"Michael Scott Rohan - Chase the Morning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rohan Michael Scott)

subtle, by their lights.'
'Daj. Let's hope they not learrning brains. But why so much trouble?
What's in that warrehouse, anyhow?'
'Just the usual.' Jyp sounded puzzled. 'A few old loads that've lain
there months now, and the stuff out of the Iskander, docked this morning from
out West. Nothing unusual in that. Black lotus for Patchie's, a couple of
gross merhorse skins that Mendoza's shipped up from Te Arahoa on spec and died
on the market. A load of flamewood planks for the trade, indigo, peppers and
coffee from Huy Brazeal, auk down - twenty bales of it! - and a few tons of
dried Conqueror Root and Night-eye for the shops on Damballah Alley. Not the
sort of stuff a man can pilfer to any profit; it'd take more'n three to carry
off any worthwhile pickings. There was a load of black-devil rum, fifty
hogsheads, but Sutler Dick picked that up not four hours after it come in.'
'Maybe nobody tells the Volfs,' puffed Myrko.
'Maybe ...' echoed Jyp, but he didn't sound convinced. I was just about
to ask him what all those daft-sounding commodities were meant to be when
Katjka distracted me - with a vengeance. I jerked rigid with agony, and all
but kicked over the table. It felt exactly as if, having cleaned the wound off
gently, she'd suddenly pulled it sharply open, sunk her teeth in it and sucked
hard. I looked down and saw that that was exactly what she had done. What's
more, she was still doing it. I sank back trembling, unable to speak, and saw
Jyp grinning at me.
'Could be dirt in the wound, remember? Filthy things, Wolf blades, you never
know. That's how Katjka's folk deal with it, and I can vouch for it working,
b'lieve me. Mind you, they're all vampires in her corner of the world,
anyhow!'
Katjka looked up, and spat my blood accurately onto his trousers, which
looked like glossy leather; he wiped it off with a snort.
'The company you keep, you shouldn't be so high and mighty, pylot! Not
too painful now, no, my Stefan?'
I managed a grin of sorts, as she picked up the slivovitz bottle and
began to wash the wound with the blazing spirit. 'Can't think of anyone I'd
rather be eaten by,' I managed, and she giggled.
'Especially marinado? Okay! Then I put a little more salve on this, so,
and bandage it up, and in a day or so you are right as rain - all right, dajT
I breathed out hard, and managed half a smile. Jyp handed me the bottle,
but I shook my head. 'Thanks, but I've had enough. Got to drive home.'
'With that arm? Think you'll be all right? Better you doss down here for
the night. Try Myrko's robber steak, with french fries and a demi of old Vara
Orsino - put hair on your chest and lead in your pencil, that! And for your
afters a tumble with Katjka - set you up a wonder, she will! And you give him
the very best, you hear, lass, the real sailor's holiday! My treat, right?
It's Wolf-meat I'd be if it wasn't for my old mate Steve -'
I blinked a bit and stole a glance at Katjka. Jyp's casually commercial
attitude didn't seem to bother her, if anything it flattered her. 'Well ...' I
said, and she turned those large grey eyes on me. I had a suspicion they'd
stripped many a seaman of his inhibitions, if nothing worse. But I reached for
my shirt.
Tou're not goink? she enquired in hurt disbelief. It was obviously a
routine line, but she seemed to mean it. Or was that the routine as well? But