"Foster, Alan Dean - Flinx - Orphan Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

weasel. The other showed a torso like a galvanized boiler, and half a face.
His one eye twitched persistently as he stared after the retreating figure
of Flinx, while his small companion eagerly addressed the purchaser of the
tiny gold-and- pearl piano.

"Did you see the look on that guy's face, Challis?" he asked the plump man.
"That snake's a hot death. Nothin' was said to us about anything like that.
That big idiot not only saved his own life, but mine and Nanger's too."

The one-eye nodded.

"Ya, you're goin' to have to find someone else for this bit of dirty
stuff." His short companion looked adamant.

The fat merchant remained calm, scratched' at one of his many chins. "Have
I been ungenerous? Since yon both ape on permanent retainer to me, I
technically owe you nothing for this task." He shrugged. "But if it is a
question of more money ..."

The sleek weasel shook his head. "You can buy my service, Challis, but not
my life. Do you know what happens if that snake's venom bits you in the
eyes? No antivenom known will keep you alive for more than sixty seconds."
He kicked at the gravel and dirt underfoot, still moist from the regular
morning ram. "No, this isn't for me and not for Nanger neither."

"Indeed," the .man with half a face agreed solemnly. He sniffed and nodded
in the direction of the now de- parted youth. "What's your obsession with
the boy, anyway? He's not strong, he's not rich, and he's not particularly
pretty."

"It's his head I'm interested in, not his body," sighed Challis, "though
this is a matter of my pleasure." Puffing like a leaky pillow, he led them
through the bustling, shouting crowd. Humans, thranx, and representatives
of a dozen other commercial races slid easily around and past them as
though oiled, all intent on errands of importance.

"It's my Janus jewel. It bores me."

The smaller man looked disgusted. "How can any- one rich enough to own a
Janus jewel be bored?" "Oh, but I am, Nolly-dear, I am."

Nanger made a half-smirk. "What's the trouble, Challis? Your imagination
failing you?" He laughed, short, stentorian barks.

Challis grinned back at him. "Hardly that, Nanger, but it seems that I have
not the right type of mind to produce the kind of fine, detailed resolution
the jewel is- capable of. I need help for that. So I've been at work these
past months looking for a suitable mental adept, trying to find a surrogate
mind of the proper type to aid in operating the jewel. I've paid a lot of
money for the right information," he finished, nodding at a tall Osirian he