"C. J. Cherryh - Chanur 02 - Chanur's Venture" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cherryh C J)

"Sorry." That was a mistake. She scrambled to her feet and started away; but the
spacer swayed erect, waved wildly for balance as she clawed her unsteady way up
the plastic bowlseat to catch her arm. "Hani male, hey? Need help, Chanur? Where
you see this vision, hey?"
There were derisive laughs, curses -- someone was trodden on. The rest of the
hani came up on the seat and scrambled out of the pit. Hilfy tore loose and
fled. "Hey," she heard at her back, hani-cough, a drunken roar.
"Pay!" A shrill stsho warble from another side. "Pay, hani bastard--"
"Charge it to Ayhar's Prosperity!"
"O gods!" Hilfy dived for the exit, just as a pair of kifish patrons loomed in
the doorway. Black musty robes brushed her with a smell that sent the wind up
her back. She did not look back or pause as she dived past them both. "Hard
rabble." she heard hissed behind her, the noise of drunken encounter mingled
with kifish voices.
She darted through the outer doors into the light of the market, blinked,
hesitating on one foot, hearing above the market noise the sound of hani in full
chase behind her -- no sight of Tirun. She leaned into a run and plunged into
the next odd-numbered bar -- stsho again, not a sight of hani. She pelted back
out the doors, through the incoming mass of Ayhar clan, who began a turnabout in
that doorway in merry disorder.
Still no Tirun. She dived into the next odd-number, another stsho den, saw a
tall red shape, and heard the voices, a deeper hani voice than this port had
ever heard, the chitter of stsho curses, the snarl of mahendo'sat.
"Na Khym," she cried in profoundest relief. "Na Khym!" She eeled her way through
the towering crowd at the bar and grabbed him by the arm. "Uncle -- thank the
gods. Pyanfar wants you. Now. Right now, na Khym."
"Hilfy?" he said, far from focused. He swayed there, a head taller than she,
twice her breadth of shoulder, his broad, scarred nose wrinkled in confusion.
"Trying to explain to these fellows--"
"Uncle, for the gods' sakes-"
"He is," a hani voice cried from the door. "By the gods -- what's he doing
here?"
Khym flinched, faced about with his back to the bar, starting with misgiving at
the drunken Ayhar spacers.
"Hey!" --A second hani voice, from among the Ayhar. "Chanur! You crazy, Chanur?
What are you up to, huh, bringing him out here? You got no regard for him?"
"Come on," Hilfy pleaded. "Na Khym--" She tugged at a massive arm, felt the
tension in it. "For gods' sake, na Khym -- we've got an emergency."
Maybe that got through. Khym shivered, one sharp tremor, like an earthquake
through solid stone.
"Get, get, get!" a stsho shrilled in pidgin. "Get out he my bar!"
Hilfy pulled with all her might. Khym yielded and kept walking, through the hani
crowd that drew aside wide-eyed and muttering, past the black wall of curious
mahendo'sat and the glitter of their gold.
Another black wall formed athwart the brighter, outside light. Billowing robes
blocked the path to the door, two tall, ungainly shapes.
"Chanur," said a kif, a dry clicking voice. "Chanur brings its males out. It
needs help."
Hilfy stopped. Khym had, with a rumbling in his throat. "Don't," Hilfy said,
"don't do it -- Khym, for gods' sakes, just let's get out of here. We don't want