"C. L. Moore - The Cold Gray God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

it," he said. "He'll be dead asleep in half an hour if he keeps that up."
"Look again," murmured Mhici. And Smith, wondering a little at the dryness of
the old man's voice, turned his head and studied the canal-dweller more
carefully.
This time he saw what had escaped him before. The man was frightened, so
frightened that the nuari pouring in and out of his lungs was having little
effect. His restless eyes were hot with anxiety, and he had maneuvered his
back to the wall so that he could command the whole room as he drank. That in
itself, here in Mhici's place, was flagrant. Mhici's iron fist and ready gun
had established order in The Spaceman's Rest long ago, and no man in years had
dared break it. Mhici commanded not only physical but also moral respect, for
his influence with the powers of Righa was exerted not only to furnish
immunity to his guests but also to punish peace-breakers . The Spaceman's Rest
was sanctuary. No, for a man to sit with his back to the wall here bespoke
terror of something more deadly than guns.
"They're following him, you know," Mhici murmured over the rim of his glass.'
'He stole that box somewhere along the canals, and now he's afraid of his
shadow. I don't know what's in the box, but it's damn valuable to someone and
they're out to get it at any cost. Do you still want to relieve him of it?"
Smith squinted at the drylander through narrowed eyes. How old Mhici learned
the secrets he knew, no one could guess, but he had never been caught in
error. And Smith had little desire to call down upon himself the enmity of
whatever perils it was which kindled the fear of death in the canal-dweller's
eyes. Yet curiosity rode him still. The puzzle of Judai was a tantalizing
mystery which he felt he must solve.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I've got to know."
"I'll get you the box," said Mhici suddenly. "I know where he hides it, and
there's a way between here and the house next door that will let me at it in
five minutes. Wait here."
"No, "said Smith quickly. "That'snot fair to you. I'll get
it."
Mhici's wide mouth curved.
"I'm in little danger," he said. "Here in Righa no one would dare-and besides,
that way is secret. Wait."
Smith shrugged. After all, Mhici knew how to take care of himself. He sat
there gulping down segir as he waited, and watching the canal-dweller across
the room. Terror played in changing patterns across the scarred face.
When Mhici reappeared he carried a small wooden crate labeled conspicuously in
Venusian characters. Smith translated, "Six Pints Segir, Vanda Distilleries,
Ednes, Venus."
"It's in this," murmured Mhici, setting down the box. "You'd better stay here
tonight. You know, the back room that opens on the alley."
"Thanks," said Smith in some embarrassment. He was wondering why the old
drylander had taken such pains in his behalf. He had expected no more than a
few words of warning. "I'll split the money, you know."
Mhici shook his head.
"I don't think you'll get it," he said'candidly. "And I don't think she really
wants the box. Not half so much as she wants you, anyhow. There were any
number of men who
could have got the box for her. And you remember how she said she'd been