"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 10 - Jondelle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

have plans?"

"To look around. To see that is to be seen. You have a
museum? A scientific institute?"
 The jeweler blinked his surprise. "We have a House of
Knowledge. The Kladour. You will recognize it by the fluted spire.
It is the pride of Sargone. And now, if you would care for more
wine? No? Then our business is completed. If the need arises, I
shall contact you. In the meantime, good fortune attend each
step you take."

"And may your life be full of gladness," responded Dumarest,
and knew by the sudden shift of light in the slanted eyes that he
had enhanced his standing in the jeweler's estimation. A man
who insisted on wine to complete a transaction would be
sensitive to such courtesies.

A moving arrow of dull green guided him through a labyrinth
of passages to the outer door where a squat man handed him a
bag of coins, waiting phlegmatically as Dumarest counted them.
The money safe in his pocket, he stepped into the street, blinking
at the comparative brilliance of the late afternoon. An emerald
sun hung low in the sky, painting the blank facades of the
buildings with a dozen shades of green; dark in shuttered
windows and enigmatic doors, bright and pale on parapets and
trailing vines heavy with blossoms of blue, gold, and scarlet
Above the roofs, seemingly close, he could see a peculiar spire
twisting as it rose to terminate in a delicate shaft topped by a
gilded ball. The Kladour, he guessed, and made his way toward
it.

In Sargone no street could be called straight. Every alley,
avenue, road, and byway was curved, a crescent, the part of
circle, the twist of a spiral, all wending in baffling contradiction
as if designed by the undulations of a gigantic serpent. A guide
had taken him to the jeweler's house, another would have taken
him to the Kladour, but the street had been empty and the spire
deceptively close. Dumarest had trusted to his own ability and
soon found that he was completely lost.

He halted, trying to orient himself. The sun was where it
should be, the spire too, but it was more distant now and the
street in which he stood wended in the wrong direction. Traffic
was light and pedestrians few. An alley gave onto a more
populous street which irritatingly sent him away from his
objective.

A man rubbed his chin, his eyes sharp as Dumarest asked
directions.