"Mary Rosenblum - The Egg Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

THE EGG MAN
by Mary Rosenblum

Mary RosenblumтАЩs first professional publication, тАЬFor a PriceтАЭ (AsimovтАЩs,
June 1990), was a story sheтАЩd written for the 1988 Clarion West WritersтАЩ
Workshop. Mary will complete a professional circle when she takes on the
role of instructor at this yearтАЩs workshop. Since her first publication, she has
written eight novels and sold more than sixty short stories to SF, mystery,
and mainstream markets. The paperback edition of her newest novel,
Horizons, was released by Tor Books in November 2007. Water Rites, a
compendium of the novel Drylands and three prequel novelettes that first
appeared in AsimovтАЩs, came out from Fairwood Press in January 2007.
Although the action in her latest story takes place hundreds of miles south
of her earlier works, the people are equally brave, and the land as hard and
unforgiving in...

****

Zipakna halted at midday to let the Dragon power up the batteries. He
checked on the chickens clucking contentedly in their travel crates, then
went outside to squat in the shade of one fully deployed solar wing in the
43 centigrade heat. Ilena, his sometimes-lover and poker partner, accused
him of reverse snobbery, priding himself on being able to survive in the
Sonoran heat without air conditioning. Zipakna smiled and tilted his water
bottle, savoring the cool, sweet trickle of water across his tongue.

Not true, of course. He held still as the first wild bees found him,
buzzed past his face to settle and sip from the sweat-drops beading on his
skin. Killers. He held very still, but the caution wasnтАЩt really necessary. Thirst
was the great gentler here. Every other drive was laid aside in the pursuit of
water.

Even love?

He laughed a short note as the killers buzzed and sipped. So Ilena
claimed, but she just missed him when she played the tourists without him.
It had been mostly tourists from China lately, filling the underwater resorts in
the Sea of Cortez. Chinese were rich and tough players and Ilena had been
angry at him for leaving. But he always left in spring. She knew that. In front
of him, the scarp he had been traversing ended in a bluff, eroded by water
that had fallen here eons ago. The plain below spread out in tones of ochre
and russet, dotted with dusty clumps of sage and the stark upward thrust of
saguaro, lonely sentinels contemplating the desiccated plain of the
Sonoran and in the distance, the ruins of a town. Paloma? Zipakna tilted his
wrist, called up his position on his link. Yes, that was it. He had wandered a
bit farther eastward than heтАЩd thought and had cut through the edge of the
Pima preserve. Sure enough, a fine had been levied against his account.
He sighed. He serviced the Pima settlement out here and they didnтАЩt mind if
he trespassed. It merely became a bargaining chip when it came time to
talk price. The Pima loved to bargain.