"Alan Dean Foster - For Love Of Mother-Not" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

УDonТt come near me, boy. Not with that monster sleeping on your arm.Ф
УHe wouldnТt hurt you. Mother. Really.Ф
УIТd feel more confident if I had the snakeТs word on it as well as yours, boy. Now go on, get out, be off with the both of ye. If weТre fortunate, perhaps it will have some homing instinct and fly off when youТre not looking.Ф
But Pip did not fly off. It gave no sign of wishing to be anywhere in the Commonwealth save on the shoulder of a certain redheaded young man.
As Flinx strolled through the marketplace, he was startled to discover that his ability to receive the emotions and feelings of others had intensified, though none of the isolated bursts of reception matched in fury that first over-powering deluge of the night before. His receptivity bad increased in frequency and lucidity, though it still seemed as unpredictable as ever. Flinx suspected that his new pet might have something to do with his intensified abilities, but he had no idea how that worked, anymore than he knew how his Talent operated at the best of times.
If only he could find someone to identify the snake! He could always work through his terminal back home, but requests for information were automatically monitored at Central, and he was afraid that a query for information on so rare a creature might trigger alarm on the part of curious authorities. Flinx preferred not to go through official channels. He had acquired Mother MastiffТs opinion of governmental bueaucracy, which placed it somewhere between slime mold .and the fleurms that infested the alleys.
By now, he knew a great many inhabitants of the marketplace. Wherever he stopped, he inquired about the identity and origin of his pet. Some regarded the snake with curiosity, some with fear, a few with indifference. But none recognized it.
УWhy donТt you ask Makepeace?Ф one of the vendors eventually suggested. УHeТs traveled offworld. Maybe heТd know.Ф
Flinx found the old soldier sitting on a street corner with several equally ancient cronies. All of them were pensioneers. Most were immigrants who had chosen Moth for their final resting place out of love for its moist climate and because it was a comparatively cheap world to live on, not to mention the laxity of its police force. On Moth, no one was likely to question the source of oneТs pension money. For several of MakepeaceТs comrades, this was the prime consideration.
The other aged men and women studied the snake with nothing more than casual interest, but Makepeace reacted far more enthusiastically. УBless my remaining soul,Ф he muttered as he leaned close-but not too close, Flinx noted-for a better look. Pip raised his head curiously, as if sensing something beyond the norm in this withered biped.
УYou know what he is?Ф Flinx asked hopefully.
УAye, boy. Those are wings bulging its flanks, are they not?Ф Flinx nodded. УThen itТs surely an Alaspinian miniature dragon.Ф
Flinx grinned at the old man, then down at Pip. УSo thatТs what you are.Ф The snake looked up at him as if to say. IТm well aware of what I am, and do you always find the obvious so remarkable?
УI thought dragons were mythical creatures,Ф he said to Makepeace.
УSo they are. ItТs only a name given from resemblance, Flinx.Ф
УI suppose you know,Ф Flinx went on, Уthat he spits out a corrosive fluid.Ф
УCorrosive!Ф The old man leaned back and roared with laughter, slapping his legs and glancing knowingly at his attentive cronies. УCorrosive, he says!Ф He looked back at Flinx.
УThe minidragТs toxin is, my boy, a venomous acid known by a long string of chemical syllables which this old head canТt remember. I was a soldier-engineer. Biochemistry was never one of my favorite subjects. IТm more comfortable with mathematical terms than biological ones. But I can tell you this much, though I never visited Alas-pin myself.Ф He pointed at the snake, which drew its head back uncertainly. УIf that there thing was to spit in your eye, youТd be a kicking, quivering mess on the ground inside a minute-and dead in not much more than that.
I also remember that thereТs no known antidote for several of the Alaspinian toxins, of which that minidrag of yours wields the most potent. A corrosive, neurological poison-aye, who wouldnТt remember hearing about that? You say you know itТs corrosive?Ф
Flinx had an image of the dissolved end of the broomstick, the metal melted away ike cheese before a hot blade. He nodded.
УJust make sure you never get to know of it personally, lad. IТve heard tell of such creatures being kept as pets, but itТs a rare thing. See, the associational decisionТs all made by the snake. The would-be owner has no choice in the matter. You canТt tame Сem. They pick and choose for themselves.Ф He gestured toward FlinxТs shoulder. УLooks like that oneТs sure settled on you.Ф
УHeТs more than welcome,Ф Flinx said affectionately. УHe feels natural there.Ф
УEach to his own,Ф an elderly woman observed with a slight shudder. Affirmative nods came from others in the group.
УAnd thereТs something else, too.Ф The old soldier was frowning, struggling to remember long-dormant knowledge.УWhat you just said about it feeling СnaturalТ there reminded me. They say those flying snakes have funny mental quirks all their own. Now me, I wouldnТt be able to say for certain if thatТs so-IТm only relating hearsay, didnТt read it off no chip. But the stories persist.Ф
УWhat kind of stories?Ф Flinx asked, trying not to appear overanxious.
УOh, that the snakes are empathic. You know, telepathic on the emotional level.Ф He scratched his head. УThereТs more to it than that, but IТm damned if I can remember the rest of it.Ф
УThatТs certainly interesting,Ф Flinx said evenly, Уbut pretty unlikely.Ф
УYeah, I always thought so myself,Ф Makepeace agreed.УYou wouldnТt have noticed anything like that since being around this one, of course.Ф
УNot a thing.Ф Flinx was an expert at projecting an aura of innocence; in this case, it glowed from his face, not his mind. УThanks a lot for your time, Mr. Makepeace, sir.Ф
УYouТre more than welcome to it, boy. Old knowledge dies unless somebody makes use of it. You watch yourself around that thing. ItТs no saniff, and it might could turn on you.Ф
УIТll be careful,Ф Flinx assured him brightly. He turned and hurried away from the gaggle of attentive oldsters.Makepeace was rubbing his chin and staring after the youngster as he vanished into the swirling crowd. УFunny. Wonder where the little flying devil came from? This is one hell of a long way from Alaspin. That reminds me of the time ...Ф
Flinx glanced down at his shoulder. УSo youТre poisonous, hub? Well, anyone could have guessed that from the little demonstration you gave with MotherТs broom this morning. If you spit in my eye, IТll spit in yours.Ф
The snake did not take him up on the offer. It stared at him a moment, then turned its head away and studied the street ahead, evidently more interested in its surroundings than in its masterТs indecipherable words.
Maybe miniature dragons donТt have much of a sense of humor, Flinx mused. Probably he would have ample opportunity to find out. But at least he knew what his pet was. Glancing up beyond the fringe of the slickertic hood, he wondered where the snakeТs home world lay. Alaspin, old Makepeace had called it, and said it was far away.
The morning mist moistened his upturned face. The cloud cover seemed lighter than usual. If he was lucky, the gloom would part sometime that night and he would have a view of MothТs fragmented ice rings, of the moon Flame, and beyond that, of the stars.
Someday, he thought, someday IТll travel to far places as Makepeace and the others have. Someday IТll get off this minor wet world and go vagabonding. IТll be a free adult, with nothing to tie me down and no responsibilities. IТll lead a relaxed, uncomplicated life of simple pleasures. He glanced down at his new-found companion. Maybe someday they would even travel to the snakeТs home world of Alaspin, wherever it might be.
Sure you will, he thought bitterly. Better be realistic, like Mother Mastiff says. YouТre stuck here forever. MothТs your home, and MothТs where youТll spend the rest of your days. Count yourself fortunate. YouТve a concerned mother, a warm home, food ....
Food. Surely the flying snake was hungrier than ever. УWeТd better get you something to eat,Ф he told Pip, who gazed up at him with fresh interest.
He checked his credcard. Not much money there. Not that there ever was. Well, he could manage. Trouble was, he had no idea what Alaspinian minidrags liked to eat. УI wonder what youТd settle for,Ф he murmured. The snake did not respond. УIf itТs live food only, then I donТt think thereТs much I can do to help you. Not on a regular basis, anyway. LetТs try here, first.Ф
They entered a stall well known to Flinx. Most of the booths and tables were unoccupied, since it was between mealtimes. As it developed, finding suitable food for the minidrag turned out to be less of a problem than he had feared. Much to FlinxТs surprise, the flying snake was omnivorous. It would eat almost anything he set in front of it, but raw meat seemed to be a special favorite. Flinx cut the meat into small chunks, which the snake gulped down whole. Flinx helped himself to an occasional bite. When times were bad, he and Mother Mastiff had existed on far less savory items.
Pip was fond of any kind of fruit or berry, though it shied away from vegetables. Something else they had in, common. Flinx thought. Oddly enough, the snake would even lap up milk. Flinx was sure he could supply enough variety to keep his pet both happy and alive. Maybe it would even eat table scraps. Perhaps that would weaken Mother MastiffТs antagonism. As be experimented further, he discovered that the snake was particularly fond of anything with a high iron content, such as raisins or flakes of guarfish. Had he been a biochemist equipped with a field laboratory, he might have learned that the minidragТs blood contained an extraordinary amount of hemoglobin, vital to transport the oxygen necessary to sustain the snakeТs hummingbirdlike flight.
When Pip had swollen to twice his normal diameter, Flinx stopped trying new foods on his pet. He relaxed in the booth, sipping mulled wine and watching the lights of the city wink to life. It wouldnТt be too bad to live out his life on Moth, he admitted to himself. Drallar was never dull, and now he had a special companion with whom to share its excitement.
Yes, the flying snake had filled a definite void in his life as well as in some mysterious, deeper part of himself. But he still longed for the stars and the magical, unvisited worlds that circled them.
Be realistic, he ordered himself.
He waved to some acquaintances as they strolled past the restaurant. Older men and women. Sometimes Mother Mastiff worried that he preferred the company of adults to youngsters his own age. He couldnТt help it. It wasnТt that he was antisocial, merely that he chose his friends carefully. It was the immaturity of those his own age that drove him into the company of adults.
A fleeting emotion from one of those to whom he had waved reached back to him as the group rounded a corner, laughing and joking in easy camaraderie. Flinx snatched at it, but it was gone. He sat back in his booth, the wine making him moody. Better to have no Talent at all, he thought, than an unmanageable one that only teases.
He paid the modest bill, slipping his card into the tableТs central pylon. Outside, the evening rain had begun. Pip rode comfortably on his shoulder beneath the slickertic, only its head exposed. It was sated, content. Ought to be after all you ate, Flinx thought as he gazed fondly down at his pet.
Rain transformed the brilliant scales of the snakeТs head into tiny jewels. The moisture did not seem to bother the snake. I wonder, Flinx thought. Is Alaspin a wet world, also? I should have asked old Makepeace. HeТd probably have known. People lucky enough to travel learn every-thing sooner or later.
Suddenly a stinging, serrated burst of emotion-hammer blow, unexpected, raw-doubled him over with its force. It was like a soundless screaming inside his head. Flinx was feeling the naked emotion behind a scream instead of hearing the scream itself. He had never experienced anything like it before, and despite that, it felt sickeningly familiar.
A bundled-up passer-by halted and bent solicitously over the crumpled youngster. УAre you all right, son? You-У He noticed something and quickly backed off.