"Debra Doyle & James MacDonald - Mageworlds 01 - The Price of the Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Debra)

I’d like to help you stake out our unknown friend for a cliffdragon’s breakfast, and much as I’d like to
have the ’Hammer to call my own-no.”

“We’re talking about somebody who either comes from Suivi Point or has connections there,”
her father continued. “And that, my girl, is exactly the sort of person you’ve been running around with for
the past few years. Do you deny it?”

She shook her head, the brief flare of resentment gone. “No. But if all you want from me is
inquiries out on the fringes of the law, you don’t have to buy them with Warhammer. I’ll do it for free.”

“That’s no good,” he said. “You’ll never be able to follow up anything if you have to go where
Osa and Claw Hard drag you. You take Warhammer; and I get the names, when you find them.”

She looked about the ’Hammer’s shadowed common room. “A ship like this-for nothing more
than a couple of names? I can’t take her, Dadda; it’s not enough.”

“She’s my ship,” said General Metadi, “and I say what she’s worth. The names will do.”

For a long time, Beka sat without answering, listening to the whisper of forced air through
Warhammer’s vents, and to the soft in-and-out of her own breath. The two sounds mingled in her ears,
like the breathing of a single creature.

A ship of my own, she thought. I used to say I’d give anything to have one. So now I get to
prove it.

“All right, Dadda. You have a deal.” She squared her shoulders, and extended her hand across
the mess table to seal the bargain free-spacer’s fashion. “Your names-my ship. Done?”

Her father met the grip with his own. “Done.”


Part One


I. mandeyn: embrig spaceport

Well past local midnight in Embrig Spaceport-port of call for the wealthy provincial world of
Mandeyn-the Freddisgatt Allee ran almost deserted from the Port Authority offices to the Strip. The
warehouses lining the Allee blocked most of the sky-glow from the lighted docking areas beyond, and
Mandeyn’s high-riding moon shed its pale illumination only in the center of the broad Allee.

Beka Rosselin-Metadi whistled an off-key tune through her front teeth as she took a leisurely
return walk down the Allee to her ship. The black wool cloak she wore against the cold of Embrig’s
winter night swirled around her booted ankles, and if she’d put a bit of extra swagger into her stride as
she left the Painted Lily Lounge-well, she figured she was entitled.

Damn right you’re entitled, my girl, she told herself. You made a tidy profit on carrying
those parts for Inter-world Data, and you’ve got another good cargo already on board for Artat-
not bad work for a twelve-hour layover with time out for dinner with an old shipmate.