"David Weber - Empire Of Man - 01 - March Upcountry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

"What, an image of a clotheshorse?" the chief of staff shot back. It was an old and worn argument that the valet seemed to be winning. "He's grown into that one beautifully!"

The valet stared back at her like a fearless mouse confronting a cat.

"Unlike some people," he sniffed with a glance at her painfully plain suit, "His Highness has an appreciation for the finer things in life. But there's more to His Highness than a `clotheshorse.' Until some of you begin to acknowledge that fact, however, you'll get exactly what you expect."

He glowered at her for an instant longer, then gave yet another sniff, hit the latch for the hatch with an elbow, and stepped into the cabin.
* * *

Roger leaned back on the bed in the tiny cabin, eyes shut and tried his best to radiate a dangerous calm. I'm twenty-two years old , he thought. I'm a Prince of the Empire. I willnot cry just because Mommy is making me angry.а

He heard the blast-door of the cabin open and shut, and knew immediately who it was; the cologne that Matsugae wore was almost overpowering in the small compartment.

"Good evening, Kostas," he said calmly. Just having the valet present was soothing. Whatever anyone else thought, Kostas always took him at his face value. When that value was below par, Kostas would tell him, but when it had merit on its own level, Kostas would acknowledge it where no one else would.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Kostas said, already laying out one of the light gi -like chambray outfits the prince preferred to lounge in. "Will you want your hair washed this evening?"

"No, thank you," the prince responded with unconscious politeness. "I suppose you heard I'm not taking dinner in the mess?"

"Of course, Your Highness," the valet responded as the prince rolled upright on the bed and looked sourly around the cabin. "Pity, really. I had a beautiful suit picked out: that light sienna one that complements your hair so well."

The prince smiled thinly. "Nice try, Kosie, but no. I'm just too frazzled to be polite at dinner." He slapped the sides of his head with both hands in frustration. "Leviathan I could take. Net-Hauling I could take, grumbly oil and all. But why, oh why , did Mother Her Regalness choose to send me on this goddamned tramp freighter?"

"It isn't a tramp freighter, Your Highness, and you know it. We needed room for the bodyguards, and the alternative would have been to detach a Fleet carrier. Which would have been a bit much, don't you think? I will admit, though, that it's a bit . . . shabby."

"Shabby!" The prince gave a bitter laugh. "It's so worn I'm surprised it can hold atmosphere! It's so old I bet the hull is welded! I'm surprised it's not driven by internal combustion engines or steam power! John would've gotten a carrier. Alexandra would've gotten a carrier! But not Roger! Oh, no, not `Baby Roj!' "

The valet finished laying out the various outfits to be chosen from in the limited space of the cabin and stood back with a resigned expression.

"Will I be drawing a bath for Your Highness?" he asked pointedly, and Roger gritted his teeth at the tone.

"So I should stop whining and get a grip?"

The valet only smiled very slightly in return, and Roger shook his head.

"I'm too worked up, Kosie." He looked around the three-meter-square space and shook his head again. "I wish there was someplace I could work out in peace on this tub."

"There's an exercise area adjacent to the Assault Complement Quarters, Your Highness," the valet pointed out.

"I said in peace," Roger commented dryly. He generally preferred to avoid the troops that filled the compartment. He'd never actually worked out around the Battalion, despite being its nominal commanding officer, because he'd had his fill of weird looks and sniggers behind his back in four years at the Academy. Getting the same treatment from his own bodyguards would be hard to take.

"The majority of the ship's company is eating at the moment, Your Highness," Matsugae pointed out. "You would probably have the gym to yourself."

The thought of a good workout was awfully attractive. Finally Roger nodded his head.

"Okay, Matsugae. Make it so."
* * *

As the dessert was cleared, Captain Krasnitsky looked significantly at Ensign Guha. The mahogany-skinned young woman blushed a darker hue, and stood up, wine glass in hand.