"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 16 - Snakes Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

that aging can improve other things besides wine.

For three days the pool was home, during which time he rested and recovered his strength. Despite his
inevitable worries, no other carnivore showed up to claim the oasis. Yakus watched the harmless ones who
came to drink and let them leave in peace. He already had as much meat as he and his dryzam could
handle.

On the fourth day he rose, secured the rest of the meat as best he could between the dorsal fins on the
dryzam's back, and started off confidently in the direction of Edgedune. When the minidrag settled onto
his shoulder he wasn't too surprised. Still, he was only partly successful at hiding his fear at the proximity
of so deadly a creature, however friendly it had proven itself to be.

The minidrag seemed content to ride there. On the sixth day Yakus tentatively reached out to touch it. It
did not threaten him. The prospector smiled. It was several days later that he first noticed the tiny tag
clipped beneath the rear of one wing.

IF FOUND ALIVE OR DEAD, the tag read, PLEASE RETURN TO ... It gave a name and several
addresses. The first lay reasonably close to Edgedune.

Yakus might die soon anyway, but not before he had returned his leathery savior to its proper owner.


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 Foster, Alan Dean - Commonwealth 16 - Flinx - Snakes Eyes (SS) (v1.0)




Flinx was drinking at an outdoor stall. A slim youth, red-haired and dark-skinned, he concealed many
secrets and unusual abilities beneath an unremarkable exterior.

Only a loud commotion among the stalls lining the upper street roused him from his thoughts, which
had been soured with concern these past days. Curious, he turned along with the vendors and other
shoppers in the marketplace to see what the cause was. As he did so, something landed with familiar
pressure on his right shoulder.

"Pip!" He stroked the minidrag's neck as it curled close to him. "Where have you been? You worried me
crazy. I thought—"

"Don't be harsh on your pet!" Flinx looked toward the source of the imploring voice, saw a straight if
aged form crowned with curly black-and-white hair striding toward him. The principal source of the
commotion which had first attracted him trailed behind the old man. It was a peculiar, high-finned creature
that barely managed to squeeze itself between the closely packed street stalls. Children ran alongside,
gesturing and poking at the unfamiliar monster.

The oldster regarded Flinx speculatively. "I am Knigta Yakus. I owe your pet my life." A hand like a
gnarled piece of firewood indicated the relaxing mini-drag. "Later I will make you rich. But I must know
— if this place is your home, and you this minidrag's master, why did it seek me out in Dead-Place-on-
Map to save me?"