"Andre Norton - Warlock Trilogy - Storm over Warlock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

ship as he could. But to arouse the attention of inquisitive clak-claks was asking for trouble. Perhaps it
would be best to keep on along the top of the cliff, rather than risk a descent to take cover in the valley the
flyers patrolled.

A patch of dust, sheltered by a tooth-shaped projection of rock, gave the Terran his first proof that Taggi
and his mate had preceded him, for printed firmly there was the familiar paw mark of a wolverine. Shann
began to hope that both animals had taken to cover in the wilderness ahead.

He licked dry lips. Having left secretly without any emergency pack, he had no canteen, and now Shann
inventoried his scant possessionsтАФa field kit, heavy-duty clothing, a short hooded jacket with attached
mittens, the breast marked with the Survey insignia. His belt supported a sheathed stunner and bush knife,
and seam pockets held three credit tokens, a twist of wire intended to reinforce the latch of the wolverine
cage, a packet of bravo tablets, two identity and work cards, and a length of cord. No rationsтАФsave the
bravosтАФno extra charge for his stunner. But he did have, weighing down a loop on the jacket, a small
power torch.

The path he followed ended abruptly in a cliff drop, and Shann made a face at the odor rising from below,
even though that scent meant he could climb down to the valley floor here without fearing any clak-clak
attention. Chemical fumes from a mineral spring funneled against the wall, warding off any nesting in this
section.

Shann drew up the hood of his jacket and snapped the transparent face mask into place. He must get
awayтАФthen find food, water, a hiding place. That will to live which had made Shann Lantee fight
innumerable battles in the past was in command, bracing him with a stubborn determination.

The fumes swirled up in a smoke haze about his waist, but he strode on, heading for the open valley and
cleaner air. That sickly lavender vegetation bordering the spring deepened in color to the normal purple-
green, and then he was in a grove of trees, their branches pointed skyward at sharp angles to the rust-red
trunks.

A small skitterer burst from moss-spotted ground covering, giving an alarmed squeak, skimming out of
sight as suddenly as it had appeared. Shann squeezed between two trees and then paused. The trunk of the
larger was deeply scored with scratches dripping viscous gobs of sap, a sap which was a bright froth of
scarlet. Taggi had left his mark here, and not too long ago.

The soft carpet of moss showed no paw marks, but he thought he knew the goal of the animalsтАФa lake
down-valley. Shann was beginning to plan now. The Throgs had not blasted the Terran camp entirely out
of existence; they had only made sure of the death of its occupiers. Which meant they must have some use
for the installations. For the general loot of a Survey field camp would be relatively worthless to those who
picked over the treasure of entire cities elsewhere. Why? What did the Throgs want? And would the alien
invaders continue to occupy the domes for long?

Shann was still reeling from the shock of the ThrogsтАЩ ruthless attack. But from early childhood, when he
had been thrown on his own to scratch a livingтАФa borderline existence of a livingтАФon the Dumps of Tyr,
he had had to use his wits to keep life in a scrawny and undersized body. However, since he had been
eating regularly from Survey rations, he was not quite so scrawny anymore.

His formal education was close to zero, his informal and off-center schooling vast. And that particular
toughening process which had been working on him for years now aided in his speedy adaptation to a new
set of facts, formidable ones. He was alone on a strange and perhaps hostile world. Water, food, safe