"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 1 - For love of Mother-Not" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

the milling, would-be purchasers were indifferent to his presence.
To the boyтАЩs right stood a tall, slim representative of the government who ran the official sale-
an assignment of responsibility, they called it-for the welfare bureau. Across from her a large
readout listed the boyтАЩs vital statistics, which Mother Mastiff eyed casually.
Height and weight matched what she could see. Color of hair, eyes, and skin she had already noted.
Living relative, assigned or otherwise-a blank there. Personal history-another blank. A child of
accident and calamity, she thought, thrown like so many others on the untender mercies of
government care. Yes, he certainly would be better off under the wing of a private individual, by
the looks of him. He might at least receive some decent food.
And yet there was something more to him, something that set him apart from the listless precision
of orphans who paraded across that rain-swept platform, season after season. Mother Mastiff sensed
something lurking behind those wide, mournful eyes-a maturity well beyond his years, a greater
intensity to his stare than was to be expected from a child in his position. That stare continued


file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20A...linx%201%20-%20For%20Love%20of%20Mother-Not.txt (1 of 96) [1/16/03 6:42:12 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20Alan%20Dean%20-%20Flinx%201%20-%20For%20Love%20of%20Mother-Not.txt

to rove over the crowd, probing, searching. There was more of the hunter about the boy than the
bunted.
The rain continued to fall. What activity there was among the watchers was concentrated on the
back right comer of the platform, where a modestly attractive girl of about sixteen was next in
line for consignment. Mother Mastiff let out a derisive snort. Government assurances or not, yea
couldnтАЩt tell her that those pushing, shoving snots in the front row didnтАЩt have something on
their minds be-yond an innocently altruistic concern for the girlтАЩs future. 0h,no!
The ever-shifting cluster of potential benefactors formed an island around which eddied the
greater population of the marketplace. The marketplace itself was concentrated into a ring of
stalls and shops and restaurants and dives that encircled the city center. The result was just
modem enough to function and sufficiently unsophisticated to atтАЩ tract those intrigued by the
mysterious.
It held no mysteries for Mother Mastiff. The marketplace of Drallar was her home. Ninety years she
had spent battling that endless river of humanity and aliens, some-times being sucked down,
sometimes rising above the flow, but never in danger of drowning. Now she had a shop-small, but
her own. She bargained for objects dтАЩart, traded knicknacks, electronics, and handicrafts, and
managed to make just enough to keep herself clear of such places as the platform on which the boy
was standing. She put herself in his place and shuddered. A ninety-year-old woman would not bring
much of a price.
There was an awkwardly patched rip at the neck of her slickertic, and rain was beginning to find
its way through the widening gap. The pouch of salables she clutched to her thin waist wasnтАЩt
growing any lighter. Mother Mastiff had other business to transact, and she wanted to be back home
before dark. As the sun of Moth set, the murky daylight of Drallar would fade to a slimy darkness,
and things less than courteous would emerge from the slums that impinged on the marketplace. Only
the careless and the cocky wandered abroad at such times, and Mother Mastiff was neither.
As the boyтАЩs eyes roved over the audience, they eventually reached her own-and stopped. Suddenly,
Mother Mastiff felt queasy, unsteady. Her hand went to her stomach. Too much grease in the
morningтАЩs breakfast, she thought. The eyes had already moved on. Since she had turned eighty-five,
she had had to watch her diet. But, as she had told a friend, тАЬIтАЩd rather die of indigestion and
on a full stomach than waste away eating pills and concentrates.тАЭ
тАЬOne side there,тАЭ she abruptly found herself saying, not sure what she was doing or why. тАЬOne
side.тАЭ She broke a path through the crowd, poking one observer in the ribs with her cane,