"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 03 - The Cage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

The Zak sighed and crooked a finger. "The pen you've just
sharpened will do nicely." The clerk found himself handing it to
her. She snagged a scrap of paper out of the stack by his elbow,
ignoring his yip of, "That's expensive!", and wrote. She turned
the page around and pushed it across the desk so he could read
the words "Megan Whitlock, F'talezon, Owner Slaf Hikarme."

The collar of his mercantile robe seemed a bit tight, the room
too warm, even though he hadn't put a fresh scoopful of
blackrock on the stove in an hour. He took a deep breath. "Teik,"
he said, drawing strength from his position. "You must
understand that anyone could fake a signature. I'm sorry, Head
Clerk Vhsant is busy. I'm just doing my job." There hadn't been
someone claiming to be Whitlock for more than a year. The
owner was presumed, though not officially declared, dead.

The Zak looked back at her companion. "Even after he's seen
my signature, this officious person is telling me I can't walk into
my own office, Shkai'ra."

Now the one leaning against the lacquered inner door, that
one was unusual. Tall and fair-haired; well, a Thane or Aenir
might be soтАж but no folk he knew had quite that cast of feature,
slanted grey eyes over high cheeks, scimitar blade of nose with a
tiny gold ring through one nostril, pointed chin and wide,
thin-lipped mouth; and she was smiling at him.

Teeth and eyes pale against dark-tanned skin; not much more
than the mid-twenties of her Zak companion. Worn horse-hide
jacket and chamois pants, worn bone plaques on the long hilt of
her saber. One hand rested on the brass eagle-head pommel of
the sword, the other hooked a thumb through her belt;
thick-wristed hands, long fingers, thin white scars on the backs.
She was smiling and resting completely relaxed, ignoring the
two guards with their weighted staffs.

The blonde woman spoke. "You do him, Megan, or I?"
Guttural accent, staccato. Brahvniki was not a well-policed city,
and the Watch might be a while in arriving.

The Zak leaned forward and tapped on the wood with a
clawed finger. "You probably don't remember working for me,
TeikтАФYareslav? You were only an underclerk then, but you
might recognize me if you think very hard. Don't make stupid
decisions on your own. I suggest that you call Vhsant
Cormarenc. " She was using the Head Clerks old use-name,
before the owner's proxy, Habiku, had elevated him to the
position. She knew names. MaybeтАж Great Bear, the Zak does
look uncannily likeтАж No. The owner was dead. The two guards,