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

exception. Another manifestation of this ancient caution could be found in
the three Mamarone standing vigilant behind Aiello. These were enormous
creatures tattoed dead-black--neutraloids. They wore magnificent turbans
of cerise and green, tight pantaloons of the same colors, chest emblems of
white silk and silver, and carried shields of refrax to be locked in front of
the Panarch in the event of danger.
Aiello morosely nibbled his way through the meal and finally indicated
that he was ready to conduct the business of the day.
Vilnis Therobon, wearing the ocher and purple of Public Welfare, arose
and came to stand before the Panarch. He stated his problem: the cereal
farmers of the South Impland savannahs were beset by drought; he,
Therobon, wished to bring water from across the Central Impland
Nonamand, the bleak southern continent. In addition, all infants arriving to
parents with more than two children should be subaqueated. These were the
classical methods of population control; they would be accepted without
resentment.
Young Beran watched with fascination, awed by the vastness of his
father's power. He was seldom allowed to witness state business, for Aiello
disliked children and showed only small concern for the upbringing of his
son. Recently the Ayudor Bustamonte had interested himself in Beran,
talking for hours on end, until Beran's head grew heavy and his eyes
drooped. They played odd games which bewildered Beran and left with
him a peculiar uneasiness. And of late there had been blank spaces in his
mind, lapses of memory.
As Beran sat now at the ivory table in the pavilion, he held a small
unfamiliar object in his hand. He could not recall where he had found it, but
it seemed as if there were something he must do. He looked at his father,
and felt a sudden hot panic. Bustamonte was looking at him, frowning.
Beran felt awkward and pulled himself erect in his chair. He must watch
and listen, as Bustamonte had instructed him. Furtively, he inspected the
object he held in his hand. It was at once familiar and strange. As if in
recollection from a dream, he knew he had use for his object--and again
came the wave of panic.
He tasted a bit of toasted fish-tail, but as usual lacked appetite. He felt
the brush of eyes; someone was watching him. Turning his head, he met the
gaze of the stranger in brown and gray. The man had an arresting face, long
and thin with a high forehead, a wisp of mustache, a nose like the prow of a
ship. His hair was glossy black, thick and short as fur. His eyes were set
deep; his gaze, dark and magnetic, awoke all of Beran's uneasiness. The
object in his hand felt heavy and hot. He wanted to fling it down, but could
not.
The last man to be heard was Sigil Paniche, business representative
whispered more urgently; Aiello turned him a slow caustic side-glance.
Bustamonte sat back sullenly.
At a signal from Aiello, the captain of the Mamarone guard addressed
the table in his soft scraped-steel voice. "By the Panarch's order, all those
who have completed their business will depart."
Across the table, only Sigil Paniche, his two aides, and the stranger in
brown and gray remained.
The Mercantile moved to a chair opposite Aiello; he bowed, seated