"Eric Flint - The Philosophical Strangler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

always had an eye out for a lucrative job. "Folly ever comes cloaked in opportunity," as the wise man
says.
Three hours later we were in the back room of the Lucky Lady. The tavern was in the Flankn, in
that section where the upper crust went slumming. Greyboar didn't like the place, claimed it was too
snooty for his taste. I wasn't too fond of it myself, actually. Much rather have been swilling my suds at
The Trough, surrounded by proper lowlifes. But there was no place like the Lucky Lady for a quiet
business transaction. Especially since almost all our clients were your hoity-toity types, who'd die of
shock in The Trough.
Mind you, my discretion was all in vain. The man was there, all right, accompanied by a fat, frog-
faced lad barely old enough to shave. And both of them were clad in the same manner, except that the
youth's costume was even more extravagant. Customers. As the wise man says: "Wherefore profit it a
man to be learned, if he remains stupid in his mind?"
"You could have worn something less conspicuous," I grumbled, after we took our seats across the
table from them.
The stripling took offense. "I am the Prince of the Sundjhab! The Prince of the Sundjhab does not
scurry about in barbarian rags!" Typical. Sixteen years old, at the most, and he was already speaking in
ukases.
Greyboar's interest was aroused. "The Sundjhab? It's said the Sundjhab is a land of ancient learning
and lore. Sages and mystics by the gross, you stumble over 'em just walking down the street."
"Let's to business!" I said, rather forcefully. Once let Greyboar get started on this track, we'd never
get anything accomplished.
The Prince's companion nodded his head. "You may call me Rashkuta. My master's name"тАФa nod
to the PrinceтАФ"is of no import. His involvement in this affair must remain completely hidden." He
cleared his throat. "Our business is simple. My master's birthright is barred by another, his uncle, whom
we wish removed that my master may inherit his kingdom."
"What about his uncle's children?" demanded Greyboar. "D'you want I should burke the whole
brood?" Sarcasm, thisтАФGreyboar drew the line at throttling sprouts, save the occasional bratling.
The gibe went unnoticed. "It will not be necessary. In the Sundjhab, the line of descent passes from
uncle to nephew. There are no others between my master and his due."
"Odd sort of system," mused Greyboar. "In Grotum, a man's own children are his heirs."
"Yours is a preposterous method!" decreed the Prince. "That a king's children be his own is
speculation, pure solipsism. But that a king's sister's children be of his own royal blood is certain."
"A point," allowed Greyboar. The royal nose lifted even higher.
"Let's keep it to business," I interjected. "There is a problem with your proposal. The Sundjhab is
known to us here in New Sfinctr, but mostly as a land of legend and fable. Three obstacles are thus
presented. First, it is far away. Second, should we arrive there, we are unfamiliar with the terrain.
Finally, how will we make sure to collect our fee once the job is done?"
"Your concerns are moot," replied Rashkuta. "My master's uncle is touring the continent of
Grotum. For the next week, he will be residing in New Sfinctr. The work can be done here. Indeed, it
must be done here. Fearsome as are the guardians who accompany him on his travels, they are nothing
compared to what surrounds him in his palace in the Sundjhab."
His words jogged my memory. I had heard vague talk in the marketplace about some foreign
mucky-muck on a visit. Couldn't for the life of me understand why. What I mean is, if I'd been the King
of the Sundjhab, I'd never have left the harem except to stagger to the treasure room. And I'd certainly
not have come to New Sfinctr! The place is a pesthole. Probably some scheming and plotting going on.
A dirty business, politics. Of course, it was great for the trade.
But a chokester's agent can't afford to let his mind wander. "Who are the King's guardians?"
"They consist of the following," replied Rashkuta. "First, the King has his elite soldiery, a body of
twelve men, the cream of the Sundjhabi armyтАФ"
"Not to be compared to the buffoons in Sfinctrian uniform," sneered the Prince.