"Jack vance - Tschai 2 - Servants of the Wankh" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vance Jack)

hope of an easy passage to Cath.
Traz, going to the edge of the butte, peered over the cliff. "We may not even
be able to get down."
The survival kit which Reith had salvaged from the wrecked scout boat
included a pellet gun, an energy cell, an electronic telescope, a knife,
antiseptics, a mirror, a thousand feet of strong cord. "We can get down," said
Reith. "I'd prefer to fly." He turned to Anacho, who stood glumly considering
the sky-raft. "Do you think we can make repairs?"
Anacho rubbed his long white hands together in distaste. "You must realize
that I have no such training in these matters."
"Show me what's wrong," said Reith. "I can probably fix it."
Anacho's droll face grew even longer. Reith was the living refutation of his
most cherished axioms. According to orthodox Dirdir doctrine, Dirdir and
Dirdirmen had evolved together in a primeval egg on the Dirdir homeworld Sibol;
the only true men were Dirdirmen; all others were freaks. Anacho found it hard
to reconcile Reith's competence with his preconceptions, and his attitude was a
curious composite of envious disapproval, grudging admiration, unwilling
loyalty. Now, rather than allow Reith to excel him in yet another aspect, he
hurried to the stern of the skyraft and thrust his long pale clown's face under
the housing.
The surface of the butte was scoured clean of vegetation, with here and there
little channels half-full of coarse sand. Ylin-Ylan wandered moodily across the
butte. She wore the gray steppe dwellers' trousers and blouse, with a black
velvet vest; her black slippers were probably the first to walk the rough gray
rock, thought Reith ... Traz stood looking to the west. Reith joined him at the
edge of the butte. He studied the dismal steppe, but saw nothing.
"The Green Chasch," said Traz. "They know we're here."
Reith once more scanned the steppe, from the low black hills in the north to
the haze of the south. He could see no flicker of movement, no plume of dust. He


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brought out his scanscope, a binocular photo-multiplier, and probed the
gray-brown murk. Presently he saw bounding black specks, like fleas. "They're
out there, for a fact."
Traz nodded without great interest. Reith grinned, amused as always by the
boy's somber wisdom. He went to the sky-raft. "How go the repairs?"
Anacho's response was an irritated motion of arms and shoulders. "Look for
yourself."
Reith came forward, peered down at the black case, which Anacho had opened,
to reveal an intricacy of small components. "Corrosion and sheer age are at
fault," said Anacho. "I hope to introduce new metal here and here." He pointed.
"It is a notable problem without tools and proper facilities."
"We won't leave tonight then?"
"Perhaps by tomorrow noon."
Reith walked around the periphery of the butte, a distance of three or four
hundred yards, and was somewhat reassured. Everywhere the walls were vertical,
with fins of rock at the base creating crevices, and grottos. There seemed no