"George R. R. Martin - Dying of the Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

Vikary asked loudly, deliberately wrenching the conversation away from the other Kavalar.
"I don't know," Dirk said, sipping his beer. "Should I?"
"I'd never forgive you if you didn't," Gwen said, smiling.
"Then I'll go. What's so interesting?"
"The ecosystem-it's forming and dying, all at the same time. Ecology was a forgotten science in the Fringe for a
long time. Even now the outworlds boast less than a dozen trained eco-engineers between them. When the Festival
came, Worlorn was seeded with life forms from fourteen different worlds with almost no thought as to the
interaction. Actually more than fourteen worlds were involved, if you want to count multiple transplants-animals
brought from Earth to Newholme to Avalon to Wolfheim, and thence to Worlorn, that sort of thing.
"What Arkin and I are doing is a study of how things have worked out. We've been at it a couple years already,
and there's enough work to keep us busy for a decade more. The results should be of particular interest to farmers on
all the outworlds. They'll know which Fringe flora and fauna they can safely introduce to their homeworlds, and
under what conditions, and which are poison to an ecosystem."
"The animals from Kimdiss are proving particularly poisonous," Janacek growled. "Much like the manipulators
themselves."
Gwen grinned at him. "Garse is annoyed because it looks as though the black banshee is heading toward
extinction," she told Dirk. "It's a shame, really. On High Kavalaan itself they've been hunted to the point where the
species is clearly endangered, and it had been hoped that the specimens turned loose here twenty years ago would
establish themselves and multiply, so they could be recaptured and taken back to High Kavalaan before the cold
came. It hasn't worked out that way. The banshee is a fearful predator, but at home it can't compete with man, and on
Worlorn it has had its niche appropriated by an infestation of tree-spooks from Kimdiss."
"Most Kavalars think of the banshee only as a plague and a menace," Jaan Vikary explained. "In its natural habitat
it is a frequent man-killer, and the hunters of Braith and Redsteel and the Shanagate Holding think of banshee as the
ultimate game, with a single exception. Ironjade has always been different. There is an ancient myth, of the time Kay
Iron-Smith and his teyn Roland Wolf-Jade were fighting alone against an army of demons in the Lameraan Hills.
Kay had fallen, and Roland, standing over him, was weakening by the moment, when from over the hills the
banshees came, many of them flying together, black and thick enough to block out the sun. They fell hungrily onto
the demon army and consumed them, one and all, leaving Kay and Roland alive. Later, when that teyn-and-teyn
found their cave of women and established the first Ironjade holdfast, the banshee became their brother-beast and
sigil. No Ironjade has ever killed a banshee, and legend says that whenever a man of Ironjade is in danger of his life,
a banshee will appear to guide and protect him."
"A pretty story," Dirk said.
"It is more than a story," Janacek said. "There is a bond between Ironjade and banshee, t'Larien. Perhaps it is
psionic, perhaps the things are sentient, perhaps it is all instinct. I do not pretend to know. Yet the bond exists."
"Superstition," Gwen said. "You really must not think too badly of Garse. It's not his fault that he never got much
of an education."
Dirk spread paste across a biscuit and looked at Janacek. "Jaan mentioned that he was a historian, and I know what
Gwen does," he said. "What about you? What do you do?"
The blue eyes stared coldly. Janacek said nothing.
"I get the impression," Dirk said, continuing, "that you are not an ecologist."
Gwen laughed.
"That impression is uncannily correct, t'Larien," Janacek said.
"What are you doing on Worlorn, then? For that matter"-he shifted his gaze to Jaan Vikary-"what does a historian
find to do in a place like this?"
Vikary cradled his beer mug between two large hands and drank from it thoughtfully. "That is simple enough," he
said. "I am a highbond Kavalar of the Ironjade Gathering, bonded to Gwen Delvano by jade-and-silver. My betheyn
was sent to Worlorn by vote of the highbond council, so it is natural that I am here too, and my teyn. Do you
understand?"
"I suppose. You keep Gwen company, then?"
Janacek appeared very hostile. "We protect Gwen," he said icily. "Usually from her own folly. She should not be