"Foster, Alan Dean - Flinx 1 - For Love of Mother-Not" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

"If you insist. Go, then."
Flinx favored the woodworker with a last smile, then spun and marched rapidly toward the main avenue. Arrapkha watched until the youngster was swallowed up by the crowd, then retreated to his own stall. He had business to attend to, and that, after all, was the first rule of life in the marketplace.
Flinx hadn't gone far before the smells of the market were replaced by the odors, heavy and musky, of locally popular native transport animals. They were usually slower and less efficient then mechanized transport, but they had other advantages: they could not be traced via their emissions, and they were cheap to rent and to use.
In a licensed barn, Flinx picked out a healthy-looking stupava. The tall running bird was a good forager and could live off the land. It stood two and a half meters at its bright orange crest and closely resembled its far more intelligent cousins, the omithorpes, who did not object to the use of ignorant relatives as beasts of burden. Flinx haggled with the barn manager for a while, finally settling on a fair price. The woman brought the bird out of its stall and saddled it for the youngster. "You're not going to do anything funny with this bird, now?"
"Just going for a little vacation," Flinx answered her blithely. "I've finished my studies for the year and owe myself the time off."
"Well, Garuyie here will take you anywhere you might want to go. He's a fine, strong bird." She stroked the tall bird's feathers.
"I know." Flinx put his right foot in the first stirrup, his left in the second, and threw his body into the saddle. "I can see that from his legs."
The woman nodded, feeling a little more relaxed. Evidently, her youthful customer knew what he was doing.
She handed him the reins.
"All right, then. Have a -pleasant journey."
Flinx had indeed ridden such birds before, but only within the city limits and not for any length of time. He snapped the reins, then gave the bird a serious whistle. It booted back and started off, its long legs moving easily. Guiding it with gentle tugs of the reins and sharp whistles, Flinx soon had the stupava moving at a respectable rate up the first spoke avenue, jostling aside irritated pedestrians and avoiding faster public vehicles. The stupava seemed undisturbed by Pip's presence, a good sign. It would not do to bead into the great forest on an easily spooked mount.
In a gratifyingly short time, Flinx found they had retraced his frenzied marathon of the night before. A sawmill passed by on his left, the corn booth that had sheltered him somewhere behind it. Then only the forest loomed ahead. Trees, a hundred meters tall and higher soared above scattered smaller trees and bushes. Where the pavement vanished there was only a muddy trail. The stupava wouldn't mind that-its splayed, partially webbed feet would carry them over the bogs and sumps with ease.
"Heigh there!" he shouted softly at the bird, following the command with a crisp whistle. The stupava cawed once, jerked its head sharply against the bridle, and dashed off into the woods. The regular flap-flap from beneath its feet gave away to an irregular whacking sound broken by occasional splashes as it spanned a deeper puddle. Sometimes they touched thick moss or fungi and there was no sound at all. In no time, the immense trees formed a solid wall of bark and green behind Flinx, and the city that was his home was for the first time completely out of his sight.

Chapter Seven

Joppe the Thief thought sure he had found himself a couple of fleurms. The man and woman he was stalking so intently looked to be in their midthirties. Their dress was casual, so casual that one not interested in it might not have identified them as offworlders. Their presence in that part of Drallar's marketplace late at night proved one of two things to Joppe: either they had a great deal of confidence in their ability to pass unnoticed, or they were simply ignorant. Joppe guessed they were searching for a little excitement.
That was fine with Toppe. He would happily provide them with some excitement, something really memorable to relate to the neighbors back home on some softer world like Terra or New Riviera. They did not look like the kind who would be awkward about it. If they were, then they might have more than merely an interesting encounter to talk about.
Joppe was hungry. He had not made a strike in over a week. He regarded the strolling, chatting couple with the eye of a covetous farmer examining a pair of his prize meat animals.
As it was still comparatively early, not: all the lights had been extinguished in that part of the marketplace, but enough of the shops had closed to give Joppe hope. The nature of his work required privacy. He did not rush himself. Joppe had an instinctive feel for his work. He had to balance waiting for more shopkeepers to retire against the possibility of the couple's realizing their error and turning back toward the more brightly lit sections of the market.
The couple did not seem inclined to do that. Joppe's hopes continued to rise. He could hear them clearly, talking about some sight seen earlier in the day. Joppe's hand closed around the handle of the little needier in his pocket, and he started forward, closing the distance between himself and his prey.By now the couple had reached the end of the cul-de-sac and had stopped in front of the last shop, which was shuttered and dark. They seemed to be debating something. Then the man bent to the shop's door and took several objects from his pockets. He started manipulating something out of Joppe's view.
The thief slowed, the needier only halfway out of his holster pocket, and stared in confusion. What were they up to? He moved a little nearer, still clinging to the shadows. He was close enough to see that the door was sealed with a palm lock, which required the imprint of all five of the shop owner's fingers, in proper sequence, to release. The little black disk that the tourist had attached to the palm lock was a very expensive, sophisticated device for decoding and solving such locks. The man's fingers roved over the keys, and he examined the readout with the attitude of someone who not only knew exactly what he was doing but who had done it frequently.
While the man worked at the door, his companion stood watching him, hands on hips, obviously intent on what he was doing. Abruptly, she glanced away from her husband, and Joppe found himself staring straight at her.
The matronly giggle she had affected all evening was abruptly gone from her voice. Suddenly, nothing about her seemed soft. The unexpected transformation, accomplished solely by a change in posture and tone, was shocking. "I'm sorry we had to waste your evening, friend, but we needed a good screen to keep away the rest of the rabble. Thanks for that. Now turn around, call it a bad day, and look elsewhere. We don't have time for you right now. Oh, and leave that gun where it won't do you or anyone else any harm, okay?" Then she smiled pleasantly.
Too startled to react, Joppe just stood there, his hand still clutching the needier. He could take this one, he thought momentarily. However, something in her stance held him back. The proximity of a weapon was clearly implied, as was the intent to use it. Her companion had paused in his work and crouched before the doorway in a waiting position.
This was all very wrong, Joppe thought. He was not an especially imaginative individual, but he was an intent observer, and he was good at putting things together.
Here stood an offworld couple dressed for an evening out, calmly working a lock decoder on an unprepossessing stall doorway at the end of a side street on a dark and damp night. That, plus the way the woman had spoken to him, did not add up
Joppe let go the needier and took his hand from his pocket. Slowly, his fingers spread so that they could see he held nothing in them. He nodded once, smiled a twisted,
fleeting smile at the woman, and backed away. She returned his smile. He backed away until the shadows engulfed him once again and he stood behind a protective stone wall. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. His pulse was racing. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he turned and just peeked around the edge of the wall. The woman had not budged, and was still staring after him. The man had returned to his work.
Joppe was well out of his depth, and he knew it. With-out another backward glance, he turned and jogged off toward the main avenue, disappointed with his luck and still hungry for a strike. As to the purpose of the peculiar couple, he gave it not another thought. Such folk operated on a level far above that of Joppe and his ilk and were better forgotten.
"Sensible, that one," the woman said thoughtfully. She turned her attention from the distant street to her companion's work. "I thought he might give us trouble."
"Better that he didn't," her companion agreed. "We don't need to fool with such silliness. Not now." His fingertips danced lightly over the keys set into the black disk.
"How you coming?" the woman asked, peering over his shoulder.
"How does it look like I'm coming?"
"No need to be sarcastic," she said easily.
"It's an updated twenty-six," he informed her. "I didn't expect anyone in this slum would take the trouble and expense to keep updating something like this. Someone sure likes his privacy."
"Don't you?"
"Very funny." Suddenly, the disk emitted a soft beep, and the numbers on the readout froze. "That's got it." The man's tone was relaxed, methodical. There was no pleasure in his announcement, only a cool, professional satisfaction. He touched buttons set at five points spaced evenly around the black disk. It beeped again, twice. The illuminated numbers vanished from the readout. Unsealing the disk, he slid it back inside his coat. There were a number of pockets inside that coat, all filled with the kinds of things that would raise the hackles of any police chief. The man put a hand on the door and pushed. It moved aside easily. After a last, cursory glance up the narrow street, the two of them stepped inside.
The center section of the man's ornate belt buckle promptly came to life, throwing a narrow but powerful beam of light. It was matched a moment later by a similar beam projected from his companion's brooch. They wandered around the stall, noting the goods on display and occasionally sniffing disdainfully at various overpriced items.Inspection led them to an inner door and its simpler locking mechanism.
Both stood just inside the second doorway and gazed around the living area. "Someone put up a hell of fight," the man commented softly.
"The boy-or his adoptive mother, do you think?" "The woman moved in, stooping to examine an overturned end table and the little silver vase that had tumbled from it. The vase was empty. She carefully replaced it where it had fallen.
"Maybe both of them." Her companion was already inspecting the larger of the two bedrooms. They went through the area methodically: kitchen, bedrooms, even the hygiene facilities.
When they had finished-and it did not take them very long-and when fingerprinted samples of air and dust and tiny bits of hopefully significant detritus had been relegated to the safety of tiny storage vials, the man asked his companion, "What do you think? Wait for them here?"
The woman shook her head as she glanced around the kitchen-dining area. "They obviously left under duress-and you know what that suggests."
"Sure, that's occurred to me. No way it couldn't. But there's no guarantee."
She laughed, once. "Yeah, there's no guarantee, but what do you think?'
"The same as you. I'm just saying we shouldn't jump to conclusions."
"I know, I know. Isn't it odd, though, that both of them are missing? That surely suggests something other than a common break-in."
"I said I concurred." The man's tone was a mite testy. "What now?"
"The shopkeeper up the street who watched us break in," she said. He nodded agreement.