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

but they were the closest words could be found.

There was a hiss of breath from the man; the woman's lips
fitted tightly together. She was angry--not like Russtif, all
noise and quick to aim a blow--but neither was her anger

turned toward the one before her.

"We may have found what we seek." She spoke above

the bowed head to her companion. "And who are you?"

Again warmth flowed from her.

"The Dung one." Long ago had that name of the lowest

been accepted. There was no other. "I run errands. I do what
I can." A pride which was seldom felt made shoulders hunch

a little higher.

"For Russtif?" The man indicated the tent behind.

Dung shook his head. "Russtif has Jusas and Sem."

"Yet you are here."
"It is Toggor. I--I bring him--" The claw hand rumbled

in the front of the single ragged garment. Once more truth
was pulled forth by that warmth of the other. "I bring this."
He held an unwholesome-looking lump of stuff. "Russtif
does not feed Toggor enough. He wants him to fight for
food. Toggor will die"--the sharply pointed chin quivered

--"there!"

They could all hear the crackle of the prod and a rising

mutter of obscenities from beyond the tent wall.

"Toggor fights and they bet on him. Russtif never had so

good a clawed one before."

"So," the man said, "let us see this fighter, Maelen. Also

Russtif. He interests me."
The woman nodded. She dropped her hand from beneath