"Andre Norton - Dark Companion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

"You ought to be sure of supplies," I ventured. He had turned to reach for the bag I still held. Now he
smiled.

"Very well. Assure yourself, come in—"

I accepted that invitation, though I guessed he would rather be alone. Only I knew Beltane now as he
did not. I would have to leave in the hopper, and he would be, could be, disastrously on his
own—marooned here.

He led the way straight down the hall to a door at the rear, raising his hand to pass it in a swift, decisive
gesture over the plate set into its surface. That triggered the opening, and we stood on the edge of a gray
shaft. Lugard did take precautions there, tossing his kit bag out. It floated gently, descending very slowly.
Seeing that, he calmly followed it. I had to force myself after him, my suspicions of old installations being
very near the surface.

We descended two levels, and I sweated out that trip, only too sure that at any minute the cushioning
would fail, to dash us on the floor below. But our boots met the surface with hardly a hint of a jar, and
we were in the underground storeroom of the hold. I saw in the subdued glow shrouded machines.
Perhaps I had been wrong to think Lugard would miss transportation when I left. But he was turning to
the right and some alcoved spaces, where there were containers and cases.

"You see—I am well provided for." He nodded at that respectable array.

I looked around. There were weapon racks to the left, but they had been stripped bare. Lugard had
gone past me to pull the covering off one of the machines. The plastic folds fell away from a digger, its
pointed pick nose depressed to rest tip against the surface under us. My first hopes of a command flitter,
or something like it, faded. Perhaps, just as the weapon racks had been stripped, so had such transports
been taken.

Lugard turned away from the digger, and there was a new briskness about him.

"Have no doubts, Vere. I am well situated here." His tone was enough to send me to the grav, and this
time he signaled reverse, so we rose to the entrance hall. I was on my way to the door when he stopped
me.

"Vere—?"

"Yes?" I turned. He was looking at me as if he were hesitant to say what was in his mind, and I had the
impression that he fought to break through some inner reserve.

"If you find your way up here again, look in." It could not be termed a warm invitation; yet, coming from
him, I knew that it was as cordial a one as I would ever have, and it was honestly and deeply meant.

"I will that," I promised.

He stood in the doorway, a light sundown wind stirring up the drifted sand, driving some of it over the
threshold to grit in the bare hallway, to watch me go. I deliberately circled once as I left and waved, to
see his hand raised shoulder high in return.

Then I headed to Kynvet, leaving the last of Beltane's soldiers in his chosen retreat. Somehow I disliked