"Norton, Andre - Flight in Yiktor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

female, who spoke now. Beside the fairness of her compan-
ion she was a fire glowing--hair as red as one of Russtifs oil
lamps was braided and looped about her head to look like a
heavy crown. She was--

The small body uncoiled. Claw hands went out to the big
basket and drew the hunched body up as far as nature would
let it. For it was a very crooked body, hunched forward by a
misshapen burden at shoulder level, so that the head had to
be raised to an uncomfortable angle to see the other two at
all.

Arms and legs were thin, their greenish skin encrusted
with dirt. The mass of uncombed hair was black, gray with
dust at places, but black underneath.

"A child." It was the spaceman who said that aloud.
"What--"

The woman made a gesture with one hand. There was a
listening look about her. Could she hear Toggor, too?

"This one, yes," she said. "But also another. Is that not
so, little one?"

The answer was pulled out by the intent gaze of her
eyes--coming before thought muffled it with caution.

"He--Russtif--he would make Toggor play. It is cold--
too cold. Toggor hurts from the cold--from the pain whip."

"So?"

She stooped to set a hand beneath the chin of the small,



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bent and maimed figure. From her touch, from the tips of her

4 Andre Norton

fingers, something warm and good flooded right into the

shaking body.

"Toggor is what?"
"My--my friend." That was not quite the way of it either,