"Gordon R. Dickson - Chantry Guild" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

onto the walkway. Loosening the loop from the log-end, she enlarged it and put
it around her so that it formed a loop diagonally about her body from one
shoulder and around and under her opposite hip. Doubling that loop with more
of the rope, she threw the long end of it down the wall's far side, climbed
over the fence and proceeded to rappel down its outside face, mountaineer
fashion. Once solidly on the ground she pulled the rest of the rope around the
log-end overhead and down into her hands. Recoiling it around her waist over
her robe as she went, she headed for the darkness of the forest, only a short
distance away.
The forest hid her and she was gone. But she had not left unobserved. One of
the early waking inhabitants of a building, looking out a back window, had
seen her go. By bad luck, he was one of the few locals who tried to curry
favor with the Occupation Forces-for there were good and bad Exotics, as there
were people of both kinds in all cultures. His attention had been caught by a
glimpse of a figure moving outside while the curfew of the night just passed
was still in effect. Now he lost no time in dressing and hurrying himself to
Military Headquarters.
Consequently, she was almost to her destination when she became aware of being
followed by green- uniformed, booted figures, with the glint of metal in their
hands that could only come from power rifles or needle guns. She went on, not
hurrying her pace. They wei-e already close enough to kill her easily with
their weapons, if that was what they wanted. They would be waiting to see if
she would lead them to others; and in any case their preference would be to
take her alive; to question her and otherwise amuse themselves with her before
killing her. However, if she could only gain a few minutes more, a small
distance farther . . .
She walked on unhurriedly, her resolve hardening as she went. Even if they
tried to take her now before she reached her intended destination, still all
might not be lost. She was Dorsai, of the Dorsai; a native of that cold, hard,
meagerly blessed planet whose only wealth of natural resources lay in its
4 Gordon R. Dickson planet-wide ocean and the scanty
areas of arable and pasture land on its stark islands, upthrust from the waves
like the tops of the underseas mountains.
For generations, the Dorsai had seen their sons and daughters leave home to
sell their military services in the wars of the other Younger Worlds; and so
earn the interstellar credits the Dorsai needed to survive. While those behind
her now were the sweepings of those other worlds. Not real military; and
spoiled beyond that by the fact that the Exotics they were used to dominating
did not know how to fight, even if they were willing to do so to save their
lives. So that those who followed her now had come to believe that merely to
show a weapon to any unarmed civilian produced instant obedience.
So, at close quarters, if those behind did not first cripple her with their
power or needle guns, she could handle up to half a dozen of them. In any
case, it would be strange if in the process she could not get her hands on at
least one of their weapons. If she did that, she would have no trouble dealing
with even a full platoon group.
But she was almost to the place toward which she had been headed; and they
were still some meters behind her. It became more and more obvious they were
merely following, unsuspecting that she might know they were there, and hoping
she would lead them to others they could capture as well. She had been working