"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 02 - Saber and Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

the Kommanza's back ... and felt the fool. The weapon in her hands lay heavy,
metal and smooth-worn wood, a means of death. Then a snide thought. What, does
she expect me to shoot her in the back? People don't M just for no reason....
Well, a symbolic gesture. A bond. So be it.

"I see. I don't think it's magical." She opened her mouth, then stopped. No,
Shkai'ra needn't know everything, yet. Decision made, she continued, "You
broke that door last night because you thought I needed help. I owe you a
debt." and Jaipahl never got around to telling me how Fehinnans acknowledge
obligation. She laid the shotpistol down on tile desk.

"My knife is yours," she said, holding the blade out on the palm of her hand.
If she takes it, III steal another. Shkai'ra blinked, her people's expression
of surprise; that was a ritual they used for deep trust.

Ah, well, she thought, taking it up. She flipped it in a circle and caught the
hilt. Nice piece of steel, she thought.

"Thank you," she said. "But you'll need one." She offered one of her own, a
narrow stabbing poniard.
Megan looked at it and up into grey eyes. "If I took that, to my people, it
would mean that I accepted you as kin, in a way. What does it mean to your

The hand holding the poniard didn't move though Shkai'ra smiled. "It basically
means you'll fight for me if I need you; and I for you, of course. Not that we
Kommanza need much reason to fight. ..."

Megan nodded and took the knife. "All right." What are you doing, woman? she
asked herself. You can't get committed to anyone here. You have to get home
before Habiku ruins your fish-gutted household.

She examined the ten-inch knife. The weight of it was less than the emotions
it carried. She laughed suddenly, her eyes crinkling at the comers, at
Shkai'ra s expression. "How like our tools we are. Celik Kizkardaz, there is
Steel between us." There was silence, then she stood suddenly. "So, show me
this city that they are so proud of. Walking the streets as a
zhaaid-Shaaid?-What does that mean?-is not the best way to see the sights. I
got called that enough to fill me to the back teeth last night."

Shkai'ra turned Megan's giftblade in her hands; it was a pleasure to handle
something so well made.

"Shaaid?" she said absently. "Maggot. The poorest, dockworkers, day laborers.
Escaped tenants, beggars, children born without kinfast. No money, skill, or
lord: a million heads in this brick warren, and two-thirds are shaaid. They
die by the thousand down in Low Town; more come in every day, to find the
silver bricks of Illizbuah's streets.'

"Better to be a ... gaaimun, is that the word?" They laughed and walked out
into the brightness of hallway.