"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

Hendrickson showed his cards.
Goldie Morran swore in a manner Marcus still found shocking. More money
traveled to the librarian's side of the table.
"Your drinks," Marcus said quietly, placing them carefully to one side of
cards, money, and outthrust elbows.
Out in the main room, a familiar voice sang out, "Hey, Marcus! Where are
you?"
Skeeter Jackson was back in town. He hid a pleased grin.
Marcus quietly collected empty glasses from the poker table, noted the lack
of a tip from Goldie and the modest tip from the librarian, then hurried out
and found his friend beaming at the entire roomful of patrons.
"Drinks," he announced elaborately, "are on the house. A round for everyone
on me!"
Marcus gaped. "Skeeter? That is ... that will be very expensive!" His
friend never had that kind of money. And the Down Time was crowded tonight.
"Yep! I scored big for a change. Really big!" His grin all but lit up the
dark room. Then he produced a wallet full of money. "For the drinks!"
"You won the bets?"
Skeeter laughed. "Did I ever! Serve 'em up, Marcus." He winked and handed
Marcus a heavy pouch, whispering, "Thanks. That's for your help." Then he
sauntered over to a table, where he found himself the center of much
attention, most of it from tourists. The pouch Skeeter had given him was very
heavy. Marcus began to tremble. When he opened the drawstrings, the number-and
color-of the coins inside made his head swim. There must be ... He couldn't
see properly to count the money. But if it wasn't enough to pay off his debt,
it was close. Very, very close. His vision wavered.
Skeeter had remembered.
Marcus knew that in this world of uptimers and 'eighty-sixers, grown men
did not weep, as Roman men did with such free abandon. So he blinked
desperately, but his throat was so thick he couldn't have spoken to save his
own life. Skeeter had remembered. And actually followed through on the
promise. I won't forget, Marcus made a silent vow. I won't forget this, my
true friend.
He stuffed the money into a front jeans pocket, deep enough to keep it safe
from pick pockets, then blinked fiercely again. He wished desperately he could
leave the Down Time and share his news with Ianira now, but he had several
hours left on his shift and she would be in the middle of a session with an
uptime graduate student, one of many who consulted-and paid-her as a singular,
primary source. She had told him once that some uptime schools did not allow
students to use such recordings or notes, considering them faulty, if not
downright fraudulent, sources. Anger had sparked like flint against pyrite in
her eyes, that anyone would dare to question her honesty, her integrity.
But a lot of other schools did accept such research as valid. Marcus
discovered a deep, abiding joy that Ianira would no longer have to reduce
herself to selling off little pieces of her life just to save money for
Marcus' debt. He could tell her later of his good fortune, of their good
friend and ally. Already he anticipated the joy in her dark eyes.
Perhaps I can even support another child. A son, if the gods smile on us.
Thus preoccupied with dreams, Marcus started taking the drink orders Skeeter's
generosity had prompted. Skeeter plopped down enough cash to buy the drinks