"Gardner F. Fox - Temptress Of The Time Flow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fox Gardner F)

say of Time? Do they say it is a force, a living thing that eats at the bowels
of men and machines?"
"Rot," Trenton said, without thinking.
Mani went on gravely, "What makes metal in water rust? Not the water,
for if that alone did it, then all metal in all water would rust. Oxidation,
you will say. But something must be added to metal and water. Time must
be added. Time and metal and water equal rust. Is it not so? You agree.
Then time is a force, a catalyst."
Trenton shook his head dazedly. "Time--a force."
"It is hard to believe. It changes your concepts. Think of Time as a flow
of energy, measured by clocks and watches, sun-dials and burning candles.
Drayatha would tap that flow of energy, build herself and the Min-dir
strange weapons that would use all time as their fuel. A weapon with such
energy behind it--would be the greatest ever invented by a human race."
"What would Drayatha conquer?" wondered Trenton.
"All history," said Mani softly. "You and your civilization
among--others. If Time is a flow of energy perhaps Drayatha could reverse
it, move backward in it. Conquer. Capture. Make herself and the Min-dir
great."
The tired old eyes studied Trenton. Mani gathered his green cloak
tighter around his thin shoulders. He smiled wryly, "Stop Drayatha. Stop
her--if you can."


Chapter II of Temptress of the Time Flow
RED LIGHT flickered over his eyeballs. A hot torch touched his chest.
Trenton rolled over, sat up. The flames were not fire, but hair. Red hair.
And the whiteness was a face.
"He stirs, Theg. Touch him again with your blade."
Trenton saw a red gash in his chest where a swordpoint had cut. He
looked away from it toward the red of the woman's hair. At the red of her
sultry mouth. At the slant eyes where green orbs glinted with amusement.
A mailed skirt, slit up the legs and thonged with scarlet leather and a
plasticine bolero gave her a raffish look.
 Drayatha. Her face was lovely and-
Evil!
She laughed unto his eyes mockingly. She said, "Theg!"
A big man with a growth of black beard lumbered from the shadows
flung by the little campfire. A naked sword glistened in his hairy paw. He
put it toward Trenton, thrust down.
With his wrist, Trenton hit the sword, turned it away. He rolled
suddenly from his pine-needle bed, hit the big man's ankles hard and
dumped him. Theg was a giant, but Trenton was a mountain catling.
Trenton was astride the blackbeard then, turning him with a twist of his
arm that made the joint rasp in its socket. Trenton wrapped browned legs
about the man's middle and locked them. The muscles stood on his naked
biceps.
"I can break his arms easily," he told Drayatha who was staring at him
with surprise and a cruel delight in her green eyes.
"Break them," she taunted him. "Then when they are mended, I'll give