"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 14 - Jack of Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

harsh treatment, his hand gripping the thin shoulder, pain
emphasizing the lesson.

An animal killed, in itself nothing if it had not been for the
value, but what next? Once allow a threat against the established
order and there would be no end. Shops raided, men killed, a
mass of starving wretches bursting from their confines and
demanding food as a right instead of a reward. Give it to them
and where would be the power held by the Owners? To be
charitable was to invite destruction. To survive on Teralde a man
had to be strong.

Logic which had confounded the boy as he was forced to
watch the man die. Surely a man was of greater value than a
beast? And if hunger turned men savage, then why not feed them
and eliminate the danger? Concepts which his father had done
his best to beat from his son and, when learning, Ibius had
confessed his errors, had been satisfied.

A hard man who had died as he lived, one respected by the
Owners, who had not hesitated to elect his son to the vacated
position. And the years had brought a cynical contempt for those
who begged for the food they could have taken by right. That
lesson at least he had learned, only the strong could surviveтАФbut
never again did he want to see a screaming creature wearing the
shape of a man die in such a fashion.

And yet, it seemed, soon he would have no choice.

"Commissioner?" Usan Labria had entered his office and
plumped herself down without invitation. Old, raddled, the gems
on her fingers accentuating the sere and withered flesh. Paint
made her face a grotesque mask in which her eyes, cold, shrewd,
gleamed like splintered glass.

"My lady, this is an honor."

"An inconvenience, Commissioner. For once be honest."

Once, perhaps, he would have accepted the invitation, now he
was not so foolish. "The visit of an Owner could never be that, my
lady. You have a problem?"

"We all have a problem. This bull of Harada'sтАФwhen are you
going to find who killed it?"

"Your interest?"

"Don't be a fool, man." Her voice, like her face, was a
distortion of what a woman's should be. Harsh, rough, strained