"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 4 - Voyage City of the Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

attached to a low dolly. Laughter gave way to curiosity and confusion among
the
members of the Zanur. The dolly had six axles and fat rubbery wheels made from
the treated sap of the arer tree.
From his place at the head of the long council table de--me-Halmur saw the
pile
of fine gray Salp pelts piled high on the dolly. They were valuable but not
exceptionally so. Cer-tainly they weren't heavy enough to require the use of a
six-axle and twelve strong Mai to pull the load. He could see the way muscles
strained against something massive but con-cealed. He stood slightly,
unconscious of the movement, to have a better view.
The laborers halted and moved aside. With the aid of his servants Panltatol
staggered to the dolly, Disdaining help, he reached out and shakily pulled the
skins onto the floor. They'd been sewn together and came off as one.
There was something else on the dolly, as de-me-Halmur suspected, but the
sight
of it struck him speechless-a single metal bar reposed on the wooden platform.
It was twisted and bent by some unknown force and was as thick as a large
Mai's
body. But that observation passed quickly. The Zan-ural were interested in its
composition far more than its shape.
It had not been polished and it displayed long gashes and much pitting,
evidence
of exposure to powerful chemicals or energies. Its color was familiar.
"I did not actually enter the place of the dead." Panltatol's voice was
weakening. "I was near, very near, when weather so terrible it cannot be
imagined except in dreams finally forced me to retreat. This relic I found on
the banks of the Skar, where the river had carried it. This alone I was able
to
bring back with me. Zanural of Po Rabi, this is my legacy."
Forgetting their dignity, abjuring protocol, they left their seats to examine
the massive metal bar. Sensitive six-fingered hands caressed the smooth gray
substance. The dull silvery sheen was a property of the metal itself.
It looked like sunit. It had the color of sunit. It felt like sunit. When
three
of the Zanural from northern Po Rabi tried to lift it and could not, they were
positive it was sunit.
De-Changrit, who on the Zanur was second in power only to de-me-Halmur
himself,
removed a small ingot from the money belt that circled his waist. It was a
serl,
the largest denomination coined by any of the great city-states that lined the
shores of the Groalamasan Ocean, newly minted in pow-erful Chienba. He placed
it
in one of the gouges cut in the flank of the bar and tried to calculate the
worth of the twisted mass in his head. He was a superb businessmai and his
estimate was very near the mark.
"Several million," he announced aloud. "At least." Hav-ing already made their
own calculations, several of his associates nodded by way of confirmation.
De-Panltatol abruptly sat down on the edge of the dolly, leaning back against