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

often very difficult to tell one from another.

His cheek sacs bulged, one with the coiled, whiplike tongue that was almost as long as his body, the
other with a gobbet of khopo sap he alternately chewed and sucked. TodayтАЩs helping was flavored with
gesagine and apple, the latter a flavor introduced by the humans that had found much favor among the
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Sakuntala. He wore old-style strappings around his waist to shield his privates, while the bands of dark
blue synthetics that crisscrossed his chest were of off-world manufacture. Attached to both sets of straps
were a variety of items both traditional and modern, the latter purchased from the town shops with credit
he had earned from providing services to various human and Deyzara enterprises.

Now it seemed that despite his reluctance he was about to provide one more such service. Despite the
prospect of acquiringmula as well as credit, he would just as soon have seen the task given to another.
But Kenkeru-jah had been adamant. He was as stuck with the assignment as a kroun that had been
crammed into the crook of a drowning sabelbap tree.

Raindrops slid off his transparent eyelids as he glanced upward. Not much precipitation today: barely a
digitтАЩs worth. Of course, it had rained very heavily yesterday. Clouds, like individuals, needed time to
replenish themselves. The fact that it rained every day on most of Fluva seemed to be a source of some
amusement to newly arrived humans. Once they had been stuck on Fluva for about a season, however,
Jemunu-jah had observed, the weather rapidly ceased to be a source of humor for the bald visitors.

Well, not entirely bald, he corrected himself. A fair number of humans owned at least a little fur. In that
respect they were better than the Deyzara, who were truly and completely hairless.

With an easy jump, he crossed from one suspended walkway to another, saving time as he made his
way through town. A few humans could duplicate such acrobatic feats but preferred not to. One spill into
the water below, arms and legs flailing wildly, was usually enough to prevent them from trying to imitate
the inherent agility of the tall, long-armed Sakuntala. No Deyzara would think of attempting the
comparatively undemanding jump. Human children could not be prevented from trying it, though. This
was allowed, since the waters beneath the town limits were netted to keep out pтАЩforana, mтАЩainiki, and
other predators who would delight in making a meal of any child unlucky enough to tumble into
unprotected waters. That went for Sakuntala children as well as human and Deyzara, he knew. But when
they jumped, Sakuntala youngsters only rarely missed.

The rain intensified, falling steadily, if not forcefully. Making his way through the continuous shower, he
passed more Deyzara. Like the humans, the two-trunks wore an assortment of specialized outer attire
intended to keep the rain from making contact with their skin. To Jemunu-jah this seemed the height of
folly. For a Sakuntala, it was as natural to be wet as dry. As visitors who came and went from Fluva the
humans could be excused for their reticence to move about naked beneath the rain. But the Deyzara,
who had been living and working on the world of the Big Wet for hundreds of years, should have
adapted better by now. For all the many generations that had passed, they still displayed a marked
aversion to the unrelenting precipitation, though they had otherwise adapted well to the climate. The one
month out of the year that it did not rain was their period of celebration and joy. In contrast, it was during
such times that the Sakuntala tended to stay inside their houses, showering daily and striving to keep
moist.