"L Ron Hubbard - Mission Earth 03 - The Enemy Within" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hubbard L. Ron)

The yellow-orange flame light painted the room. She slipped quietly through the door. Like a
shadow she flowed to her pillows. She sat cross-legged in the center of the room. She put down a
large, silver, mirror-shiny tray, her cura irizva and tambourine. She wore baggy pantaloons of
gray, a silver-embroidered short jacket that hid her breasts but exposed her stomach and arms. She
had a silver band around her hair. She was veiled.
Her head was down. She was not looking at me.
She just sat there. From time to time she sighed.
I was afraid to speak for fear she would run away. But after a very long time, I whispered,
"Why are you downcast?"
In a very low, husky voice she said, "O Master, I am sad because I cannot tolerate the
thought of being without the bare necessities of life. I sigh for the deprivation of not having
silk handkerchiefs, French bubble bath, antiperspirant and Chennel Number 5. I require only minor
cash to buy themтАФa few hundred thousand lira."
She looked so sad, slumped there. She was a wild, primitive nomad of the Kara Kum desert. It
would not do to remind her she was now a slave. Naturally she needed money to buy necessities. How
she must have missed them, tending camels in that sandy waste.
"They are yours," I said in a lordly manner.
At once she sat up straight. Her eyes flicked at me and then were demurely downcast.
She picked up her little drum and began to beat upon it, slowly, timidly. Then she began to


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hum a wordless, plaintive tune.
I knew she was encouraging herself.
The drumbeat grew stronger. Then in midbar she changed over from the drum to the silver tray
and began to beat upon it instead.
The tune she hummed became stronger, faster, less plaintive.
As she sat, her body began to sway. She came to her knees. Her body swayed more.
Her bracelets were hitting the tray with a crash! The beat became faster. In a sitting
position, but sitting on nothing, she began to kick out with her feet, one after the other!
In that sitting posture, kicking out her silvered toes in rhythm, banging the flashing tray,
she sailed around the room humming some savage tune! She actually seemed to float above the floor!
From one end of the room to the other she went, back and forth. Now at the end of each
passage, she leaped up, came down on her heels, extended and cried, "Heigh!" And then each time,
her bracelets rattled against the tray. Barbaric!
She was going in wide circles now. It was a Russian dance! She went faster. The tray crashed
louder as she banged it.
My body began to jump with the rhythm of it. I was following her with my eyes but my body
also began to twist to the left and to the right.
The circles were getting smaller. She was closer and closer to the center of the room.
And then she was back in the center. She was humming more intensely. She was on her knees.
She was swinging the tray above her head, the flat side facing me, left and right and left and
right, banging it with her hand each time.
I found my body twitching in response to the rhythm. My eyes followed the tray.
The yellow-orange flame flashed and flashed. I found myself panting in rhythm.
Her hips were grinding now. She ripped the veil from her face. Her eyes were on me like hot
coals.