"Andre Norton - Dipple 2 - Janus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

drinking in avidly all the wonders of a trade meeting . . . these he could remember. Then confusion--fear,
which formed a cold lump in a small stomach, a sour taste in throat and mouth--lying in the cramped
berth space of an escape boat with warm arms about him--the shock of the thrust-away from the ship
that had always been his home--the period of drift while a mechanical signal broadcast their plight--the
coming of the cruiser to pick them up as the only survivors. Afterwards--the Dipple--for years and
years and years--always the Dipple!
But there had been hope that the war would end soon, that when he was big enough, old enough,
strong enough, he could sign on a Free Trader, or that they would somehow find credit deposits owed to
Duan Renfro and buy passage back to Mehetia. Wild dreams both those hopes had been. The dull, dusty
years had wasted them, shown them to be flimsy shadows. There was only the Dipple, and that would go
on forever--from it there was no escape. Or, if there was for him, not for her--now.
Naill wanted to cover his ears as well as close his eyes. He could shut out the grayness of the Dipple;
he could not shut out now that weary little plaint, half croon, half moan, sounding monotonously from the
bed against the far wall. He swung away from the window and came to stand at the side of the bed,
forcing himself to look at the woman who lay there.
She--she was nothing but a frail wraith of skin and bones, not Malani.
Naill wanted to beat his fists against the gray wall, to cry out his hurt and rage--yes, and fear--as
might a small child. It was choking him. If he could only gather her up, run away from this place of
unending harsh light, cold grayness. It had killed Malani, as much as Duan Renfro's death. The ugliness
and the hopelessness of the Dipple had withered her.
But instead of giving way to the storm within him, Naill knelt beside the bed, caught those restless,
ever-weaving hands in his own, bringing their chill flesh against his thin cheeks.
"Malani--" He called her name softly, hoping against all hope that this time she would respond, know
him. Or was it far more kind not to draw her back? Draw her back--Naill sucked in his breath--there
was a way for Malani to escape! If he were just sure, overwhelmingly sure that no other road existed . .
.
Gently he put down her hands, pulled the covering up about her shoulders. Once sure . . . He
nodded sharply, though Malani could not see that gesture of sudden decision. Then he went swiftly to the
door. Three strides down the corridor and he was rapping on another door.
"Oh--it's you, boy!" The impatient frown on the woman's broad face smoothed. "She's worse?"
"I don't know. She won't eat, and the medico . . ."
The woman's lips shaped a word she did not say. "He's said she ain't got a chance?"
"Yes."
"For once he's right. She don't want any chance--you gotta face that, boy."
What else had he been doing for the past weeks! Naill's hands were fists against his sides as he
fought down a hot response to that roughly kind truth.
"Yes," he returned flatly. "I want to know--how soon . . . ?"
The woman swept back a loose lock of hair, her eyes grew suddenly bright and hard, locking fast to
his in an unasked question. Her tongue showed between her lips, moistened them.
"All right." She closed the door of her own quarters firmly behind her. "All right," she repeated as if
assuring herself in some way.
But when she stood beside Malani, she was concerned, her hands careful, even tender. Then she
once more drew up the covers, looked to Naill.
"Two days--maybe a little more. If you do it--where's the credits coming from?"
"I'll get them!"
"She--she wouldn't want it that way, boy."
"She'll have it!" He caught up his over-tunic. "You'll stay until I come back?"
The woman nodded. "Stowar is the best. He deals fair--never cuts . . ."
"I know!" Naill's impatience made that answer almost explosive.
He hurried down the corridor, the four flights of stairs, out into the open. It was close to midday,