"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Un Bel Di" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

"I am sorry to say that we have not yet discovered their reproductive mechanism. They are probably
ovoviviparous." He moved uncomfortably, knowing how far he had stepped beyond the bounds of
allowable ceremony. It was also a blot to his record that he knew so little about the people he lived with.

At this Klin Navbe all but laughed. So there was a mystery, was there? That made for a challenge. And
this sniveling diplomat had not found it out. "Probably?" He was scornful, but not so much as to
discourage the Ambassador from talking. As all others of his status, Navbe despised the Representative
status. Yet there was a chance that his host knew the reason for his temporary exile, and he dared not
put himself in a compromising position with such a person.

"As I have told you, we cannot do the tests. We lack the full authorization to do so. I do not know how
we shall function if we are not properly authorized."

"Precisely." What was this fool's familial name? Lesh? Yes, Ambassador Lesh. He wanted the authority
to proceed with tests, and Navbe could give him that authorization. Plans blossomed in his mind.

It was perhaps fortunate that the Meditation Bell rang the summons to the Third Cycle just then; it
provided cover for the awkwardness between the two officials. Their Janif formality asserted itself, and
they strode silently down the hall together.

When they had completed their ritual exercises, Navbe put Ambassador Lesh at his ease with that
age-old question beloved of off-planet Janif officialdom: "How did you come to serve on Papill,
Ambassador?" And he masked his boredom at the too-familiar tale of a diplomat's career.




·····


In the long twilight the two Janif sat together on the terrace listening to the distant Night Song of the Papi.
In the valley below Ambassador Lesh's estates the waning light shifted, slid, and was gone, and the soft
white fogs followed the shadows to wrap the valley in sleep. On the ridges the tasseled, angular trees
sighed in the wind, their hard thin leaves clicking endlessly above the fog.
"A beautiful place, Lesh, even with just the two stars. It is like a children's story." Navbe watched the
valley's soft change, dreaming absently of violated children and the strange Papi, intense pleasure hidden
in the formal set of his face. He had picked a flower and was stroking it with the extending sensors of his
thumbs. "You are to be envied, Ambassador—to be surrounded by all this loveliness."

"I have thought so myself," said the Ambassador in an unbecoming burst of familiarity.

Navbe ignored the solecism. "And the Papi are such pretty people. So delicate. Not like those creatures
on Tlala or Isnine. You have beauty here, and tractable natives."

The Ambassador, lulled by the Undersecretary's flow of remarkable condescensions and innocuous
questions, was betrayed into elaborating on the Papi. "They are a gentle people. It is of great importance
to them that they bring delight to their neighbors. It is unfortunate that they do not recognize the laxness of
their social order, but their errors are charming. They have made almost a religion of their kindness. Over
the years I have observed their spirit of self-sacrifice." He became aware of his blunder. "But it is nearly