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

melodious tinkling, artificial breezes stirring artificial fronds.
Statues stood staring with blind eyes, figures of men and women
fashioned from the glazed and colored sand, the fused material,
depicting scenes of torment and lust, of gaiety and wild abandon.
A man, head thrown back, mouth open, hands clutching his
ripped abdomen, screamed in an endless, silent agony. Two
women locked in a compulsive embrace stared unseeingly at
another impaled on a cone of milky crystal who screamed
wordlessly at a crucified man who stared bleakly at a couple
writhing in frozen ecstasy.

Statues by the hundred set in groups and lined array in the
area which circumnavigated the central bulk of the area.

Dumarest looked at it, seeing the high, colonnaded wall, the
arched gates and porticoes, the paths leading to the entrances.
Worn stone and polished benches all showing the passage of use
and time.

"What now, Earl?" Santis scowled as he looked around, The
mercenary was no stranger to the forms of diversion always to be
found in any civilized area but had never found them to his taste.
To fight according to the rules and customs of war was one
thing, to demean the brain and courage of a man was another.
And no mercenary could have avoided seeing the degradation of
which humans were capable. "This place stinks!"
 Of sweat and fear and blood and exudations of pain and lust.
Of greed and riches and abject poverty. Of desperation. To
Dumarest they were familiar smells.

He said, "Among other things the crone told me they played
Find the Jester here. She didn't lie."

Kemmer was impatient. "Well?"

"It gives us a chance to build up a stake. Carl, you handle the
bets. Maurice, you back his play. I'll act as a block." Dumarest
stared around, noticing small groups clustered between the
statues, seeing one newly forming. "There! Let's move in fast!"

A man stood behind a narrow board, three cards in his hands,
his voice a drone. "Find the jester and pick up double what you
put down. Three cards, you see? A deuce, another deuce and a
jester. I throw them down—so. Make your bets!"

His moves had been clumsy, the position of the jester obvious
to all. A man standing at the end of the board, obviously drunk,
slammed down a handful of coins and turned, coughing. Calmly
the dealer moved the selected card, the jester, and exchanged it
for one of the deuces. No one made a comment—who was to