"Monica Hughes - Devil On My Back" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Monica)

"Better not move, Little Lord, or you'll lose more than your dignity."
He stood quivering. He recognized one of the soldiers across the concourse. "Do something," he
wailed, but the man's face was blank with shock. There was obviously nothing in his fighting pak to tell
him how to cope with this situation.
"Listen, soldiers," said the slave who seemed to be the leader of the three. "Unless you want to
see the blood of the New Lord of Bentt trickling at your feet you'd better start moving. Around to the
right there. Yes, all of you. Down the Southeast corridor. Go on. Hurry it. To passage Five. Now out of
sight. I don't want a sight of red anywhere."
As soon as the soldiers had vanished, the three slaves dragged Tomi around the concourse to the
next bank of elevators and the next group of soldiers.
 "Help me!" screamed Tomi, and the men sprang forward, only to freeze when they saw the knife
at Tomi's throat. Again they were forced to retreat up the corridor and out of sight.
Tomi was pushed along the Southwest corridor to the workers' dining hall. An elaborate pattern
of knocks on the door was answered by the scraping of a bolt. The door was opened cautiously and
Tomi was whisked inside.
"Where's Twenty-Four? Got a nice surprise for him."
"Over there, talking to the committee."
"Right. Come on, Lordling. March!"
He was pushed down the room to a table where eight slaves sat talking. Now the knife was no
longer at his throat he felt much braver. "Who is responsible for this outrage?" he spluttered, wishing his
voice were deeper and more commanding. But anyway I am a Lord, he told himself firmly, and stared at
the seated men.
The slave at the head of the table stared back at Tomi as if he were some kind of loathsome
freak. Tomi had never been stared at by any slave before, never looked at as if he were horrible. He
tried to stare boldly back, but felt his eyes wavering and his cheeks growing hot.
The man said nothing, but began to play with a knife that had been lying on the table. He held it in
his right hand and ran the fingers of his left hand along the flat of the blade. Then he flipped the knife so
that it flew into his left hand. And again. The blade caught the light each time he tossed it. Tomi couldn't
take his eyes off that flash... flash... He swallowed and prayed he wasn't going to faint. He hadn't
believed that slaves could actually hate.
"So you think this fat fledgling could be useful, Eighty-Seven? Why?"
"He's the New Lord of Bentt, that's why."
"Bentt!" The knife suddenly plunged into the table and stayed there, quivering. Tomi's knees
sagged and his captors hauled him upright, hard hands under his armpits.
Then Twenty-Four laughed. He smacked his hand on the table and pulled the knife free. "Well,
why not? It's worth a try; Eighty-Seven, though I think you overestimate the power of fatherly love. Don't
you know that ice water flows in the veins of the Lord Bentt?"
"Lets open the young 'un's veins and see if they're the same." A slave sprawled at the foot of the
table suddenly spoke.
"Fool! Hands off or we'll have nothing to bargain with. You've done well, Eighty-Seven. See the
Lordling is tied up good and tight and tucked away in a corner of the kitchen out of harm's way."
Tomi was dragged across the huge dining hall to the kitchens beyond. Here his hands were tied
behind his back-and the end of the cord looped around the leg of one of the massive kitchen tables. The
door swung shut and he was alone.
Tomi crouched against the table leg and wept. Life just wasn't fair. If they hadn't recognized him
as his father's son they would never have bothered with him. If Mother hadn't had the fanciful idea of
weaving the family crest into his new gown they wouldn't have recognized him. If those stupid workers
hadn't pushed him in the wrong direction in their panic to get home, he would be safe in the family
apartment. If...
His stomach rumbled. Not even dinner. At the thought of the great feast cooling on its dishes in