"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 2 - Tar Aiym Krang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

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Author: Alan Dean Foster
Title: The Tar-Aiym Krang
Series: Flinx of the Commonwealth


CHAPTER ONE

The Flinx was an ethical thief in that he stole only from the crooked. And' at that, only when it
was absolutely necessary. Well, perhaps not absolutely. But be tried to. Due to his environment
his morals were of necessity of a highly adaptable nature. And when one is living alone and has
not yet reached one's seventeenth summer, certain allowances in such matters must be made.
It could be argued, if the Flinx were willing to listen (a most unlikely happenstance),
that the ultimate decision as to who qualified as crooked and who did not was an awfully
totalitarian one to have to make. A philosopher would nod knowingly in agreement. Flinx could not
afford that luxury. His ethics were dictated by survival and not abstracts. It was to his great
credit that he had managed to remain on the accepted side of current temporal morality as much as
he. had so far. Then again, chance was also due a fair share of the credit.
As a rule, though, he came by his modest income mostly honestly. This was made necessary
as much by reason of common sense as by choice. A too-successful thief always attracts unwanted
attention. Eventually a criminal law of diminishing returns takes over.
And anyway, the jails of Drallar were notoriously inhospitable.
Good locations in the city for travelling jongleurs, minstrels, and such to display their
talents were limited. Some were far better than others. That he at his comparatively slight age
had managed to secure one of the best was a tribute to luck and the tenacity of old Mother
Mastiff. From his infancy she had reserved the small raised platform next to her shop for him,
driving off other entrepreneurs with shout or shot, as the occasion and vehemence of the
interloper required. Mother Mastiff was not her real name, of course, but that was what everyone
called her. Flinx included. Real names were of little use in Drallar's market-places. They served
poorly for identification and too well for the tax-gatherers. So in more appropriate ones were
rapidly bestowed upon each new inhabitant. Mother Mastiff, for example, bore a striking
resemblance to the Terran canine of the same name. It. was given in humour and, accepted with poor
grace, but accepted, nevertheless. Her caustic personality only tended to compliment the physical
similarity.
The man-child had been an orphan. Probably involuntary, as most of his ilk were. Slill,
who could tell? Had she not been passing the slave coops at that time and glanced casually m a
certain direction, she would never have noticed it. For reasons she had never fully understood she
had bought it, raised it, and set it to learning a trade as soon as it was old enough. Fortunately
his theatrical proclivities had manifested themselves at quite an early stage, along with his
peculiar talents. So the problem of choosing a trade solved itself. He proved to be a keen if
somewhat solemn observer, and so his own best apprentice. Fine and well, because the older
performers always became more nervous in his presence than they cared to admit. Rather than admit
it, they pronounced him unteachable, and left him to his own devices.
She had also taught him as early as was practical that in Drallar independence was ever so
much more than an intangible thought. It was a possession, even if it would not fit into one's
pocket or pouch, and to be valued as such. Still, when he had taken to her word and moved out to
live on his own, the sadness lingered with her as a new coat of paint. But she never revealed it
to him for fear of communicating weakness. Not in her words nor in her face. Urged oil
affectionately but firmly he was, much as the young birds of the Poles. Also she knew that for her