"C M Kornbluth - That Share Of Glory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

The trader's howl of rage echoed in the dome of the huge room. "It's not fair!" he roared. "Who but you
thievish villains with your Order and your catch-'em-young and your years of training can learn the
tongues of the galaxy? What chance has a decent merchant busy with profit and loss got to learn the cant
of every race between Sinus and the Coalsack? It's not fair! It's not fair and I'll say so until my dying
breath!"



"Die outside if you find our terms unacceptable," said the Rector. "The Order does not haggle."



"Well I know it," sighed the trader brokenly. "I should have stuck to my own system and my good
father's pump-flange factory. But no! I had to pick up a bargain in gems on Vego! Enough of
thisтАФbring'me your contract and I'll sign it."



The Rector's shaggy eyebrows went up. "There is no contract," he said. "A mutual trust between Herald
and trader is the cornerstone upon which cosmos-wide amity and understanding will be built."
"At twenty-five per cent for an unlicked pup," muttered blackbeard to himself hi Cephean.



None of his instructors had played Polonius as Alen, with the seal of the Journeyman-Herald on his
brow, packed for blastoff and vacated his cell. He supposed they knew that twenty years of training
either had done their work or had not.



The trader taking Alen to the field where his ship waited, was less wise. "The secret of successful
negotiation," he weightily told his Herald, "is to yield willingly. This may strike you as a paradox, but it is
the veritable key to my success in maintaining the profits of my good father's pump-flange trade. The
secret is to yield with rueful admiration of your* opponentтАФbut only in unimportant details. Put up a little
battle about delivery date or about terms of credit and then let him have his way. But you never give way
a hair's breadth on your asking price unlessтАФ"



Alen let him drivel on as they drove through the outer works of the College. He was glad the car was
open. For the first time he was being accorded the doffed hat that is the due of Heralds from their
inferiors in the Order, and the grave nod of salutation from equals. Five-year-old postulants seeing his
brow-seal tugged off their headgear with comical celerity; fellow-novices, equals a few hours before,
uncovered as though he were the Rector himself.



The ceremonial began to reach the trader. When, with a final salutation, a lay warder let them through
the great gate of the curtain wall, he said with some irritation: "They appear to hold you in high regard,
boy."