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

УMastiff,Ф the visitor replied, leaning on her cane.
УThat the last name?Ф
УFirst and last.Ф
УMastiff Mastiff?Ф The clerk gave her a sour look.
УJust Mastiff,Ф the old woman said.
УThe government prefers multiple names.Ф
УYe know what the government can do with its preferences.Ф
The clerk sighed. He tapped the terminalТs keys. УAge?Ф
УNone of your business.Ф She gave it a momentТs thought and added, УPut down old.Ф
The clerk did so, shaking his head dolefully. УIncome?Ф
УSufficient.Ф
УNow look here, you,Ф the clerk began exasperated, Уin such matters as the acquisition of responsibility for welfared individuals, the city government requires certain specifics.Ф
УThe city government can shove its specifics in after its preferences.Ф Mother Mastiff gestured toward the platform with her cane, a wide, sweeping gesture that the clerk had the presence of mind to duck. УThe bidding is over. The other bidder has taken his leave. Hastily. Now I can take my money and go home, or I can contribute to the governmentТs balance of payments and to your salary. Which is it to be?Ф
УOh, all right,Ф the clerk agreed petulantly. He completed his entries and punched a key. A seemingly endless form spat from the printout slot. Folded, it was about half a centimeter thick. УRead these.Ф
Mother Mastiff hefted the sheaf of forms. УWhat are they?Ф
УRegulations regarding your new charge. The boy is yours to raise, not to mistreat. Should you ever be detected in violation of the instructions and laws therein statedФ-he gestured at the wad-Уhe can be recovered from you with forfeiture of the acquisition fee. In addition, you must familiarize yourself with-У He broke off the lecture as the boy in question was escorted into the room by another official.
The youngster glanced at the clerk, then up at Mother Mastiff. Then, as if heТd performed similar rituals on previous occasions, he walked quietly up to her, took her left hand, and put his right hand in it. The wide, seemingly guileless eyes of a child gazed up at her face. They were bright green, she noted absently.
УThe clerk was about to continue, then found something unexpected lodged in his throat and turned his attention instead back to his desk top. УThatТs all. The two of you can go.Ф
Mother Mastiff harrumphed as if she had won a victory and led the boy out onto the streets of Drallar. They had supplied him with that one vital piece of clothing, a small blue slickertic of his own. He pulled the cheap plastic tighter over his head as they reached the first intersection.
УWell, boy, Сtis done. Devil come take me and tell me if I know why I did it, but I expect that IТm stuck with ye now. And ye, with me, of course. Do you have anything at the dorm we should go to recover?Ф
He shook his head slowly. Quiet sort, she thought. That was all to the good. Maybe he wouldnТt be a quick squaller. She still wondered what had prompted her sudden and uncharacteristic outburst of generosity. The boyТs hand was warm in her gnarled old palm. That palm usually enfolded a credcard for processing other peopleТs money or artwork to be studied with an eye toward purchase and even, on occasion, a knife employed for something more radical than the preparation of food, but never before the hand of a small child. It was a peculiar sensation.
They worked their way through crowds hurrying to beat the onset of night, avoiding the drainage channels that ran down the center of each street. Thick aromas drifted from the dozens of food stalls and restaurants that fringed the avenue they were walking. Still the boy said not a word. Finally, tired of the way his face would turn toward any place from which steam and smells rose, Mother Mastiff halted before one establishment with which she was familiar. They were nearly home, anyway.
УYou hungry, boy?Ф
He nodded slowly, just once.
УStupid of me. I can go all day without food and not give it a second thought. I forget sometimes that others have not that tolerance in their bellies.Ф She nodded toward the doorway. УWell, what are ye waiting for?Ф
She followed him into the restaurant, then led the way to a quiet booth set against the wall. A circular console rose from the center of the table. She studied the menu imprinted on its flank, compared it with the stature of the child seated expectantly next to her, then punched several buttons set alongside the menu.
Before too long, the console sank into the table, then reappeared a moment later stacked with food; a thick, pungent stew dimpled with vegetables, long stalks of some beige tuber, and a mass of multistriped bread.
УGo ahead,Ф she said when the boy hesitated, admiring his reserve and table manners. УIТm not too hungry, and I never eat very much.Ф
She watched him while he devoured the food, sometimes picking at the colorful bread to assuage what little hunger she felt herself, barely acknowledging the occasional greeting from a passing acquaintance or friend. When the bottom of the stew bowl had been licked to a fine polish and the last scrap of bread had vanished, she asked, УStill hungry?Ф
He hesitated, measuring her, then gave her a half nod. УIТm not surprised,Ф she replied, Уbut I donТt want ye to have any more tonight. YouТve just downed enough to fill a grown man. Any more on top of what youТve already had and youТd end up wasting it all. Tomorrow morning, okay?Ф He nodded slowly, understanding.
УAnd one more thing, boy. Can ye talk?Ф
УYes.Ф His voice was lower than anticipated, unafraid and, she thought, tinged with thankfulness.
УI can talk pretty good,Ф he added without further prompting, surprising her. УIТve been told that for my age IТm a very good talker.Ф
УThatТs nice. I was starting to worry.Ф She slid from her seat, using her cane to help her stand, and took his hand once again. УItТs not too far now.Ф
УNot too far to where?Ф
УTo where I live. To where ye will live from now on.Ф They exited the restaurant and were enveloped by the wet night.
УWhatТs your name?Ф He spoke without looking up at her, preferring instead to study the dim storefronts and isolated, illuminated shops. The intensity of his inspection seemed unnatural.
УMastiff,Ф she told him, then grinned. У Tis not my real name, boy, but one that someone laid upon me many years ago. For better or worse, itТs stuck longer with me than any man. СTis the name of a dog of exceptional ferocity and ugliness.Ф
УI donТt think youТre ugly,Ф the boy replied. УI think youТre beautiful.Ф
She studied his open, little-boy expression. Dim-witted, dim-sighted, or maybe just very smart, she thought.
УCan I call you Mother?Ф he asked hopefully, further confusing her. УYou are my mother now, arenТt you?Ф
УSort of, I expect. DonТt ask me why.Ф
УI wonТt cause you any trouble.Ф His voice was suddenly concerned, almost frightened. УIТve never caused anyone any trouble, honest. I just want to be left alone.Ф
Now what would prompt a desperate confession like that? she wondered. She decided not to pursue the matter. УIТve no demands to make on ye,Ф she assured him. УIТm a simple old woman, and I live a simple life. It pleases me. It had best please ye as well.Ф
УIt sounds nice,Ф he admitted agreeably. УIТll do my best to help you any way I can.Ф
УDevil knows thereТs plenty to do in the shop. IТm not quite as flexible as I used to be.Ф She chuckled aloud. УGet tired before midnight now. You know, I actually need a full four hoursТ sleep? Yes, I think ye can be of service. YouТd best be. Ye cost enough.Ф
УIТm sorry,Ф he said, abruptly downcast.
УStop that. IТll have none of that in my home.Ф
УI mean, IТm sorry that I upset you.Ф
She let out a wheeze of frustration, knelt and supported herself with both hands locked to the shaft of the cane. It brought her down to his eye level. He stood there and gazed solemnly back at her.