"Alan Dean Foster - The Empire of T'ang Lang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

night.

He stretched, and looked around. His magnificent senses could feel movement and life all
about. It was a fertile, green world. The vibrations in the earth beneath his feet, the odors
trundling past on the humid breeze тАФ he could read them all.

The sun was getting higher, the air hotter, he hungrier. There was little wind. A good day for
hunting.

Should he stay and wait for clumsy ground-dwellers? It was not a particularly good place.
And the city-folk would rarely approach him. What to do?

Well, it was a lovely day to bask in the sun. Why not combine both? And there was always
more challenge to hunting the sky-folk.

There were several great light-eaters about, in addition to the one whose body he'd
borrowed for shelter. On a whim, he sauntered casually over to the next one, testing the
footing around its somnolent body. The night's dew had left it chill and moist here. But T'ang
Lang, an expert and experienced climber, would have no trouble. He began to wend his way
upward.
This particular light-eater rose about a hundred times T'ang Lang's height. But he was not
subject to vertigo. Heights held no more fear for him than his neighbors. He had other
reasons for not climbing to the very top. The platform there was usually unstable. So while it
afforded a better view of his lands, the increased wind and smaller blind made prey harder
to come by, strikes more difficult.

He rose slowly, patiently, without the hurry that afflicted most climbers. Others who shared
the light-eater's body gave
him plenty of room.

About twenty body-lengths up, he passed a Retia-rius. The gladiator had snuggled himself
comfortably across the way. He waved to T'ang Lang as the other passed. T'ang favored the
creature with a long stare, putting only token power into it. He was clever with his net, was
the Retiarius. But it was not intended for the likes of T'ang Lang and the Retiarius knew it.

Even despite it, T'ang could still kill the gladiator and shred his precious net.

T'ang moved higher. For a moment, a plump tube-man crossed his path. But the clumsy
being was moving rapidly in the opposite direction. He was on a far platform with too much
open space between them. Perhaps it sensed T'ang Lang's presence. Perhaps not. T'ang
stared hard at it, opening his mind and focusing the strange power behind his mesmeric
eyes.

But the tube-man was out of range and knew it.

It turned once, to glance back at where T'ang fumed impotently on his temporary platform.
The ultimate insult.

For a moment, maybe, T'ang Lang was angry. Then he sighed. Let the tube-man have his
one moment of triumph. If ever he came within range of the smallest and lightest of Tang's