"C. L. Moore - Shambleau" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

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Shambleau

MAN has conquered space before. You may be sure of that. Somewhere beyond the Egyptians, in that
dimness out of which come echoes of half-mythical names-Atlantis, Mu -somewhere back of history's
first beginnings there must have been an age when mankind, like us today, built cities of steel to
house its star-roving ships and knew the names of the planets in their own native tongues-heard
Venus' people call their wet world "Sha-ardol" in that soft, sweet, slurring speech and mimicked
Mars' guttural "Lakkdiz." from the harsh tongues of Mars' dry-land dwellers. You may be sure of
it. Man has conquered Space before, and out of that conquest faint, faint echoes run still
through a world that has forgotten the very fact of a civilization which must have been as mighty
as our own. There have been too many myths and legends for us to doubt it. The myth of the
Medusa, for instance, can never have had its roots in the soil of Earth. That tale of the snake-
haired Gorgon whose gaze turned the gazer to stone never originated about any creature that Earth
nourished. And those ancient Greeks who told the story must have remembered, dimly and half
believing, a tale of antiquity about some strange being from one of the outlying planets their
remotest ancestors once trod.




SHAMBLEAU

"Shambleau! Ha ... Shambleau!" The wild hysteria of the mob rocketed from wall to wall of
Lakkdarol's narrow streets and the storming of heavy boots over the slag-red pavement made an
ominous undernote to that swelling bay, "Shambleau! Shambleau!"
Northwest Smith heard it coming and stepped into the nearest doorway, laying a wary hand on his
heat-gun's grip, and his colorless eyes narrowed. Strange sounds were com-mon enough in the
streets of Earth's latest colony on Mars -a raw, red little town where anything might happen, and
very often did. But Northwest Smith, whose name is known and respected in every dive and wild
outpost on a dozen wild planets, was a cautious man, despite his reputation. He set his back
against the wall and gripped his pistol, and heard the rising shout come nearer and nearer.
Then into his range of vision flashed a red running figure, dodging like a hunted hare from
shelter to shelter in the narrow street. It was a girl-a berry-brown girl in a single tattered
garment whose scarlet burnt the eyes with its bril-liance. She ran wearily, and he could hear her
gasping breath from where he stood. As she came into view he saw her hesi-tate and lean one hand
against the wall for support, and glance wildly around for shelter. She must not have seen him in
the depths of the doorway, for as the bay of the mob grew louder and the pounding of feet sounded
almost at the corner she gave a despairing little moan and dodged into the recess at his very
side.
When she saw him standing there, tall and leather-brown, hand on his heat-gun, she sobbed once,
inarticulately, and collapsed at his feet, a huddle of burning scarlet and bare, brown limbs.

Smith had not seen her face, but she was a girl, and sweetly made and in danger; and though he had
not the re-putation of a chivalrous man, something in her hopeless huddle at his feet touched that
chord of sympathy for the underdog that stirs in every Earthman, and he pushed her gently- into
the corner behind him and jerked out his gun, just as the first of the running mob rounded the
corner.
It was a motley crowd, Earthmen and Martians and a sprinkling of Venusian swamp men and strange,