"Gordon R. Dickson - Call him lord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

He brushed her aside and she stumbled a little. A busboy
among the tables on the far side of the dance floor, not much
older than the Prince and nearly as tall, put down his tray and
vaulted the railing onto the polished hardwood. He came up
behind the Prince and took hold of his arm, swinging him
around.
". . . Can't do that here." Kyle heard him say, as Kyle came
up. The Prince struck out like a pantherlike a trained boxer
with three quick lefts in succession into the face of the
busboy, the Prince's shoulder bobbing, the weight of his body
in behind each blow.
The busboy went down. Kyle, reaching the Prince, herded
him away through a side gap in the railing. The young man's
face was white with rage. People were swarming onto the
dance floor.
"Who was that? What's his name?" demanded the Prince,
between his teeth. "He put his hand on me! Did you see that?
He put his hand on me!"
"You knocked him out," said Kyle. "What more do you
want?"
"He manhandled meme!" snapped the Prince. "I want to
find oat' who he is!" He caught hold of the bar to which the
horses were tied, refusing to be pushed farther. "He'li'leam to
lay hands on a future Emperor!"
"No one will tell you his name," said Kyle. And the cold
note in his voice finally seemed to reach through to the Prince
and sober him. He stared at Kyle.
"Including you?" he demanded at last.
"Including me, Lord," said Kyle.
The Prince stared a moment longer, then swung away. He
turned, jerked loose the reins of the gelding and swung into
the saddle. He rode off. Kyle mounted and followed.
They rode in silence into the forest. After a while, the
 Prince spoke without turning his head.
"And you call yourself a bodyguard," he said, finally.
"Your life is in my hands. Lord," said Kyle. The Prince
turned a grim face to look at him.
"Only my life?" said the Prince. "As long as they don't kill
me, they can do what they want? Is that what you mean?"
Kyle met his gaze steadily.
"Pretty much so, Lord," he said.
The Prince spoke with an ugly note in his voice.
"I don't think I like you, after all, Kyle," he said. "I don't
think I like you at all."
"I'm not here with you to be liked. Lord," said Kyle.
"Perhaps not," said the Prince, thickly. "But I know your
name!"
They rode on in continued silence for perhaps another half
hour. But then gradually the angry hunch went out of the
young man's shoulders and the tightness out of his jaw. After