"Alan Dean Foster - Drowning World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

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Jemunu-jah didnтАЩt want to have to take the time to rescue the human. If it was foolish enough to go off
into the Viisiiviisii all by itself, then it deserved whatever happened to it. Kenkeru-jah had argued that it
was theirmula to try to save the visitor, even if it was not spawned of the Sakuntala. As he was ranking
chief of the local Nuy clan, his opinion was listened to and respected.

Jemunu-jah suspected that the much-admired High Chief Naneci-tok would also have argued
vociferously against the decision to send him, but she was still in transit from an important meeting of
fellow Hatas and was not present to countermand the directive. As for the war chief Aniolo-jat, he did
not seem to care one way or the other where Jemunu-jah was sent. Not that the cunning Hata-yuiqueru
felt anything for the missing human, either. All the war chief wanted, as usual, was to conserve clan
energies for killing Deyzara.

Perhaps it was Jemunu-jahтАЩs cheerless expression that caused the two Deyzara passing him on the
walkway to edge as far away as they could without tumbling right over the flexible railing. The
speaking/breathing trunk that protruded from the top of their ovoidal hairless skulls recoiled back against
the edges of their flat-brimmed rain hats, and the secondary eating trunks that hung from the underside, or
chin region, of their heads twitched nervously. Their large, protuberant, close-set eyes nervously tracked
him from behind their visors. Another time, Jemunu-jah might have found their excessive caution amusing.
Not today.

He supposed Kenkeru-jah was right. Chiefs usually were. But for the life of him, he could not
understand how the death of a missing human, and a self-demonstrably reckless one at that, could affect
the clanтАЩsmula . But the chief had made a decision. As a result, he now found himself directed to present
himself to the female in charge of the human community on Fluva. Since Lauren MatthiasтАЩs status was
equivalent to that of a senior Hata, or High Chief of the Sakuntala, Jemunu-jah would be obliged to put
his own feelings aside while showing her proper respect. He smoothed his long stride. Actually, he ought
to be proud. He had been selected as a representative of his people, the best that Taulau Town had to
offer. But if given a choice, he would gladly have declined the honor.

At slightly under two meters tall and a wiry eighty kilos, he was of average height and weight for a
mature male Sakuntala. Though smaller than those of a Deyzara, his eyes provided vision that was
substantially more acute. From the sides of his head the base of his flexible pointed ears extended out
sideways for several centimeters before curving sharply upward to end in tufted points. The outer
timpanic membrane that kept rain from entering his right ear was in the process of renewing itself, slowly
being replaced by a new one growing in behind it. As a result, the hearing on his right side was at present
slightly diminished. It would stay that way for another day or two, he knew, until the old membrane had
completely disintegrated and the new one had asserted itself.

His short, soft fur was light gray with splotches of black and umber. The pattern identified an individual
Sakuntala as sharply and distinctly as any of the artificial identity devices the humans carried around with
them. In that respect he felt sorry for the humans. Despite some slight differences in skin color, it was