortoli, as my mates here will attest."

"But that is Ч well, come over to my table, where we can talk."

"Certes, my unknown friend," said the surveyor in

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ