"Timothy Zahn - The Icarus Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

get
mauled. Fortunately, that was no longer a problem. The left side of the
entryway
was now free territory; stepping over the downed Yavanne, I passed through the
entryway and into the taverno.
There was a small ripple of almost-applause, which quickly evaporated as those
involved belatedly remembered that there were still two Yavanni left on their
feet. I wasn't expecting any more trouble from them myself, but just the same
I
kept an eye on their reflection in the brass chandelier domes as I made my way
through the maze of tables and chairs. There was an empty table in the back,
comfortably close to the homey log fireplace that dominated that wall, and I
sat
down with my back to the crackling flames. As I did so, I was just in time to
see the two undamaged Yavanni help their unsteady colleague out into the
night.
"Buy you a drink, sir?"
I turned my head. A medium-sized man with dark skin stood in the dim light to
the right of my table, a half-full mug in his hand, a thick thatch of white
hair
shimmering in the firelight. "I'm not interested in company right now," I
said,
punching up a small vodkaline on the table's menu selector. I wasn't
interested
in drinking, either, but that little fracas with the Yavanni had drawn enough
attention to me as it was, and sitting there without a glass in my hand would
only invite more curiosity.
"I appreciate what you did over there," the man commented, pulling out the
chair
opposite me and sitting down as if he'd been invited to do so. "I've been
stuck
here half an hour waiting for them to go away. Bit of a risky move, though,
wasn't it? At the very least, you could have broken a couple of knuckles."
For a moment I gazed across the table at him, at that dark face beneath that
shock of white hair. From the age lines in his skin he clearly had spent a lot
of his life out in the sun; from the shape of the musculature beneath his
jacket
he hadn't spent that time lounging around in beach chairs. "Not all that
risky,"
I told him. "Yavanni don't get that really thick skin of theirs until
adulthood.
Kids that age are still pretty soft in spots. You just have to know where
those
spots are."
He nodded, eyes dropping momentarily to the ship patch with its stylized "SB"
on
the shoulder of my faded black-leather jacket. "You deal a lot with aliens?"
"A fair amount," I said. "My partner's one, if that helps any."
"What do you mean, if it helps any?"
The center of the table opened up and my vodkaline appeared. "If it helps you