"Shane Tourtellotte - String of Pearls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tourtellotte Shane)

"Father, what do I do with this?" Milinor turned her dish so he could see inside. Bunwadde leaned in and
whispered his advice, then gave Marcus a look that dared him to protest. He didn't.

That play put Milinor in third, and she stayed there until the tile bag was empty. She made a play to go
twenty ahead of Marcus, but he saw two ways to play his last four tiles. Both scored better than twenty,
and no play by Pesh could possibly block them both.

He sighed--then gasped, as Pesh took all seven tiles out of her dish and laid them on the grid. He was
too stunned to hear the board announce the final scores.

"One point, Platp," Bunwadde said. "Excellent play." Dimly, Marcus was aware that Pesh had just beaten
her husband.

"And I beat Marcus, right?" Milinor chimed in.

"Listen again." Bunwadde got the board to repeat the score. Milinor shrieked with joy, and began
capering around the room, Movedhor right behind her. Bunwadde joined in her celebration, picking her
up and doing his own heavy-footed dance.

Marcus just sat, watching, listening, burning.
****
Work was not a very good salve that time, even though there was lots of it. Bunwadde's incoming
shipment was large, and notations for all of them took time, even where Marcus's knowledge was thin.
Neither was he in a mood to confess ignorance, on anything.

He delivered a preliminary list to Bunwadde late that day. "I should have the full descriptions done by the
end of tomorrow," he said, "but that's a good start."

Bunwadde's head made a slight, vaguely affirmative motion. "It is satisfactory for now. Platp and I can
work on this during restday."

Marcus hadn't noted the calendar. "Will I be coming in to work tomorrow, sir?"

"I don't see the point. Almost nobody will be here."

"I see. Still, I should bring the files home. I'll be able to finish up there, pretty easily."

"Yes. Good."

Marcus didn't like the growing sense of detachment. "We might even have time for another game
tomorrow. I hope it can be just us. I find I learn--"

"I'm sorry, Marcus," Bunwadde said, standing up, "but I'm not interested in any more games with you."

Marcus felt himself shrivel. "I'm sorry if it was presumptuous of me to ask that way."
"It was, but that is not why I refused. I would not enjoy another game." His mouth took on a downward
curl. "I do not find it a challenge."

It was like being punched in the gut, slowly. Marcus tipped his head. "I understand, sir," he said, and
made for the door, carrying all the dignity he could.