"Edgar Pangborn - A Mirror for Observers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pangborn Edgar)

"Going up and down in the world. I've become quite a wizard at disguise. If I hadn't long
ago used up my scent-destroyer your Kajna could never have eavesdropped on my talk
with the Pontevecchio boy."

"The law of 27,140 provides that no assistance can be given to Abdicators by Salvayans
of the Cities."

"Why, Drozma, I wasn't hinting that I wanted scent-destroyer. I don't find it hard to
avoid horses, they're so scarce nowadays. Odd how no other animal seems to mind the
Martian scent тАФ Salvayan: you prefer the antique word even in talking English? Must
have been tough in the ancient days before the destroyer was invented. But since human
animals can't catch the scent, I don't need the stuff, except to help me avoid your sniffier
Observers. . . . The smart thing, five or six thousand years ago, would have been to
develop an equine epidemic, get rid of the damned beasts."

Drozma winced in disgust. "I begin to see why you resigned. In all your life I think you
never learned that patience is the well-spring."

"Patience is a narcotic for the weak. I have enough for my needs."

"If you had enough you'd cure yourself of resentments. Let's not argue it: our minds
don't meet. Again, why have you come here?"

Namir flicked ash on the mosaic of the floor. "I wanted to find out if you still imagine
human beings can ever amount to anything."

"We do."

"I see. Even after losing City of Oceans тАФ or so I heard."

"Namir, we do not talk about City of Oceans. Call it a taboo, or just a courtesy to me. . .
. What did you ever hope to achieve by resigning?"

"Achieve? Oh, Drozma! Well, perhaps a spectator's pleasure. The interest of watching the
poor things weave a rope for their own hanging."

"No, I don't think that was it. That wouldn't have turned you against us."

"I'm not against you particularly," said Namir, and pursued his original thought: "I
thought they had that rope in 30,945, but there they are, still unhanged."

"Tired of waiting?"

"Ye-es. But if I don't live to see their finish, my son will."

"A son. . . . Who is your Salvayan wife, may I know?"

"Was, Drozma. She died forty-two years ago, giving birth. She was Ajona, who resigned
in 30,790 but continued to suffer from idealism until I effected a partial cure. The boy's