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

such a man as you and willing to pay for her pleasure. I can tell
you where such are to be found. Rich women from the upper
levels and generous if satisfied. Come, sit, cross my palm with
silver and let's begin."

Kemmer grunted. "Why waste money? The woman is a fraud."

Her eyes were sharp. "A fraud, am I? Trader, who has cheated
the most? Dare you let me tell your friends how you came to
leave home?"

"Guesswork." Santis shrugged. "I could do as well."

"Which is why you are so rich, mercenary. So well supplied
with food and wine and willing women. So respected. So much in
demand." Her laughter rose, thin, brittle. The odors of rancid
grease and pungent spices strengthened as she lifted an arm and
pointed at Dumarest. "You, my pretty, come and sit with me.
Last night I had a dream and you fit the vision. A man dressed in
gray with a look on his face which woke me screaming. A dire
omen and you would be a fool to ignore it."

And perhaps a bigger fool to yield to her blandishments, but
Dumarest, wise in the ways of carnival, sensed more than the
others. The crone was trying too hard and how had she known
Kemmer was a trader? The mercenary was obvious but the other
could only have been a shrewd guess. And, if nothing else, she
could tell him things useful to know.

The booth was small, decorated with gaudy symbols, the
devices painted on the ubiquitous fused sand. A table bore a
crystal ball, the surface scratched and dull. The cloth beneath
was stained, frayed and torn in a few places. The chairs were of
thin metal designed to be folded for portability. Incense fumed
from a metal pot and hung in an odorous cloud beneath the
ceiling.

As he sat the old woman held her hand before him, palm
uppermost. Silently she watched as he dropped coins into the
grimed cup.

Quietly he said, "I'm no gull, mother. Don't waste your time
feeding me a line of rich wantons or hidden treasure. I've grafted
in my time and know the angles. Just answer a few questions
and be honest. A deal?"

Her hand closed over the coins. "Don't be too clever, my
friend. And don't be too mistrustful. I have the power. Give me
your hand." She took it, spreading the fingers and crouched
brooding over the palm. A stained nail traced lines, halted at