"C. L. Moore - Shambleau" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)come in from Venus. Have you eaten?"
"Yes," said the girl quickly. "I shill-need no-food for -a while." "Well-" Smith glanced around the room. "I'll be in some-time tonight. You can go or stay just as you please. Eetter lock the door behind me." With no more formality than that he left her. The door closed and he heard the key turn. and smiled to himself. He did not expect, then, ever to see her again. , He went down the steps and out into the late-slanting sunlight with a mind so full of other file:///F|/rah/C.%20L.%20Moore/Moore,%20C.%20L%20-%20Shambleau.txt (4 of 50) [1/21/03 10:26:01 PM] file:///F|/rah/C.%20L.%20Moore/Moore,%20C.%20L%20-%20Shambleau.txt matters that the brown girl receded very quickly into the background. Smith's errand in Lakkdarol, like most of his errands, is better not spoken of. Man lives as he must, and Smitli's living was a perilous affair outside the law and ruled by the ray-gun only. It is enough to say that the shipping-port and its cargoes outbound interested him deeply just now, and that the friend he awaited was Yarol the Venusian, in that swift little Edsel ship the Maid that can flash from world to world with a derisive speed that laughs at Patrol boats and leaves pursuers floundering in the ether far behind. Smith and Yarol and the Maid were a trinity that had caused the Patrol leaders much worry and many gray hairs in the past, and the future looked very bright to Smith himself that evening as he left his lodging-house. Lakkdarol roars by night, as Earthmen's camp-towns have a way of doing on every planet where toward the center of town. His busi-ness there does not concern us. He mingled with the crowds where the lights were brightest, and there was the click of ivory counters and the jingle of silver, and red segir gurgled invitingly from black Venusian bottles, and much later Smith strolled homeward under the moving moons of Mars, and if the street wavered a little under his feet now and then-why, that is only understandable. Not even Smith could drink red segir at every bar from the Martian Lamb to the New Chicago and remain entirely steady on his feet. But he found his way back with very little difficulty-con-sidering-and spent a good five minutes hunting for his key before he remembered he had left it in the inner lock for the girl. He knocked then, and there was no sound of footsteps from within, but in a few moments the latch clicked and the door swung open. She retreated soundlessly before him as he entered, and took up her favorite place against the window, leaning back on the ' sill and outlined against the starry sky beyond. The room was in darkness. Smith flipped the switch by the door and then leaned back against the panels, steadying himself. The cool night air had sobered him a little, and his head was clear enough-liquor went to Smith's feet, not his head, or he would never have come this far along the lawless way he had chosen.He lounged against the door now and regarded the girl in the sudden glare of the bulbs, blinking a little as much at the scarlet of her clothing as at, the light. "So you stayed," he said. "I-waited," she answered softly, leaning farther back against the sill and clasping the rough wood with slim, three-fingered hands, pale brown against the darkness. 'Why ?91 |
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