"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 09 - Mayenne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

Dumarest frowned, the man was beginning to annoy him. A shipboard
acquaintance, met when he had joined the ship at Zelleth, the entrepreneur was
becoming a nuisance. Deliberately he looked away, studying the others in the salon.
Two dour men, brothers, Sac and Tek Qualish, consultant engineers now intent on
their cards. Mari Analoch, hard, old, with eyes like those of a bird of prey, a
procuress seeking to open a new establishment. A squat amazon, Hera Phollen with
her charge the Lady Lolis Egas, young, spoiled, eager for excitement and adulation.
Vekta Gorlyk, who played like a machine. Ilgazt Bitola, who played like a fool. The
man who waited with his wine.

"Earl?" Chom was insistent.

"No."

"You have something better to do? More study, perhaps?" Chom smiled as
Dumarest turned to stare into his eyes. "The steward was careless and failed to close
the door of your cabin. I saw the papers you had been working on. Such dedication!
But I am not after charity, Earl. Daroca wants to meet you and I think it would profit
you to meet him." He paused and added, softly: "It is possible that he might be able
to tell you something of Earth."
***
 Eisach Daroca was a slight man, tall, dressed in somber fabrics of expensive
weave, the starkness relieved only by the jeweled chain hanging around his neck, the
wide bracelets on his wrists. He wore a single ring on the third finger of his left hand,
a seal intricately engraved and mounted on a thick band. His face was smooth, soft,
the skin like crepe around the eyes. His hair was clubbed and thickly touched with
silver. A dilettante, Dumarest had decided. A man with wealth enough to follow his
whims, perhaps jaded, perhaps a genuine seeker after knowledge. An eternal student.
Such men were to be found in unexpected places.

He rose as they approached, smiling, extending his hand. "My dear Chom, I'm so
glad that you managed to persuade your friend to join us. You will join me in wine,
Earl? I may call you that? Please be seated."

The wine was an emerald perfume, delicate to the nose, tart and refreshing to the
tongue. Daroca served it in goblets of iron-glass, thin as a membrane, decorated with
abstract designs, expensive and virtually indestructible. A part of his baggage,
Dumarest knew, as was the wine, the choice foods he ate. Not for him the usual
basic, the spigot-served fluid laced with vitamins, sharp with citrus, sickly with
glucose, which formed the normal diet of those traveling High. Everything about the
man spoke of wealth and culture, but what was he doing on a vessel like this? Bluntly
he asked the question.

"A man must travel as he can," said Daroca. "And it amuses me to venture down
the byways of space. To visit the lesser worlds untouched by the larger ships. And
yet I do not believe there is virtue to be gained by suffering hardship. There is no
intrinsic merit in pain and, surely, discomfort is a minor agony to be avoided
whenever possible. You agree?"