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

sign. The tattoo of a Breakness wizard!"
The words seemed to arouse Bustamonte. He glared in accusation at
Aiello, gave Palafox a look of loathing, then glowered down at the carved
ivory of the table.
You are correct," said Aiello. "This is Lord Palafox, Dominie of
Breakness Institute."
Sigil Paniche bowed his head frigidly. "Will Your Supremacy allow me
a question?"
"Ask what you will."
"What does Lord Palafox do here on Pao?"
Aiello said blandly, "He came at my behest. I need expert advice.
Certain of my confidants"--he glanced rather contemptuously toward
 Sigil Paniche made a great effort. I urge you to reconsider. In no way
have we cheated you. We delivered exactly what was ordered. Mercantil
has served you well in the past--we hope to serve you in the future. If you
deal with Breakness, think what the bargain entails!"
"I have made no bargains with Lord Palafox," said Aiello, with a swift
glance toward the man in brown and gray.
"Ah, but you will--and, if I may speak openly..." He waited.
"Speak," said Aiello.
"...to your eventual dismay." He became emboldened. "Never forget,
Supremacy, that they build no weapons on Breakness. They make no
application of their science." He looked to Palafox. "Is this not true?"
"Not altogether," replied Palafox. "A Dominie of the Institute is never
without his weapons."
"And Breakness manufactures weapons for export?" Paniche persisted.
"No," answered Palafox with a slight smile. "It is well known that we
manufacture only knowledge and men."
Sigil Paniche turned to Aiello. "Only weapons can guard you against the
fury of the Brumbos. Why not examine, at least, some of our new
products?"
"This can do no harm," Bustamonte urged. "And perhaps we will not
require Palafox after all."
Aiello turned him a peevish glance, but Sigil Paniche already was
displaying a globe-shaped projector with a hand grip. "This is one of our
most ingenious developments."
The Medallion Beran, watching in absorption, felt a sudden quiver, a
pang of indescribable alarm. Why? How? What? He must leave the
pavilion, he must go! But he could not move from his seat.
Paniche was directing his tool toward the pink marble dome. "Observe,
if you will." The top half of the room went black, as if concealed by a black
shutter, as if snatched from existence. "The device seeks out, attracts and
 Help, doctor! cried Bustamonte. To the Panarch!
Aiello's fists beat a spasmodic tattoo on the tabletop; his eyes went dim,
his head fell forward in the complete lassitude of death.
which, as regent for the new Panarch, he might be expected to employ. He
waved his hand; a squad of Mamarone leapt to stations surrounding the
pavilion.
"None will leave," declared Bustamonte, "until these tragic
circumstances are clarified." He turned to the doctors. "Have you