"Jack Vance - The Languages of Pao" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vance Jack)

mechanisms. Below were rooms of general function paneled in dark board,
with floors of russet rock-melt, generally unoccupied except for Beran. At
the bottom, separated from the main chain of rooms, was a large circular
structure, which Beran eventually discovered to be Palafox's private
dormitory.
The house was austere and chilly, without devices of amusement or
ornament. No one heeded Beran; it was as if his very existence were
forgotten. He ate from a buffet in the central hall, he slept where and when
it suited him. He learned to recognize half a dozen men who seemed to
make Palafox's house their headquarters. Once or twice in the lower part of
the house he glimpsed a woman. No one spoke to him except Palafox, but
Beran saw him only rarely.
On Pao there was small distinction between the sexes; both wore similar
garments and enjoyed identical privileges. Here the differences were
emphasized. Men wore dark suits of close-fitting fabric and black skull-
caps with pointed bills. Those women whom Beran had glimpsed wore
flouncing skirts of gay colors--the only color to be seen on Breakness--tight
vests which left the midriff uncovered, slippers tinkling with bells. Their
heads were uncovered, their hair was artfully dressed; all were young and
handsome.
When he could tolerate the house no longer, Beran bundled himself into
warm garments and ventured out on the mountainside. He bent his head
into the wind and pushed to the east until he reached the verge of the
settlement, where the Wind River dwindled in mighty perspective. A mile
below were a half-dozen large structures: automatic fabrication plants.
Above reared the rock slope, far up to the gray sky, where the wild little
white sun swerved like a tin disc on the wind. Beran retraced his steps.
A week later he ventured forth again, and this time turned west with the
wind at his back. A lane melted from the rock wound and twisted among
 Curious! thought Beran. How unsmiling and silent they seemed.
Paonese lads would have been skipping and skylarking.
He found his way back to Palafox's manse, puzzling over the lack of
social intercourse on Breakness.
The novelty of life on the new planet had worn smooth; the pangs of
homesickness stabbed Beran hard. He sat on the settee in the hall tying
aimless knots in a bit of string. There was the sound of footsteps; Beran
looked up. Palafox entered the hall, began to pass through, then noticed
Beran and came to a halt. "Well, the young Panarch of Pao--why do you sit
so quietly?"
"I have nothing to do."
Palafox nodded. The Paonese were not ones to undertake gratuitously
any arduous intellectual program; and Palafox had intended that Beran
should become utterly bored, to provide incentive for the task.
"Nothing to do?" inquired Palafox, as if surprised. "Well, we must
remedy that." He appeared to cogitate. "If you are to attend the Institute,
you must learn the language of Breakness."
Beran was suddenly aggrieved. "When do I go back to Pao?" he asked
querulously.
Palafox shook his head solemnly. "I doubt if you'd wish to return at this
moment."