"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 20 - Web of Sand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

And those watching would be eager for her to cut feet and
legs, more interested in the spectacle of blood rather than a
display of art. Ellain lifted the goblet and drank the last of the
wine. The sting of alcohol would lull her precision a little but only
an expert would notice the loss of purity. Those she had been
ordered to entertain would be more interested in her body than
her voice. The scarlet gown, then? The color would accentuate
that of her hair or, no, it would be better to complement it rather
than provide a match. Green, then? Or the tunic of gold which
gave full revealment to her legs? Or something simple yet
enticing in dusty black?

"Ellain?"

"I was thinking, trying to decide what to wear at your party. It
is a party?"

"More of an assembly. A few friends to discuss certain matters
of mutual interest. You will provide a diversion."

The black then, the bodice arranged so as to display her
bosom, the skirt adjusted to show her thigh through the slit—old
tricks which twisted her lips in a reminiscent smile. How old
Teen Veroka, her music teacher and singing master, would have
raved at such a blatant display. But he was on another world,
probably dead by now, and she had long since learned the value
of such exhibitionism. But to dress well she needed a maid.

Yunus shrugged when she mentioned it. "You have a maid. A
new girl."
 "A clumsy fool. What does she know of how to dress hair? To
arrange a gown? What happened to Julie?" She saw his face turn
blank in the fading mirror of the window. "Never mind. You will
find someone capable? I want to look my best for your friends."

"I shall attend to it."

"And after the assembly? You mentioned entertainment."

He smiled, knowing her needs, his voice a purr to match the
amber of his eyes as, leaning close, he whispered in her ear.

"Anything you wish, my darling. Men stripped and sweating
as they wrestle for a prize. Others pounding at each other with
metal gloves? Women wagering their skill against a score of
rodents." Pausing, he let the images build. "Blood and pain," he
whispered. "The arena?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes!"