"Charles Stross - Merchant princes 03 - The Clan Corporate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

starkly functional, lay atop a cloisonn├й stand next to a pill case. "The
doctor says I'm to reduce the prednisone again next week. The Copaxone seems
to be helping a lot, and that's just one injection a day. As long as nobody
accidentally forgets to bring me next week's prescription I'll be fine."
"But surely nobody would-" Miriam's whole body quivered with anger.
"Really?" The duchess glanced back at her daughter, her expression unreadable.
"You seem to have forgotten what kind of a place this is. The meds aren't
simply costly in dollars and cents: someone has to bring them across from the
other world. And courier time is priceless. Nobody gives me a neatly itemized
bill, but if I want to keep on receiving them I have to pay. And the first
rule of business around here is, Don't piss off the blackmailers."
Miriam's reluctant nod seemed to satisfy the duchess, because she nodded:
"Remember, a lady never unintentionally gives offense-especially to people she
depends on to keep her alive. If you can hang on to just one rule to help you
survive in the Clan, make it that one. But I'm losing the plot. How are you
doing? Have there been any aftereffects?"
"Aftereffects?" Miriam caught her hand at her chin and forced herself to stop
fidgeting. She flushed, pulse jerking with an adrenaline surge of remembered
fear and anger. "I-" She lowered her hand. "Oh, nothing physical," she said
bitterly. "Nothing . . ."
"I've been thinking about him a lot lately, Miriam. He wouldn't have been good
for you, you know."
"I know." The younger woman-youth being relative: she wouldn't be seeing
thirty again-dropped her gaze. "The political entanglements made it a messy
prospect at best," she said, frowning. "Even if you discounted his
weaknesses." The duchess didn't reply. Eventually Miriam looked up, her eyes
burning with emotions she'd experienced only since learning to be Helge. "I
haven't forgiven him, you know."
"Forgiven Roland?" The duchess's tone sharpened.
"No. Your goddamn half-brother. He's meant to be in charge of security! But
he-" Her voice began to break.
"Yes, yes, I know. And do you think he has been sleeping well lately? I'm led
to believe he's frantically busy right now. Losing Roland was the least of our
problems, if you'll permit me to be blunt, and Angbard has a major crisis to
deal with. Your affair with him can be ignored, if it comes to it, by the
Council. It's not as if you're a teenage virgin to be despoiled, damaging some
aristocratic alliance by losing your honor-and you'd better think about that
some more in future, because honor is the currency in the circles you move in,
a currency that once spent is very hard to regain-but the deeper damage to the
Clan that Matthias inflicted-"
"Tell me about it," Miriam said bitterly. "As soon as I was back on my feet
they told me I could only run courier assignments to and from a safe house.
And I'm not allowed to go home!"
"Matthias knows you," her mother pointed out. "If he mentioned you to his new
employers-"
"I understand." Miriam subsided in a sullen silence, arms crossed before her
and back set defensively. After a moment she started tapping her toes.
"Stop that!" Moderating her tone, the duchess added, "If you do that in public
it sends entirely the wrong message. Appearances are everything, you've got to
learn that."