"Lawrence Watt-Evans - War Surplus 01 - The Cyborg And The Sorcerers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

"Tur? I never heard of it Where does it lie?"

Remembering that he was near the eastern edge of the continent, Slant answered, "To the west."

"I know of no such place, and I think I would remember such a short, odd name. Is it this side of
Praunce?"

"No, it's beyond Praunce." He was improvising desperately; it seemed advisable to locate his supposed
home as far away as possible. He wished the man weren't so interested in where he came from.

"I was unaware that there are any inhabited lands beyond Praunce."

Slant shrugged.

"How did you come here, then, if your home is so distant?"

"I walked. I am a wanderer, of no fixed abode." He recalled this last phrase from enemy documents he
had read long ago; without that he would not have been able to remember an appropriate word.

"A wanderer? What sort of wanderer? What do you call yourself?" The warrior's voice held a note of
distrust; Slant guessed that people did not travel much in this society.

"I am called Slant. I go where I please, for I have no family or possessions, and I was weary of Tur." The
words were beginning to come more easily now, and he could hear for himself that the name of his
imaginary home didn't fit the language well.

"What's that thing you're holding?" The horseman pointed at the submachine gun.

Slant shrugged. "I don't know; I found it in the forest and thought it might be valuable."

"Let me see it." He held out a hand.

Hiding his reluctance, Slant handed over the weapon; the computer silently warned him, "Surrender is not
permitted," as he relinquished it

A slight tension came over him, and he replied silently, "Shut up! I'm not surrendering; he just wants to
look at the gun. He doesn't know it's a weapon, he's just curious." He struggled to keep his outward
appearance calm. "If I were surrendering I'd give him my knife, wouldn't I?" He knew that the computer
would kill him if it decided he was surrendering; he hoped that the horseman would not ask for his knife.

The man did not ask for the knife; he studied the submachine gun, turning it over in his hands, being
careful not to work any of the mechanisms.-Finally he looked up from it and asked, "Where did you find
it?"

"Back that way." Slant pointed vaguely off to the southwest

"It looks like some of the relics at Setharipoor; I'd be very careful of it if I were you. One of those relics
destroyed half a museum a few years back; old magic, very dangerous stuff." He handed the gun back
and Slant accepted it gratefully, with a polite nod of his head. His relief was not outwardly evident as he
told the computer, "See? I wasn't surrendering."