"Keith Laumer - Retief !" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

primitive harking-back to an earlier, more glorious day.
Out of a thousand First Day entrants, less than one in ten would come through to face the
Second Day. Of course, the First Day events were less lethal than those to be encountered farther
along in the three-day tourney, Retief learned; there would be few serious injuries in the course of
the opening day, and those would be largely due to clumsiness or ineptitude on the part of the
entrants.
***
There were no formal entrance requirements, Fitzraven said, other than proof of minimum
age and status in the Empire. Not all the entrants were natives of Northroyal; many came from
distant worlds, long-scattered descendants of the citizens of the shattered Lily Empire. But all
competed for the same prizes; status in the Imperial peerage, the honors of the Field of the
Emerald crown, and Imperial grants of land, wealth to the successful.
"Will you enter the First Day events, sir," Fitzraven asked, "or do you have a Second or Third
Day certification?"
"Neither," Retief said. "We'll sit on the sidelines and watch."
Fitzraven looked surprised. It had somehow not occurred to him that the old man was not to
be a combatant. And it was too late to get seats. . . .
"How . . ." Fitzraven began, after a pause.
"Don't worry," Retief said. "We'll have a place to sit."
Fitzraven fell silent, tilted his head to one side, listening. Loud voices, muffled by walls, the
thump of heavy feet.
"Something is up," Fitzraven said. "Police." He looked at Retief.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Retief said, "if they were looking for me. Let's go find out."
"We need not meet them," the squire said. "There is another way . . ."
"Never mind," Retief said. "As well now as later." He winked at Fitzraven and turned to the
door.
***
Retief stepped off the lift into the crowded common room, Fitzraven at his heels. Half a
dozen men in dark blue tunics and tall shakos moved among the patrons, staring at faces. By the
door Retief saw the thin-mouthed Ensign he had overawed at the gate. The fellow saw him at the
same moment and plucked at the sleeve of the nearest policeman, pointing.
The man dropped a hand to his belt, and at once the other policeman turned, followed his
glance to Retief. They moved toward him with one accord. Retief stood waiting.
The first cop planted himself before Retief, looking him up and down. "Your papers!" he
snapped.
Retief smiled easily. "I am a peer of the Lily and a battle officer of the Imperial forces," he
said. "On what pretext are you demanding papers of me, Captain?"
The cop raised his eyebrows.
"Let's say you are charged with unauthorized entry into the controlled area of the Grand
Corrida, and with impersonating an Imperial officer," he said. "You didn't expect to get away
with it, did you, Grandpa?" The fellow smiled sardonically.
"Under the provisions of the Code," Retief said, "the status of a peer may not be questioned,
nor his actions interfered with except by Imperial Warrant. Let me see yours, Captain. And I
suggest you assume a more courteous tone when addressing your superior officer." Retief's voice
hardened to a whip crack with the last words.
The policeman stiffened, scowled. His hand dropped to the nightstick at his belt.
 "None of your insolence, old man," he snarled. "Papers! Now!"
Retief's hand shot out, gripped the officer's hand over the stick. "Raise that stick," he said
quietly, "and I'll assuredly beat out your brains with it." He smiled calmly into the captain's
bulging eyes. The captain was a strong man. He threw every ounce of his strength into the effort