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

"Well," Pesh said, covering her own lapse, "you won't lack for space or comfort here. In fact, you're
welcome to join us in the conversation pool now. We'll get to know each other better."

"A good idea," Bunwadde said, "but Marcus needs to settle into his room first. Maybe he'll come down
with us later."

"Yes, I will," Marcus said, daring no more.

He followed Bunwadde to a bedroom at the back of the house. It had a human-style bed, made of local
materials, next to a standard Kevhtre sink. The bedspread bore sharp patterns of bright yellow, sea
green, and purple, against the silvery sheen of the headboard and bedposts. The desk was also made for
humans, in a good imitation of colonial style, though with a few knickknacks scattered on its surface that
had to be Kevhtre, because Marcus couldn't see what they were otherwise. The walls bore several small
paintings, bucolic landscapes mixed with jagged abstracts that defied framing.

Marcus took it in passively. "It's certainly roomier than I've had lately. Thank you very much." He lifted
his bags onto the bed to start unpacking.
Bunwadde noticed the canvas bag immediately. "String of Pearls, I see. You play?" he asked with a
skeptical tone.

Marcus was hoping Bunwadde would bring it up first. "I've been teaching myself." That made
Bunwadde's bristles stand up. "It's a way to learn about part of your everyday culture, and to improve
my language skills a bit. If you happen to play, I'll offer you a game any time." He kept unpacking
throughout, as though this were nothing very important.

Bunwadde made a noise in his throat, then swallowed it. "I might enjoy that, Marcus. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." He carried an armful of clothes to the dresser, this of Kevhtre design. It was made of
native wood, suffused with blue stain, and its top reached his chin. He pulled out a drawer. "Might I ask a
question? It's part professional, but part personal too."

"Please do."

Marcus cast his eyes around. "How well does this room mesh with Kevhtre Union aesthetic sensibilities?"

"It was furnished for your use," Bunwadde said, "so it's more important to ask how well it suits your
taste."

"It ... it doesn't. It's much too disparate, almost deliberately so. It ... clashes," he finished, the last word in
English.

"Exactly how I'd put it. I wondered how you would respond."

If Marcus had had bristles, they would have stiffened. "I don't think this room would seem right for any
human."

"Some wouldn't care. Some wouldn't say anything about it. You aren't one of them. Marcus, I think we
shall get along well."