"Gardner Dozois - Strangers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dozois Gardner)

Strangers
By Gardner Dozois

For Tom and Sara Purdom, who won't read this one either



Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank the following people for their help,
support, criticism, and inspiration:
Robert Silverberg, Jack Dann, Susan Casper, Donald G. Keller, Jack C.
Haldeman II, Virginia Kidd, Joanna Russ, Kirby McCauley, Pamela
Sargent, George Zebrowski, Carol Emshwiller, Eileen Gunn, Pat Cadigan,
Karen Faraguna, Trina King, John Douglas, Ginjer Buchanan, Gene Di
Modica, Victoria Schochet, George R.R. Martin, Judith Weiss, Michael
Swanwick, Robin Rosenthal, the members of the Mil-ford Science Fiction
Writers' Conference 1973, the members of the Guilford Writers' Workshop
1973, and very special thanks to my editor, David G. Hartwell, and to Dr.
Pat Hartwell.



1

Joseph Farber met Liraun J ├й Genawen for the first time during the
ceremony of the Al ├а ntene, the Mode of the Winter Solstice, the
Opening-of-the-Gates-of-D├╗n, which was observed annually in the ancient
city of Aei, on the North Shore of Shasine, on the world of Lisle. "Lisle"
was the Terran name, of course, after Senator Lisle Harris, the first
human to visit the planet, and had come into common usage among the
expatriate Terran population of Aei because the Earthmen professed great
difficulty in pronouncing the native Weinunnach,'' Fertile Home."
Farber had been on WeinunnachтАФor "Lisle"тАФfor a little more than a
week, and had only been outside the EnclaveтАФthe exclusive Terran
district, or ghetto, however you wanted to look at itтАФon rare occasions.
Tonight boredom and despondency had combined to finally shake him
loose; he'd gone along with a group of expatriates who were walking down
to the Al├аntene, partially because Brody had assured him that "the Cian
always put on a good show," and partially because he was afraid of getting
hopelessly lost without guides. Now, as he walked the broad ceramic
streets of Aei New City, he was morose and melancholy in spite of the
frenetic over-loud chatter of the other TerransтАФor perhaps because of
itтАФand already beginning to wish that he'd stayed at the Enclave.
It was a wet, chilly night, just this side of actual rain. Gray mists, up
from the river, wound slowly through the high-walled streets, like sluggish
snakes, or drifted in glistening, billowing curtains across the wide
porcelain squares. The wet air carried the smell of spices, pollen, incense,
musk. Sharp, sour, sweet, heavy, and rankтАФthe odors slid across the moist
night like oil over water, most unidentifiable, all evocative. Occasionally
the wind would rise, scooping the mists and cloud-scuts aside like an