"Debra Doyle & James MacDonald - Mageworlds 01 - The Price of the Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Debra)

Prologue

Night had come to Waycross on Innish-Kyl. Night, but not darkness or quiet. Bursts of loud talk
and raucous music spilled out through open doorways, and the low thrumming of heavy machinery never
stopped. Beka Rosselin-Metadi-tall and thin, with pale yellow hair tied back from a face too sharply
planed for prettiness-strode through the crowded spaceport with a starpilotтАЩs fine disregard for the
dirtside locals. The locals, in turn, took note of her purposeful air, and of her heavy war-surplus blaster in
its worn leather holster, and let her pass.

In fact, Beka had no goal besides a cool drink and a few hours away from the ship. Claw Hard
had been in hyperspace for two months on this latest run, plenty of time for Beka to grow tired of both
the freighter and her crew. This stop at Waycross was BekaтАЩs first chance to get off-ship since Cashel;
the layover at Raffa, the only other port on this run, had been too brief to allow the crew members any
liberty.

OsaтАЩs probably afraid heтАЩll lose the whole lot of us if he lets us out on the town, she
decided as she stepped through the door of the Blue Sun Cantina. If her own duties as copilot/navigator
hadnтАЩt ended when Claw Hard settled into the docking bay, she wouldnтАЩt be here either-sheтАЩd be
off-loading and on-loading cargo with the rest of the freighterтАЩs crew. But except for Osa himself she had
the only deep-space pilotтАЩs license on board, and Claw HardтАЩs captain was getting too fat and lazy to
do his own ship handling.

Beka smiled thinly to herself. If Osa wants to keep his copilot, she thought, he can damn well
let me off the ship for a couple of hours.

The door slid shut behind her, and she made her way through the crowd to the bar. The regulars
at the Blue Sun werenтАЩt exactly the sort of people Beka had grown up with. Innish-Kyl was a frontier
planet near the Mageworlds border zone, and Waycross had started out as a privateersтАЩ port during the
worst years of the late war. Most of the cantinaтАЩs patrons probably hadnтАЩt seen a respectable woman
more than once or twice in their lives, and wouldnтАЩt know what to say to one if she showed up.

Luckily, BekaтАЩs much-mended coverall and worn leather boots-and the blaster-were enough to
spare her the burden of respectability in this crowd. She found a place at the bar and pulled a ten-credit
chit out of her pocket.

тАЬBeer,тАЭ she said in Galcenian. тАЬWhatever you have on tap.тАЭ

The bartender looked at her without speaking.

Beka sighed. I wonder if itтАЩs my accent. She didnтАЩt suppose the Blue Sun got many customers
who spoke the universal tongue of the spacelanes as it sounded on the Mother of Worlds-but even seven
years away from Galcen hadnтАЩt been enough to wipe all traces of home from BekaтАЩs voice.

It never fails, she thought with resignation. A few hours without sleep, and I start talking like
IтАЩm just out of finishing school. Oh, well. Try again.

тАЬBeer,тАЭ she said, enunciating clearly. тАЬTap.тАЭ

The bartender blinked. тАЬYes, Domina.тАЭ
 Oh, damn. It wasnтАЩt the accent.