"Ann Maxwell - The Jaws of Menx" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

The Jaws Of Menx
Ann Maxwell
1981

A STRANGE, ASCENDING HOWL ECHOED FROM THE MOUNTAINS ...
Shiya looked at Rhane and said, “They’re coming.”
Standing in the gloom, waiting uneasily to meet a legend, Rhane asked, “I don’t see any restraints.
How do you control them?”
“I don’t.”
Suddenly Rhane wondered if this was what Lor Jastre had meant when he asked Shiya if she had an
unpleasant accident prepared for Rhane. Ifreskans were no myth, they were among the most intelligent,
savage predators on the known planets. With rising anger, he turned on Shiya, reached for her.
“Don’t move!”
Something in her voice penetrated his anger and he stood absolutely still.
“Slowly, very slowly, turn your face toward the rocks. You won’t see anything, but the reskans are
here.”
He did as he was told and at first saw nothing. Then the top of the nearest boulder leaped off and
landed less than a hand’s length from him, and Rhane found himself staring into the eyes of a Menx
reskan, the eyes of death—

I
Rhane examined the slender, long-fingered woman who stood so quietly within the pool of light just
outside his room. It was too late for a casual caller; nor was she dressed in the manner of Siolan women.
“How may I please you?” said Rhane, using the neutral words of Galactic Courtesy.
The woman’s elegant hands moved in a gesture of gratitude and, oddly, regret. When she spoke
aloud, it was in the language of Siol, his native planet.
“First Son’s First Son, I am Meriel. I would share images of the planet Menx.”
Rhane could not control the quick tensing of his body at hearing the name of Menx, deathplace of
two en Jacaroens. He examined the woman more closely, but neither her clothes nor her words revealed
her planet of origin.
“Images?” asked Rhane in unaccented Galactic, refusing the stranger’s offer of his native language.
“Yes.” The woman called Meriel almost smiled. “May I touch your hand, Rhane en Jacaroen, and
share images of Menx?”
The woman’s request was made in Siolan, couched as a petition from a member of the ruled class to
one of the rulers. An en Jacaroen could not refuse the request. Even so, Rhane hesitated, searching his
instincts for any sense of personal danger. His reluctance showed in the slowness with which he extended
his left hand.
Meriel's long, long fingers closed around Rhane’s wrist, and the world exploded into images of the
planet where Rhane’s father and half brother had died. He saw khi in bloom, a silver lake smoking in the
dawn, blue-black boulders holding up the empty sky, and his father’s eyes, yellow-gray, and Cezine’s
just gray. Menx. The sound of children’s laughter and the silence of death.
After the first overwhelming moment, Rhane realized that the images were his own memories of his
half brother’s young laughter and the silky feel of Shiya, alien Shiya, more alluring than any child had a
right to be. Cezine laughing, melting, dying. Dead.
 Rhane yanked free of the woman’s grasp. She did not resist, though his roughness must have hurt.
When she smiled, Rhane looked away, not wanting to see such sadness.
“Yes, you are Rhane en Jacaroen. You, too, have learned that Menx is another name for death.”
Meriel’s voice changed. She spoke in perfect High Galactic. “Forgive the intimacy, although I did warn
you.”
Rhane was too shaken to speak or even to examine the ramifications of the woman’s words. With an