"Harry Harrison - 50 in 50 - Fifty Stories in Fifty Years" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

"I'm not your son," was all Garth could choke out as the bitterness and defeat welled up within him.
His fist drew back as the anger rose, and the best he could do was open the fist so he struck only with
the flat of his hand. Still the blow sent the priest crashing to the ground and hurled the white pages of the
book splattering into the thick mud.
Itin and the other Weskers had watched everything with seemingly emotionless interest. Garth made
no attempt to answer their unspoken questions. He started towards his house, but turned back when he
saw they were still unmoving.
"A new man has come," he told them. "He will need help with the things he has brought. If he doesn't
have any place for them, you can put them in the big warehouse until he has a place of his own."
He watched them waddle across the clearing towards the ship, then went inside and gained a certain
satisfaction from slamming the door hard enough to crack one of the panes. There was an equal amount
of painful pleasure in breaking out one of the remaining bottles of Irish whiskey that he had been saving
for a special occasion. Well this was special enough, though not really what he had had in mind. The
whiskey was good and burned away some of the bad taste in his mouth, but not all of it. If his tactics had
worked, success would have justified everything. But he had failed and in addition to the pain of failure
there was the acute feeling that he had made a horse's ass out of himself. Singh had blasted off without
any goodbyes. There was no telling what sense he had made of the whole matter, though he would surely
carry some strange stories back to the trader's lodge. Well, that could be worried about the next time
Garth signed in. Right now he had to go about setting things right with the missionary. Squinting out
through the rain he saw the man struggling to erect a collapsible tent while the entire population of the
village stood in ordered ranks and watched. Naturally none of them offered to help.
By the time the tent was up and the crates and boxes stowed inside it the rain had stopped. The level
of fluid in the bottle was a good bit lower and Garth felt more like facing up to the unavoidable meeting.
In truth, he was looking forward to talking to the man. This whole nasty business aside, after an entire
solitary year any human companionship looked good. Will you join me now for dinner! John Garth, he
wrote on the back of an old invoice. But maybe the guy was too frightened to come? Which was no way
to start any kind of relationship. Rummaging under the bunk, he found a box that was big enough and put
his pistol inside. Itin was of course waiting outside the door when he opened it, since this was his tour as
Knowledge Collector. He handed him the note and box.
"Would you take these to the new man?" he said.
"Is the new man's name New Man?" Itin asked.
"No, it's not!" Garth snapped. "His name is Mark. But I'm only asking you to deliver this, not get
involved in conversation."
As always when he lost his temper, the literal-minded Weskers won the round. "You are not asking
for conversation," Itin said slowly, "but Mark may ask for conversation. And others will ask me his
name,- if I do not know his naтАФ"
The voice cut off as Garth slammed the door. This didn't work in the long run either because next
time he saw ItinтАФa day, a week, or even a month laterтАФthe monologue would be picked up on the very
word it had ended and the thought rambled out to its last frayed end. Garth cursed under his breath and
poured water over a pair of the tastier concentrates that he had left.
"Come in," he said when there was a quiet knock on the door. The priest entered and held out the
box with the gun.
"Thank you for the loan, Mr. Garth, I appreciate the spirit that made you send it. I have no idea of
what caused the unhappy affair when I landed, but I think it would be best forgotten if we are going to be
on this planet together for any length of time."
"Drink?" Garth asked, taking the box and pointing to the bottle on the table. He poured two glasses
full and handed one to the priest. "That's about what I had in mind, but I still owe you an explanation of
what happened out there." He scowled into his glass for a second, then raised it to the other man. "It's a
big universe and I guess we have to make out as best we can. Here's to Sanity."
 "God be with you," Father Mark said, and raised his glass as well.