"George R. R. Martin - A Beast for Norn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

A Beast for Norn
George R.R. Martin

First appearance was in shorter and significantly different form in
Andromeda

Haviland Tuf was drinking alone in the darkest corner of an alehouse on Tamber when the thin man found
him. His elbows rested on the table and the top of his bald head almost brushed the low wooden beam
above. Four empty mugs sat before him, their insides streaked by rings of foam, while a fifth, half-full,
was cradled in his huge white hands.
If Tuf was aware of the curious glances the other patrons gave him from time to time, he showed no sign
of it; he quaffed his ale methodically, his face without expression. He made a singular solitary figure
drinking alone in his booth.
He was not quite alone though; Dax lay asleep on the table before him, a ball of dark fur. Occasionally,
Tuf would set down his mug of ale and idly stroke his quiet companion. Dax would not stir from his
comfortable position among the empty mugs. The cat was fully as large, compared to other cats, as
Haviland Tuf was compared to other men.
When the thin man came walking up to Tuf’s booth, Tuf said nothing at all. He merely looked up,
blinked, and waited for the other to begin.
“You are Haviland Tuf, the animal-seller,” the thin man said. He was indeed painfully thin. His garments,
all black leather and grey fur, hung loose on him, bagging here and there. Yet he was plainly a man of
some means, since he wore a slim brass coronet around his brow, under a mop of black hair, and his
fingers were adorned with a plenitude of rings.
Tuf scratched Dax behind one black ear. “It is not enough that our solitude must be intruded upon,” he
said to the cat, his voice a deep bass with only a hint of inflection. “It is insufficient that our grief be
violated. We must also bear calumnies and insults, it seems.” He looked up at the thin man. “Sir,” he said.
“I am indeed Haviland Tuf, and perhaps it might be said that I do in some sense trade in animals. Yet
perhaps I do not consider myself an animal-seller. Perhaps I consider myself an ecological engineer.”
The thin man waved his hand in an irritated gesture, and slid uninvited into the booth opposite Tuf. “I
understand that you own an ancient EEC seedship. That does not make you an ecological engineer, Tuf.
They are all dead, and have been for centuries. But if you would prefer to be called an ecological
engineer, then well and good. I require your services. I want to buy a monster from you, a great fierce
beast.”
“Ah,” said Tuf, speaking to the cat again. “He wishes to buy a monster, this stranger who seats himself at
my table uninvited.” Tuf blinked. “I regret to inform you that your quest has been in vain. Monsters are
entirely mythological, sir, like spirits, werebeasts, and competent bureaucrats. Moreover, I am not at this
moment engaged in the selling of animals, nor in any other aspect of my profession. I am at this moment
consuming this excellent Tamberkin ale, and mourning.”
“Mourning?” the thin man said. “Mourning what?” He seemed most unwilling to take his leave.
“A cat,” said Haviland Tuf. “Her name was Havoc, and she had been my companion for long years, sir.
She has recently died, on a world called Alyssar that I had the misfortune to call upon, at the hands of a
remarkably unpleasant barbarian princeling.” He looked at the thin man’s brass coronet. “You are not by
chance a barbarian princeling yourself, sir?”
“Of course not.”
“That is your good fortune,” said Tuf.
“Well, pity about your cat, Tuf. I know your feeling, yesyes, I’ve been through it a thousand times
myself.”
“A thousand times,” Tuf repeated flatly. “You might consider a strenuous effort to take better care of
your pets.”
The thin man shrugged. “Animals do die, you know. Can’t be helped. Fang and claw and all that, yesyes,