"Moore, C L - Lost Paradise UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

LOST PARADISE


Across the table-top Yarol the Venusian reached a swift hand that closed on Northwest SmithТs wrist heavily. УLook! ~ he said in a low voice.
SmithТs no-colored eyes turned leisurely in the directioii of the little VenusianТs almost imperceptible nod.
The panorama that stretched out under his casual gaze would have caught at a newcomerТs breath with its very magnitude, but to Smith the sight was an old story. Their table was one of many ranged behind a rail along the edge of a parapet below which the dizzy gulf of New YorkТs steel terraces dropped away in a thousand-foot sweep to the far earth. Lacing that swooning gulf of emptiness the steel spans of the traffic bridges arched fmm building to building, a swarm with New YorkТs countless hordes. Men from the thnie planets, wanderers and space-rangers and queer, brutish things that were not wholly human mingled with the throngs of Earth as they streamed endlessly over the great, steel bridges spanning the gulfs of New York. From the high parapet table where Smith and Yarol sat one could watch the solar system go by, world upon world over the arches that
descended.by tiers and terraces into the perpetual darkness. and twinkling, far-off lights of the deeps where solid earth lay hidden. In mighty swoops and arcs they latticed the void yawning below the parapet on which Yarol leaned a negligent elbow and stared.
SmithТs pale eyes, following that stare, saw only the usual crowd of pedestrians swarming across the steel span of the bridge a story below.
УSee?Ф murmured Yarol. УThat little fellow in the red leather coat. The white-haired one, walking slow at the edge
oftherail. See?Ф -
УUrn-rn.Ф Smith made a non-commital noise in his throat as he found the object of Yarol Сs interest. It was an odd-
Х looking specimen of humanity That loitered slowly along in the outer edges of the crowd surging across the bridge. His red coat was belted about a body whose extreme fragility was
Х apparent even at this elevation; though from what Smith could see of his foreshortened figure he did not seem like one in ill health. On his uncovered head the hair grew silky and silvery, and under one arm he clutched a squarish package which he was careful, Smith noticed, to keep on the railing side, away from the p~ssmg crowd.
УIТll bet you the next drinks,Ф murmured Yarol, his wise black eyes twinkling under long lashes, Уthat you canТt guess what race that little fellowТs from, or where it originated.Ф
УThe next drinks are on me anyhow,Ф grinned Smith. УNo I canТt guess. Does it matter?Ф
УOhЧcurious, thatТs, all. IТve seen a member of that race only once before in my life, and IТll bet you never saw one. And yet itТs an Earth race, perhaps the very oldest. Did you ever hear of the Seles?Ф
Smith shook his head silently, his eyes on the little figure below, which was slowly drawing out of sight.beneath the overhang of the terrace on which they sat.
УThey live somewhere in the remotest part of Asia, no one knows exactly where. But theyТre not Mongolian. ItТs a pure race, and one that has no counterpart anywhere in the solar
system that I ever heard of. I think, even among themselves their origin has been forgotten, though their legends go back so far it makes you dizzy to think of it. TheyТre queerlooking, all white-haired and fragile as glass. Keep very much to themselves, of course. When one ventures out into the worki you can be sure itТs for some tremendously important reason. Wonder why that fellowЧ.-oh well, not that it matters. Only seeing him reminded me of the queer story thatТs told about them. They have a Secret. No, donТt laugh; itТs supposed to be something very strange and wonderful, which their race life is dedicated to keeping quiet. IТd give a lot to know what it is, just for curiosityТs sake.Ф
УNone of your business, my boy,Ф said Smith sleepily.
- УLike as not itТs better for you that you donТt know. These secrets have a way of being uncomfortable things to know.Ф
УNo such luck,Ф Yarol shrugged. УLetТs have another drinkЧon you, rememberЧand forget it.Ф
He lifted a finger to summon the hurrying waiter.
But the summons was never given. For just then, around the corner of the railing which separated the little enclosure of tables from the street running along the edge of the terrace came a flash of red that caught YarolТs eye abruptly. It was the little white-haired man, hugging his squarish parcel and walking timorously, as if he were not accustomed to thronged streets and terraces a thousand feet high in steel-shimmering air.
And at the moment Yarol Сs eye caught him, something happened. A man in a dirty brown uniform, whose defaced insignia was indecipherable pushed forward and jostled the red-coated stroller roughly. The little man gave a squeak of alarm and clutched frantically at his parcel, but too late. The jostling had knocked it almost out from under his arm, and before he could recover his grip the burly assailant had seized it and shouldered quickly away through the crowd.
Stark terror was livid on the little manТs face as he stared wildly around. And in the first desperate glance his eyes encountered the two men at the table watching him with
absorbing interest.ТAcross the rail his gaze met theirs in a passion of entreaty. There was something about the attitude of them, their worn spacemanТs leather and faces stamped with the indefinable ieal of lives lived dangerously, which must have, told him in that desperate glimpse that perhaps help lay here. ~e gripped the rail, white-knuckled, and gasped across it,
УFollow him! Get it backЧrewardЧЧoh, hurry!Ф
УHow much of a reward?Ф demanded Yarol with sudden purpose in his voice.
УAnythingЧyour own priceЧonly hurry!Ф
УYou swear that?Ф
The little manТs face was suffusing with anguished scarlet. УI swear itЧof course I swear it! But hurry! Hurry, or youТllЧФ
УDo you swear it byЧФ Yarol hesitated and cast a curiously guilty glance-over his shoulder at Smith. Then he rose and leaned across the rail, whispering something in the strangerТs ear. Smith saw a look of intense terror sweep across the flushed face. In its wake the crimson drained slowly away, leaving the manТs moon-white features blank with an emotion to which Smith could put no name. But he nodded frantically. In a voice that had strained itself to a hoarse and gasping whisper he said,
УYes, I swear. No.v go!Ф
With no further words Yarol vaulted the rail and plunged into the crowd in the wake of the vanishing thief. The little man stared after him for an instant, then came slowly around to the gate in the railing and threaded the empty tables to SmithТs. He sank into the chair Yarol had left and buried his silkily silver head in hands that shook.
Smith regarded him impassively. He was somewhat surprised to see that it was not an old man who sat here opposite him. The mark of no more than middle years lay upon the anxiety-ravaged face, and the hands which were clenched
Х above the bowed head were strong and firm,. with a queerly
Х fragile slenderness that somehow did not belie the sense of
indwelling strength which he had noticed in his first glance. It wa~ not, thought Smith, an individual slenderness, but, as Yarol had said, a racial trait that made the man look as if a blow would break him into fragments. And the race, had he not known better, he would have sworn dwelt upon some-, smaller planet than Earth, some world of lesser gravity where such delicate bone-structure as this would have purpo~e.
After a while the strangerТs head rose slowly and he scared at Smith with haggard eyes. They were a queer color, those eyesЧdark, soft, veiled in a sort of filmed translucency so that they seemed never to dwell directly upon anything. They gave the whole face a look of withdrawn, introspective peace wildly at odds now with the anguish of unrest upon the
delicate features of the man. Ч
HeТ was scrutinizing Smith, the depseration in his eyes robbing the long stare of any inipertinence~ With averted eyes Smith let him look. Twice he was aware that the otherТs lips had parted and his breath caught as if for speech; but he must have seen something in that dark, impassive face across the table, scarred with the tale of many battles, cold-eyes, emotionless, which made him think better of attempting questions. So he sat there silently, hands twisting on the table, naked anguish in his eyes, waiting.
The minutes went by slowly. It must have been all of a quarter of an hour before Smith heard a step behind him and knew by the light which dazzled across the face of the man opposite that Yarol had returned. The little Venusian pulled up a chair and sank into it silently, grinning and laying on the table a flat, squansh package.
The stranger pounced upon it with a little, inarticulate cry, running anxious hands over the brown paper in which it was wrapped, testing the brown seals which splotched the %ide where the edges of the covering came together. Satisfied then, he turned to Yarol. The wild desperation had died upon his face now, magically allowing itto fall into lines of a vast tranquility. Smith thought he had never seen a face so suddenly and serenely at peace. And yet there was in its peace-
fulness a queer sort of resignation, as if something lay ahead of him which he accepted without a struggle; as if, perhaps, he was prepared to pay whatever tremendous price Yarol asked, and knew it would be high.
УWhat is it,Ф he asked Yarol in a gentle voice, Уthat you wish as your reward?Ф
УTell me the Secret,Ф said Yarol boldly. He was grinning as be said it. The rescue of the package had not been a task of any great difficulty for a man of his knowledge and character. How he had accomplished it not even Smith knewЧthe ways of Venusians are strangeЧbut he had had no doubt that Yarol would succeed. He was not looking now at the Venusian Сs fair, cherubic face with its wise black eyes dancing. He was watching the stranger, and he saw no surprise upon the manТs delicate features, only a little flash of quickly darkened brightness behind the veiled eyes, a little spasm of pain and acknowledgment twisting his face for a moment.
УI might have known that,Ф he said quietly, in his soft, low voice that held a taint of some alien inflection of speech beneath its careful English. УHave you any conception of what it is you asic?Ф
УA little.Ф YarolТs voice was sobering under the graveness of the otherТs toi!Аs. УIЧI knew one of your race onceЧone of the SelesЧand learned just enough to make me want very badly the ~hole Secret.Ф
УYou learnedХЧa name, too,Ф said the little man gently. УAnd I swore by it to give you what youТasked. I shall give it to you. But you must understand that I would never have given that oath had even so vital a thing as my own life depended upon it. I, or any of the Seles, would die before swearing by that name in a cause less great thanЧthan the one ╢or which I swore. By thatФЧhe smiled faintlyЧТ Сyou may guess how precious a thing this package is. Are you sure, are you very sure you wish to know our secret?Ф