"Mike Resnick - Eros Descending" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

“Very well behaved, too,” she continued. “Especially considering how strange his surroundings must
seem to him.” The Steel Butterfly stroked Secretariat's long, arching neck. “You know, I've never seen a
horse before.”

“Not too many people in the Deluros system have,” said the groom. “They're mostly confined to Earth
and some of the other worlds out toward the Rim.”

“When did he run?”

“You mean the first time he lived? Oh, maybe a couple of thousand years ago.”

She stared at the colt in awe. “And people still remember him? Amazing!”

“He was one of the ones,” said the groom. “I've had the Australian Eclipse from the twenty-second
century, and Hawkmaster from the twenty-sixth, but I'd have to say that he's the best I've ever rubbed
down.”

The Steel Butterfly smiled. “I wish I'd had the same quality in the animalsI've rubbed down.”

“You've rubbed animals?” asked the groom, mildly surprised.

“Thousands of them,” she replied, then added with a wry grimace: “Mostly men.”

The groom merely stared at her, then looked past her to a corridor. “We've got company,” he said.

“I knew it was too good to last,” she muttered, turning in the direction he had indicated.

Two men, one speaking with great animation, the other listening with an expression of distaste and
boredom, were approaching the storage area. The shorter one was a bit overweight, but carefully and
expensively dressed to hide the fact, or at least diminish its effect. His artificial hair glowed all the colors
of the rainbow, and his fingers were so laden with rings that they seemed more jewel than flesh.
Nonetheless, the Steel Butterfly's eyes were drawn to the conservatively dressed taller man, whose
carriage and manner seemed to reflect an easy confidence and an aura of authority. His lean face was
austere and craggy, the features sharp and finely chiseled. His straight black hair was edged with gray,
and his hands were starting to spot with age, but there was a spring to his step that made him appear
younger than his fifty-plus years.

“Ah, there you are!” said Gustave Plaga, extending a ring-covered hand in the Steel Butterfly's direction,
but stopping some ten feet short of her. “I had a feeling we'd find you here.” He gestured ingratiatingly
toward the taller man. “May I present the Reverend Thomas Gold?”

“I've seen you so often on the video I feel as if I know you personally, Reverend Gold,” said the Steel
Butterfly.

Gold smiled tightly. “A simpleDoctor Gold will do,” he replied. “Mr. Plaga tells me that you're the
manager of this establishment.”

“The madam,” the Steel Butterfly corrected him.