"Charles Stross - Trunk and Disorderly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

crystal screen that forms the ceiling. However, for the journey to AbdulтАЩs
pleasure dome on Mars it suffered from three major drawbacks. For one
thing, in a fit of misplaced bonhomie IтАЩd offered Edgestar Wolfblack a lift,
and old Edgy wasnтАЩt the best company for a post-drop pre-prandial, on
account of his preferred tipples being corrosive or hypergolic, or both.
Secondly, Laura was still making her absence felt. And finally, as the icing
on the cake, so to speak, Miss Feng had locked Jeremy in the luggage
compartment. He was kicking up a racket as only a sober dwarf mammoth
with a hangover can, and I could barely hear myself think over the din.
 тАЬDash it all, how much beer did you give him?тАЭ I asked my butler.

тАЬTwo liters, Sir,тАЭ Miss Feng replied. тАЬOf the rather elderly Bragote
from the back of your uncleтАЩs laboratory. I judged it the least likely to be
missed.тАЭ

тАЬOh dear God!тАЭ I cried.

тАЬBragh-ought?тАЭ echoed Edgy, as a plaintive squeal and a loud thud
echoed from the under floor bay. By the sound of things Jeremy was trying
to dash his brains out on the undercarriage. (Unfortunately a dwarf
mammothтАЩs skull is thick enough to repel meteors and small anti-matter
weapons.)

тАЬWas that a mistake?тАЭ Miss Feng enquired, unexpectedly tentatively.

I sighed. тАЬYouтАЩre new to the household, so I suppose you werenтАЩt to
know this, but anything Uncle Featherstonehaugh brewed is best treated as
an experiment in creative chemical warfare. He was particular keen on the
Bragote: itтАЩs a mediaeval recipe and it requires a few years to mature to the
consistency of fine treacle, but once you dilute the alcohol itтАЩs an excellent
purgative. Or so IтАЩm told,тАЭ I added hastily, not wanting to confess to any
teenage indiscretions.

тАЬOh dear.тАЭ Her brow wrinkled. тАЬOne suspected it was a little past its
prime. There is another firkin in the hold, just in case it becomes necessary
to sedate Jeremy again.тАЭ

тАЬI donтАЩt think that will work,тАЭ I said regretfully. тАЬHeтАЩs not entirely stupid.
Uncle was working on a thesis that the Black Death of 1349 wasnтАЩt actually
a plague but a hangover.тАЭ

тАЬBlackdeath? Is no posthuman of that nomenclature in my clade,тАЭ
Edgy complained.

BUMP went the floor beneath my feet, causing my teeth to vibrate.
тАЬOnly two hours to Mars,тАЭ Miss Feng observed. тАЬIf Sir will excuse me, I
have to see to his costume before arrival.тАЭ She retreated into one of the
staterooms, leaving me alone with old Edgy and the pachydermal
punctuation.