"Herbert, Frank - Man of Two Worlds (CA by Frank Herbert)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

He recalled his initial shock at the ship's odd behavior.

"My name is Ryll."

He had said this in a patronizing tone, the one taught for use with Excursion Ships. The response was unexpected:

"Don't take that tone with me!"

He remembered sitting in the control room, shocked by the ship's commanding tone. Did it suspect he was adventuring? He thought of his intentions as adventure, not as stealing.

I was escaping Dreenor's boredom.

Ryll had been extremely tired of all the talk about his gifts and potential. What did they expect from a son of Jongleur, the Chief Storyteller? He thought the Elders would call his taking the ship a schoolboy prank if they caught him.

So I took the ship. And I am Dreen but far away from Dreenor.

He had no idea how he knew these things nor why it was important to reflect on being Dreen.

Why don't I think of myself as graceful?

Was it that he could completely alter his appearance but could not make piecemeal changes? A Dreen's floppy ear covers draped like small brown blankets down each side of his body. Very impractical, as was the large horn-tool nose that dominated his face from the widow's peak of pink hair atop a neckless and shoulderless body to the concealed mouth that revealed itself only when open to receive food or make noises.

He had a memory vision of fellow Dreens lifting an ear flap and asking speakers to repeat themselves. Impracticably: small mouth, weak vocal cords, ears blanketed. By idmaging, he could shapeshift his entire body, but tradition dictated he never do this on Dreenor. Metamorphoses were reserved for offworld. Dreenor was a place of sanctuary and storytelling camaraderie.

Ryll wished he were back on Dreenor now to share a tale of distant travel, idmage creations and adventure.

That's why I defied my Elders and took the ship. I was tired of the boring schoolboy life. I wanted to be the youngest Junior Storyteller. That's why I did it. That's why I'm here on this slippery deck.

Slippery deck?

His eyes remained swiveled inward to darkness but more details began to surface.

The ship.

Many ships sat on the mud-brown Flat of Dreenor, coming and going with their Storyteller captains. The ships were great bulbous things with extruded sensors like waving cilia to guide them through the Spirals of Creation in tangled space.

Sometimes, for no observable reason a ship would remain unchosen and dormant, awaiting just the right captain. That was the way it had been with this ship. It had been part of Ryll's environment from earliest childhood only a few months out of seedhouse.

Even before being sent to the school for gifted children he had thought of this ship as his own, creating fantasies of himself in the Spirals.

He had wondered often about its personality. The varied personalities of Excursion Ships as taught in school fascinated him. Ships were almost like people. But this one . . .

"You will call me Patricia!"

Ryll's proctors had told him the most enjoyable trips into the tangles of space were on ships having personalities compatible with your own. You chose your ship with great care.

Patricia?

Immediate sense impressions demanded attention. What was this viscous fluid under him? Why the dullness in his body? Something was disturbingly wrong. Had Patricia malfunctioned? Impossible! Excursion Ships were idmaged to be perfect. Then what was this erratic spinning motion holding him to the deck?