"George R. R. Martin - With Morning Comes Mistfall (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

he continued. "Eternal war between the sun and the mists. And the mists have
the better of it. They have the valleys, and the plains, and the seacoasts.
The sun has only a few mountaintops. And them only by day."
He turned to the robowaiter and ordered coffee for both of us, to keep
us occupied until the others arrived. It would be fresh brewed, of course.
Sanders didn't tolerate instants or synthetics on his planet.
"You like it here," I said, while we waited for the coffee.
Sanders laughed. "What's not to like? Castle Cloud has everything. Good
food, entertainment, gambling, and all the other comforts of home. Plus this
planet. I've got the best of both worlds, don't I?"
 "I suppose so. But most people don't think in those terms. Nobody comes
to Wraithworld for the gambling, or the food."
Sanders nodded. "But we do get some hunters. Out after rock cats and
plains devils. And once in a while someone will come to look at the ruins."
"Maybe," I said. "But those are your exceptions. Not your rule. Most of
your guests are here for one reason."
"Sure," he admitted, grinning. "The wraiths."
"The wraiths," I echoed. "You've got beauty here, and hunting and
fishing and mountaineering. But none
of that brings the tourists here. It's the wraiths they came for."
The coffee arrived then, two big steaming mugs accompanied by a pitcher
of thick cream. It was very strong, and very hot, and very good. After weeks
of spaceship synthetic, it was an awakening.
Sanders sipped at his coffee with care, his eyes studying me over the
mug. He set it down thoughtfully. "And it's the wraiths you've come for, too,"
he said.
I shrugged. "Of course. My readers aren't interested in scenery, no
matter how spectacular. Dubowski and his men are here to find wraiths, and I'm
here to cover the search."
Sanders was about to answer, but he never got the chance. A sharp,
precise voice cut in suddenly. "If there are any wraiths to find," the voice
said.
We turned to face the balcony entrance. Dr. Charles Dubowski, head of
the Wraithworld Research Team, was standing in the doorway, squinting at the
light. He had managed to shake the gaggle of research assistants who usually
trailed him everywhere.
Dubowski paused for a second, then walked over to our table, pulled out
a chair, and sat down. The robowaiter came rolling out again.

Sanders eyed the thin scientist with unconcealed dis-
taste. "What makes you think the wraiths aren't there,
Doctor?" he asked.


_
Dubowski shrugged, and smiled lightly. "I just don't feel there's enough
evidence," he said. "But don't worry. I never let my feelings interfere with
my work. I want the truth as much as anyone. So I'll run an impartial
expedition. If your wraiths are out there, I'll find them."
"Or they'll find you," Sanders said. He looked grave. "And that might