"Andre Norton - Moon Singer 2 - Exiles of the Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

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Exiles of the Stars by Andre Norton
Chapter One
KRIP VORLUND
There was an odd haze in the room, or was it my eyes? I cupped my hands over them for a moment as I
wondered, not only about trusting in my sight, but about this whole situation. For the haze might be the
visible emanation of that emotion anyone with the slightest esper talent could pick up clearlyтАФthe acrid
taste, touch, smell, of fear. Not our own fear, but that of the city which pulsed around us like the uneven
breathing of a great terrified animal.

Sensing that, I wanted to run out of the room, the building, beyond the city walls to such security as the
Lydis had to offer, where the shell of the Free Trader which was my home could shut out that aura of a
fear fast approaching panic. Yet I sat where I was, forced my hands to lie quietly across my knees as I
watched those in the room with me, listened to the clicking speech of the men of Kartum on the planet
Thoth.

There were four of them. Two were priests, both past middle life, both of high standing by the richness of
their deep-violet over-mantles, which they had not put aside even though the room was far too warm.
The dark skin of their faces, shaven heads, and gesturing hands was lightened with designs in ceremonial
yellow paint. Each fingernail was covered with a claw-shaped metal sheath set with tiny gems, which
winked and blinked even in this subdued lighting as their fingers, flickering in and out, drew symbols in the
air as if they could not carry on any serious conversation without the constant invocation of their god.

Their companions were officials of the ruler of Kartum, as close to him, they averred in the speech of
Thoth, as the hairs of his ceremonial royal beard. They sat across the table from our captain, Urban Foss,
seemingly willing enough to let the priests do the talking. But their hands were never far from weapon
butts, as if they expected at any moment to see the door burst open, the enemy in upon us.

There were three of us from the LydisтАФCaptain Foss, cargomaster Juhel Lidj, and me, Krip Vorlund,
the least of that companyтАФFree Traders, born to space and the freedom of the starways as are all our
kind. We have been rovers for so long that we have perhaps mutated into a new breed of humankind.
Nothing to us, these planet intriguesтАФnot unless we were entrapped in them. And that did not happen
often. Experience, a grim teacher, had made us very wary of the politics of the planet-born.

ThreeтАФno, we were four. I dropped a hand now and my fingers touched a stiff brush of upstanding hair.
I did not have to glance down to know whatтАФ whoтАФsat up on her haunches beside my chair, feeling,
sensing even more strongly than I the unease of spirit, the creeping menace which darkened about us.

Outwardly there was a glassia of Yiktor there, black-furred except for the tuft of coarse, stiffened
gray-white bristles on the crown of the head, with a slender tail as long again as the body, and large paws
with sheathed, dagger-sharp claws. Yet appearances were deceiving. For the animal body housed
another spirit. This was truly MaelenтАФshe once a Moon Singer of the ThassaтАФwho had been given this
outer shape when her own body was broken and dying, then was condemned by her own people to its