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

did not flinch at the nightmare visions. Soft and flabby, surely for all their size they could not
be much in the way of warriors.

Could they communicate, perhaps? He chose the smaller of the two Mountains, thought at it:

CAN YOU THINK? WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THE UNIVERSE? ARE YOU IN HARMONY?
FOR ALL YOUR SIZE I FEAR YOU NOT. COME AND FIGHT, IF YOU WILL.
NO? YOU HAVE CROSSED THE GREEN PLAIN, I HAVE SEEN YOU DO IT. WAS IT FOR
A PURPOSE? OR DO YOU ALWAYS WANDER AIMLESSLY? I AM T'ANG LANG, THE
KILLER! STAY AND FIGHT, OR GO IN PEACE.

The Moving Mountain made no answer. Definitely, T'ang Lang was not impressed. In fact, he
was by now a little bored. He still had hunting to do and these great, ludicrous beings
obscured his vision. Did they mean to stand there forever?

The sun, now that was impressive. The Bodikid-dartha was impressive. But these? They
were simply big. Fagh!

The smaller Mountain of the two leaned forward, ponderously. Its bulk shut out the sun. A
great misshapen limb extended itself toward T'ang's platform.

So it was to be battle after all? Come, then! T'ang steadied himself. All the power of his
mind was directed outward in one great withering blast of mental energy.

The limb paused, hesitated. The huge saucer-shaped eyes blinked. Slowly, the limb was
retracted. The Mountain looked at it's companion for a moment. Then the two turned and
lumbered off across the Green Plain, their size devouring the distance.

T'ang had won.

Giver of light and warmth, the sun had sunk lower in the sky. It was dragging the heat down
with it. T'ang could sense the approaching chill. It crawled at his back armor.

He'd made another kill, a late one. A tube-man, this time, though not the same one he'd
seen earlier. It had been fat and plump, a good meal.

Perhaps he would rest among the platforms of this light-eater tonight. It was a good spot.

He thought again on the Moving Mountains. Could he have been wrong? Mightn't they be
intelligent, after all? If only he could compare thoughts with another emperor! Or even an
empress. But that was quite unthinkable тАФ for now, at least.

He sighed and turned, working his way back toward the heart of the light-eater. Intelligent or
no, T'ang did not feel sanguine about the possibilities of contact.

It pained him.