"Joanna Wylde - The Price of Pleasure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wylde Joanna)

Their conquerors certainly were strange, Calla thought, carrying her basket of linens
through the hostel’s narrow upper corridor. For such rowdy men, most were remarkably
clean. They had taken over Mistress Jenner’s Hostel when the station surrendered nearly
a month ago, yet during that time she hardly saw them. They spent much of their time
patrolling the station shipping docks and manufacturing plants, or running
reconnaissance trips through the asteroid belts. At least one was always on guard at each
of the hostel’s entrances, but Calla had never dared to even really look at them, let alone
engage them in conversation. They were large, heavily-armed men who seemed to take
their work very seriously.
They also took their play seriously. During the evenings she could hear them in the
hallways, although her owner would never have let her out where she could watch
them. Mistress Jenner was something of a religious fanatic, a member of the strict
“Pilgrims of the Apocalypse.” The Saurellians’ carousing was disgusting to her, and she
would never dream of allowing even a slave such as Calla to become polluted by their
presence.
Calla made her way through each of the rooms, changing linens and straightening
what little there was to straighten. They had very few personal possessions, so she
hadn’t gleaned much information about them in her cleaning. Usually she was able to
tell a great deal about the guests by what they left in their rooms.
The final room, at the end of the hall, was actually a small suite. According to Jess,
her best friend and crèche-brother, the squadron’s commander was staying here.
Mistress Jenner seemed to hate him more than all the other Saurellians combined. Calla
had heard her blame the man for everything from the recent rise in food costs to the
timing of transport take-offs, which caused a shudder to run through the entire space
station. Last week, Jenner had spilled hot tea all over her hands during a rough launch.
According to Jenner, the commander was the most disgustingly licentious Saurellian
of them all. He even had pleasure workers spend the night with him at the hostel and
hosted parties in his suite, something which never would have happened if they weren’t
under martial law. Mistress Jenner wasn’t brave enough to stand up to their conquerors,
but there was no question as to what her opinion about them was.
She believed they were evil, pure and simple. Not that she had held a much higher
opinion of the Imperial troops, of course. As far as Calla could tell, the only people
Mistress Jenner actually liked were her fellow Pilgrims. Given the choice between
accepting Saurellian money or being turned out of her own home, however, Mistress
Jenner had opted to take the money.
When she reached the suite’s door, Calla didn’t bother to knock before placing her
hand against the palm plate to open it. There was never anyone there during the day,
anyway. As she walked in, she banged her basket on the door frame, dropping several
towels on the floor. Carefully balancing the large basket against her small, compact
frame, she knelt down, reaching for the towels.
The action was just enough to loosen the knot dark brown hair at her nape, and the
entire mass of unruly curls came off her head and down before her eyes. She fought with
it for a few seconds, then gave into the inevitable and set down the basket. She’d have to
braid it to get it out of the way now, she thought with disgust. She hated doing that,
because braids, combined with her youthful features and the smattering of freckles
across her nose, always made her look like a 12-year-old. Not that she had anybody to
impress, anyway, so it really didn’t matter she reminded herself wryly.
As she braided the long mass with swift fingers, she heard a sound come from the