"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 07 - Technos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

lost.

Dumarest reached the end of the street, turned left and was
twenty yards from the corner when he heard the pound of
running feet coming from behind. Immediately he sprang to one
side, turning, pressing his back against a wall, his right hand
dipping to lift the nine-inch blade from where it nestled in his
boot. A vagrant beam caught the polished steel, shining from the
razor edge and the needle point, the betraying gleam vanishing
as, recognizing the man who loped towards him, he sheathed the
knife.

"Lemain!"

"WhatтАФ" The man staggered to a halt his face ghastly in the
dim light. He was stooped, one hand clamped to his side, the
fingers thick with oozing blood. His eyes widened as Dumarest
stepped toward him. "Earl! Thank God it's you! I thoughtтАФ" He
broke off, head turned to where other racing footsteps broke the
silence. "The guards! They're after me, Earl. They'll get me, too.
You'd best keep out of the way."

"Forget it," said Dumarest. He caught hold of the other's free
arm and swung it over his shoulders. Half carrying, half dragging
the injured man he ran down the street. The dark mouth of an
alley gaped to one side, and he turned down it as the
approaching footsteps grew louder. The alley was a trap, a blank
wall closing the far end. Dumarest turned and ran back as lights
shone at the mouth of the alley. The fingers of his free hand
scraped the wall, felt the wood of a door, and he thrust himself
against it. The panel was locked. He thrust again and felt
something yield with a dull snapping of wood. The door swung
inward and he almost fell into darkness. Supporting the weight
of the injured man, he closed the panel and leaned against it as
boots echoed from the cobbles beyond.

Light blossomed from somewhere, "Who is that? What do you
want?"

"Be quiet!" Dumarest turned and saw a woman sitting
upright on a bed, a candle guttering in her hand.

"It's all right," he said quickly. "We mean you no harm. Just
be silent."

She rose and came toward him. Her feet were bare, the nails
gilded, her height almost that of his own. Her hair was curled,
gilded, as were her fingernails, in the sign of her profession.
From beneath a thin robe of yellow silk her breasts moved in
succulent attraction. At each step a long, curved thigh gleamed