"Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Hunters of the Red Moon - 1973" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

He fell silent for a moment, and Dane thought about frying pans and fires. He was off the Mekhar slave ship, but it seemed he had escaped slavery only for what sounded like certain death at the hands of terrible, unknown Hunters. He thought, even the man who said, "Give me Liberty or give me Death," had had the kindness to preface it by saying that he knew not what course others might take. Besides, Dane hadn't been given the choice between liberty and death, but between slavery and what sounded like certain death anyway.

Dallith, her now-familiar trick of reading his mood, said angrily, "Why, then, did the Mekhar captain speak of honorable escape as an alternate to honorable and bloody death?"

The Mekhar looked startled. "I thought you knew," he said. "Surely you did not think we would condemn any brave creatures to a certain death! The Hunt-as ail those who know of the Hunters should know-runs from Eclipse to Eclipse of the Red Moon. Those who still live when the Eclipse comes again-go free. Free, and with a great prize, and great honor. Why else would I be here?"

The Mekhar turned his back on them, whiskers twitching, and Dane stood watching him, trying to take this in.

A chance for escape-but from fierce people, so fierce that they had no other name than Hunters, feared even by the Mekhars. An enemy no one had seen except in the moment of being killed by them. So that they must fight, or flee, or somehow escape them, for the period of Eclipse-however long that was-never knowing what form their enemy would take, or if he might come, invisible, out of the air.

For a moment, ignobly, he wished he were back on the slave ship. He'd been looking for adventure all his life, but a journey across the Galaxy, even as a slave, was enough adventure for one lifetime!

Then, for no good reason at all, he found himself more cheerful. If the Hunters made a quasi-religious ritual out of the Hunt, part of their fun would probably be in the risk involved. Hunters on Earth didn't get ail excited about going out to shoot rabbits. Fox-hunters made a big thing about not shooting the fox. The real mystique about hunting, for those who got involved in it, even on Earth, seemed to be the stalk, the danger, the thrill of running a risk. Therefore, the humans involved-or whatever races their Quarry might be-would somehow be given something like a fair chance.

_I've gone soft, Dane thought, I'_m out of condition, I used to be in fair fighting trim-_those lessons in Japan in aikido and karate, the strenuous night-and-day hard •work of solo sailing-_but three weeks of complete inactivity have softened me up. Aratak might make it; he's huge and tough. The women-_well, if it was physical strength that counted, Dallith at least would have to be protected-_although she'd been fierce enough, fighting the Mekhar, to scare him! But the Mekhars hadn't tested them for physical strength, Dane realized. The Mekhars had tested them for desperation, courage, willingness to take risks, and the ability to think out the loophole left for escape. So these must be the qualities the Hunters wanted in their Quarry, to give them a good fight He said aloud, "Maybe we've got a chance, after all Not a good one. But a chance."

Dallith gasped and clutched his arm, for the door at the far end of the long room was sliding open; Dane turned, wondering if they were to see the first of the mysterious Hunters. Instead what he saw was a tall, narrow metal column, which seemed to glide forward as if on invisible wheels. It had small slits covered with metal mesh, and small blinking lights or lenses, and after a moment Dane decided that it must be some sort of robot, even before it began to speak in the same sort of mechanical voice he had heard from the Mekhar ship's console.

"Welcome to this House of the Sacred Prey," it said, in that flat, metallic voice. "Food will be brought to you of whatever kind you desire, if you will state your preferred nutritional requirements. We have also for you"-the metal column whirred, turned slightly, and extruded a long metal arm-" garments suitable to the sacredness of your condition. Please to bathe in one of the pools or fountains, as you desire and as your custom suggests to your mind, and clothe yourselves in them." The clothing extended on the metal arm was of the same brick-red color that Dane had seen on the others in the great garden. Then they, too, were among the-what was that word the robot had used-the Sacred Prey? _All of them? Dane suddenly wondered if the Hunters would hunt them down singly, or all together?

The Mekhar turned on the robot and snarled, "You metal nothing, it is not the custom of my people to wear any garments other than our own!"

The robot said passionlessly, "It is impossible to insult a creature constructed of metal by describing him as such, but we deduce that this was your intention, and the intended insult is registered and acknowledged as such."

The Mekhar scowled and said, "You mean if I insult you, your masters the Hunters will regard it as an insult to them?"

"Oh, no." The robot's inflection did not change. "However, we have been informed that it is frustrating for a sapient being to insult another creature if the one insulted is not aware of the intended insult. We wish deeply to avoid giving cause for frustration to any of the Sacred Prey, so we were only reassuring you that we are aware of the intention to insult. Pray do not be frustrated."

Dane burst into a gurgle of laughter. He couldn't help it. The robot glided toward him and inquired anxiously, "Are you in distress?"

Dane, managing to get his face and voice straight, reassured the featureless robot that he was quite all right. The robot returned to the Mekhar who turned his back and the robot calmly glided around to face him again. The Mekhar, with a long sigh, remained still; and as if he had never been interrupted the robot continued. "As for your unwillingness to assume the garments of the Sacred Prey, it is customary that they shall be worn. Clad in the color assigned to the Sacred Prey, you will be admitted to any portion of the Hunting Preserves, and you will not be killed by accident or for any disciplinary action."

"You can't win, old fellow," said Dane to the Mekhar, trying hard to control his laughter. "Customs of the country, and all that Here, you-" He turned to the robot, and the inexpressive voice said, "You may address me as Server."

"Give me your customary garments, or whatever; I'll wear them."

Aratak said in an undertone to Dane, "If I am going to be hunted, I want to be in decent condition. Let's see if this-Ahem! I have a problem. Server-" he said hesitantly.

The robot who called himself Server wheeled noiselessly toward him. "We are here to serve you."

"Server, your presence proposes a problem to me," Aratak said. "Are you a sapient being?"

Server was motionless before the huge lizard-man. "The question neither interests us nor makes sense to us," he said

Aratak said, "Then let me rephrase your question. Do you partake of Universal Sapience? Shall I regard you as an independently intelligent being? It is obvious that your answers are responsive to unforeseen and unprogrammed happenings. Therefore, how shall I regard you?"

"It is not necessary to regard us as anything in particular," said Server. "You are Sacred Prey, therefore transient, and we represent a permanence. But if you will forgive a suggestion, Honored Prey, we would prefer to delay any possible discussions or disputations or philosophical questions as to the nature of our being until your material wants have been met. Have you a material request which we may honor, or have we leave to wait upon your companions?"

"I have a material request," Aratak said. "You spoke of bathing. In traveling one bathes as one can or must, in whatever way will serve the needs of sanitation, but can you provide me, for the repair of my integuments, with a bath of warm mud?"