"Michael Swanwick - The Feast of Saint Janis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

тАЬMy motherтАЩs people were descended from German settlers.тАЭ And it was
felt that a light-skinned representative could handle the touchy Americans
better, but he didnтАЩt say that.
тАЬWhatcher name, Ace?тАЭ
тАЬWolf.тАЭ
тАЬWolf!тАЭ Maggie crowed. тАЬYeah, you look like a real heartbreaker, honey.
Guess IтАЩd better be careful around you, huh? Likely to sweep me off my
feet and deflower me.тАЭ She nudged him with an elbow. тАЬThatтАЩs a joke,
Ace.тАЭ
 Wolf was fascinated. Maggie was alive, a dozen times more so than her
countrymen. She made them look like zombies. Wolf was also a little
afraid of her. тАЬHey. Whatcha think of my singing, hah?тАЭ
тАЬIt was excellent,тАЭ Wolf said. тАЬIt wasтАФтАЭ he groped for words тАЬтАФin my
land the music is quieter, there is not so much emotion.тАЭ
тАЬYeah, well I think it was fucking good, Ace. VoiceтАЩs never been in better
shape. Go tell тАШem that at Hopkins, Kaplan. Tell тАЩem IтАЩm giving them their
moneyтАЩs worth.тАЭ
тАЬOf course you are,тАЭ Kaplan said.
тАЬWell, I am, goddammit. Hey, this place is like a morgue! LetтАЩs ditch
this matchbox dressing room and hit the bars. Hey? LetтАЩs party.тАЭ
She swept them all out of the dressing room, out of the building, and
into the street. They formed a small, boisterous group, noisily wandering
the city, looking for bars.
тАЬThereтАЩs one a block thataway,тАЭ Maggie said. тАЬLetтАЩs hit it. Hey, Ace, IтАЩd
like ya ta meet Cynthia. Sin, this is Wolf. Sin and I are like one person
inside two skins. ManyтАЩs the time weтАЩve shared a piece of talent in the
same bed. Hey?тАЭ She cackled, and grabbed at CynthiaтАЩs ass.
тАЬCut it out, Maggie.тАЭ Cynthia smiled when she said it. She was a tall,
slim, striking woman.
тАЬHey, this town is dead!тАЭ Maggie screamed the last word, then gestured
them all to silence so they could listen for the echo. тАЬThere it is.тАЭ She
pointed and they swooped down on the first bar.
After the third bar, Wolf lost track. At some point he gave up on the
party and somehow made his way back to his hostel. The last he
remembered of Maggie she was calling after him, тАЬHey, Ace, donтАЩt be a
party poop.тАЭ Then: тАЬAt least be sure to come back tomorrow, goddammit.тАЭ



Wolf spent most of the next day in his room, drinking water and
napping. His hangover was all but gone by the time evening took the edge
off the dayтАЩs heat. He thought of MaggieтАЩs half-serious invitation,
dismissed it and decided to go to the Club.
The Uhuru Club was ablaze with light by the time he wandered in, a
beacon in a dark city. Its frequenters, after all, were all African foreign
service, with a few commercial reps such as himself forced in by the
insular nature of American society, and the need for polite conversation. It
was de facto exempt from the power-use laws that governed the natives.
 тАЬMbikana! Over here, lad, let me set you up with a drink.тАЭ Nnamdi of
the consulate waved him over to the bar. Wolf complied, feeling