"Joel Rosenberg - Hour of the Octopus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenberg Joel C)

Me, I prefer rooming houses, where what one eats de-pends more on what one can pay than upon
the status of the buttocks against which one's mother once drummed her heels.
The ham was edible, although it could have stood a proper soaking; then again, perhaps salted ham
with salt is a taste I've simply not acquired. I left it on my plate. The apple wasn't bad, just a bit mealy
around the edges. But the bread was good and solid and still warm, and the but-ter was cold and smooth
and rich and creamy, and that would doтАФfor the time being. Wheedling a snack out of a cook is a skill
that I'd picked up many years before.
"You don't seem excited by the idea of hunting, Kami Dan'Shir," Arefai said. "And on such a fine
day."
"Hunting is a noble pursuit, Lord," I said. You know, like pronging away at unwilling peasant girls
. I probably felt more adventurous than I should, but perhaps I was flushed with my victory over Crosta
Natthan. I went on: "Perhaps if I was raised to the nobility, Lord Arefai, I'd feel differently."
 "You've been a bourgeois how long?"
"Almost a month, lord."
He chuckled. "I think perhaps you might consider wait-ing some years before broaching the matter to
my father; he has no sense of humor." He tapped himself lightly on the chest. "I, on the other hand, do.
You have dined with me; you will now hunt with me."
One of the guards started, stilled instantly by a glare from the more senior.
Arefai took a final sip of tea and tossed his eating sticks aside; with a quick, beckoning flick of his
fingers, he rose, not waiting to see if I was following.
We headed out of the garden, and down the path into a fine day. Two pairs of bodyguards walked in
front of us, while the trio behind us kept up a marching song, the bari-tone taking up the verse and
melody, the tenor gracing the end of each phrase with a high harmony that soared above like a bird, while
the bass sang a slow countermelody that still managed to keep perfect time.
"A perfect day for a hunt, eh, Kami Dan'Shir?" Arefai gestured with a vague but possessive wave.
Nobles own the day, it seemed.
Again, I agreed with him. "Of course."
He eyed me carefully; the implied reproach in the short answer hadn't escaped him.
Smiling agreeably, I ignored his look, or at least tried to look like I was ignoring his look.
I had to be careful around Arefai; since he was in some contexts such a pleasant dolt, it was
important for me to remind myself that he was a blooded warrior, and worldly in the ways of statement
and understatement, the form of
speech called shtoi in Old Shai. It's never been safe to dis-agree with members of our beloved ruling
class, even if you're a member of our beloved ruling class, and an al-most formal mode of overstatement
and understatement had grown up, passed on with indirectness from parent to child, from husband to
wife and wife to husband, becom-ing more indirect, more ambiguous, and less precise as time went on,
because directness, clarity, and precision could lead to trouble.
Trouble in D'Shai is often fatal.
"You seem to lack someтАж enthusiasm, Kami Dan'Shir," he said.
I had been hoping he would let it drop. I would have been happy to.
"Not at all, Lord Arefai," I said. "I'm honored that you would give me such aтАФ" I put in the slightest
of hesita-tions, just a moment of robbed time "тАФunique opportu-nity."
"You've never hunted?"
I weighed the odds, and decided that Arefai was not going to take violent offense at something that
had hap-pened more than half D'Shai away, so I decided that being truthful was, at least for once, the
safest thing to do, and put on my most engaging smile.
"Well, no, Lord. But accidents happen. When you're walking through the roads high in the mountains
of Helgramyth, it often happens that the innocent bits of wet twine you have set out the night beforeтАФ"
"Snares?"
I spread my hands. "Oh, no, Lord. Simply to dry. The weather is often damp high in the mountains of