"Steve Perry - The Man Who Never Missed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

large chest against one wall; no other furniture.

"Pubtending? Are you serious?"

Pen laughed from within the folds of his gray shroud. 'To be sure," he said.
"One must make a living."

Khadaji had a little trouble picturing Pen behind a bar, or window, mixing
drinks and dispensing tablets. He said as much.

"Ah, but it is a perfect job for a priest, even one so un-priestly as I.
Consider: who has a better opportunity to see people with their masks lowered
than a pubtender? Men will confide things to you drunk they wouldn't tell a
brother when sober; stoned women will reveal secrets they'd never speak as
pillow talk while straight. More than one pubtender has come from the ranks of
practicing psychologists-or gone there from some bar."

Khadaji shook his head. "I don't know...."

Pen waved one hand. "What's to know? You'll have to do something to feed
yourself-I won't be around forever. A top-ranked pubtender can always get a
job and as I said, there are few places better to study the human condition.
More, it's a skill I can teach you."

Khadaji stood and walked to the plastic window. He touched a control on the
sill and the window shifted from near black to clear. The light was too
bright, bringing a blast of reflectled heat with it. He darkened the window
again. "Somehow, it doesn't seem exactly what I had in mind."

"And what did you have in mind?"

Khadaji turned to look at Pen. "I-I don't know. Something. ..."

"Ah. I see. Well, until you figure out what, precisely, perhaps it would be
wise to learn what is available."

Khadaji considered it. Pen was right. He only had vagueness where he felt he
should have some plan. Pubtending? It was as good as anything, he supposed.
And easy enough, he figured.

He was wrong about how easy it would be. He found that out quickly.

Pen stood and walked to the comp terminal. He removed a small steel marble
from his robe and held it out so Khadaji could see it. Khadaji recognized the
ball as a recording sphere, a storage device for information. Though the
sphere was small, it would hold several hundred volumes of hard copy.

"This contains seventeen years of experience as a pub-tender," Pen said.
"Every drink I know how to mix, every chem, planetary and local laws regarding
dispensing, favorites on different worlds, everything. Cross-referenced,