"C. J. Cherryh - Chanur 05 - Chanur's Legacy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cherryh C J)

That had been the absolute depth of despair. He had asked the guard what would they do then, and the guard said, oh, probably keep him here for the rest of his life.

The kif had said, When we want rid of someone we kill him. Hani sneak away and leave him. You're half again bigger than your females. They say you're a fighter. Why didn't you kill them and secure your place?

He had been appalled. But the kif as kif went was a talkative one, and more friendly than he had expected of that dangerous kind. He had had trouble understanding it at first. It interrupted everything with clicks. It smelled of ammonia. It complained that he stank. It had naked, black skin that was gray where the light fell on it, and velvety soft and wrinkled, although in kif that didn't seem to be a sign of age. It had long jaws and a small mouth and what he had heard said it had to have live food, which it diced into a fine paste with a second set of jaws, far up toward the gullet-after which it spat out the bones and the fur. If it bit you, those teeth could get a crippling mouthful. It ate its own kind and it did not feel remorse. Such statements were not prejudicial: its psychology was different, utterly self-interested, and one had better believe so and not judge it by hani standards: that was what he had learned about kif in his books.
But that kif was the only one who spoke to him, the only living being he had seen besides the mahen doctor, who had not had much to say to him, except what he knew, that he was in trouble. He had come even to look forward to the kif in the morning, because it did stay to talk; and he had stopped thinking it was going to take a piece out of him without a reason.

But it had not come this morning nor the morning before. And when the door opened, he thought it was lunch, which he wasn't interested in, because his stomach could only tolerate the breakfasts, and no one cared, and no one changed the menu.
So he thought he could lie there on the bunk and not pay any attention and it would go away.

But it didn't. Whoever it was didn't make the ordinary sound of setting down a tray and leaving. Whoever it was just stood there.

He turned over and looked, and saw a kif like every other kif, except its black robes glistened and the border of its hood had silver cording. He could not see all of its face, just the snout. But he had the impression of its fixed stare as he sat up.

"Sir?" He had no idea of the proprieties, whether he should bow or stand there, but he decided on bowing. He thought it might be a station officer of some kind. It was even possible it was the kif he had hit, which had gotten him in here. He hoped it didn't want a fight. He was considerably at a disadvantage, and besides, he had gotten in trouble that way in the first place.

"They tell me you're refusing your food."

It was an official of some kind. "It doesn't agree with me, sir. I'm sorry."

"A very respectful hani. Males of your kind have a reputation for violence. For strength-one can expect that. But they say you're such a quiet, cooperative prisoner.''

"I didn't mean to hit anybody. If it was you, I'm sorry."

"No, no, not me. I assure you. In fact I've taken the liberty of contacting the governor in your case. A hani ship is in port. I thought it might agree to help you get home."

All at once his pulse was racing. Everyone said never trust such a creature, and it had to want something-kif didn't do you favors. Everyone said so. There had to be a catch.

"Who are they, sir?"

"Relatives of the mekt-hakkikt. Chanur clan. And they have agreed to take you in custody. I hope this is agreeable to you."

Agreeable. He folded his arms to keep from shaking. "Yes, sir. Absolutely." Chanur. Gods, oh, gods, if it could possibly be true ...

"You wonder why one of my rank would be interested?"

"Yes, sir."

"My name is Vikktakkht. Can you say that?"

"Vikktakkht."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You understand gratitude.''
"Yes, sir."

"Then do me a favor. When it occurs to you ... repeat my name where it seems appropriate."