Roger Taylor - Arash-Felloren
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- Название:Arash-Felloren
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He seemed to regret this last remark almost immediately and glanced quickly from side to side, as if even the mention of the Kyrosdyn had brought a malign influence into The Wyndering.
‘Find out more,’ Dvolci’s whistled instruction was urgent.
‘What do you mean, powers?’ Atlon asked bluntly.
The man gave him a startled look.
‘It’s not important,’ Atlon added hastily. ‘I was just curious. I’ve seen all sorts of strange things in my travels, and heard some odd tales, but they all usually come down to trickery and craft in the end. Are you all right? I didn’t mean to alarm you.’
The man bridled slightly. ‘You didn’t alarm me,’ he said, a touch too loudly. ‘But it’s not something that’s talked about a lot. The Kyrosdyn certainly don’t like it. They always deny everything, play the innocent, the injured party. But everyone knows they meddle in things they shouldn’t. They’re queer things, crystals.’
The man fell silent. Though anxious to pursue the topic, Atlon sensed that nothing was to be gained by pressing him. Reluctantly he drew the man back to his original topic.
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘Hypocrites. You can find them anywhere. The kind that wouldn’t be seen at your fighting pits, but who’d have someone there making money for them.’ He winked significantly.
The man nodded a confirmation but still seemed to be unsettled by the talk about the Kyrosdyn. The general hubbub of the room came into the awkward silence between them. Atlon was loath to lose this first tenuous contact with the crystal trade. ‘Tell me more about these pits,’ he said, setting aside his distaste and affecting enthusiasm. ‘What kind of animals fight there? Not felcis, surely.’
‘No,’ the man replied, looking relieved. ‘Never seen anything like him before.’ His confidence began to seep back. ‘Mainly it’s like on like – cocks, dogs, cats, horses – fads come and go. But there’re no rules – it’s whatever the owners agree. In fact, a good mixed fight usually attracts a lot of attention.’
‘And thus money,’ Atlon added.
‘Exactly,’ the man replied, fully himself again. He pointed at Dvolci. ‘You see, an animal like that – not big, not fierce-looking and, if I’m any judge after seeing him with that dog, not keen on fighting more than he has to – can do well for his owner. You’d be able to take him from pit to pit and make a lot of money before his reputation got widely known.’
Atlon could not think how to continue the conversation. The man misunderstood his silence. When he spoke again, his tone was almost reverential. ‘Of course, if you’re interested in real fighting – and real betting – you have to go to one of the Loose Pits.’
Atlon looked at him blandly.
‘There’s everything there,’ the man went on, taking Atlon’s continued silence as a question. ‘All the animals that no one will challenge in the ordinary pits.’ His voice fell. ‘And some things the like of which you’d be hard-pressed to dream about. Terrible things. Things that might have been wolves or bears or worse once, but certainly aren’t now.’
Atlon did not need Dvolci’s softly whistled urging. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
Once again, the man looked about him. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. ‘You need to see them to understand. Some say that the Kyrosdyn have actually made these things, but I’ve heard it said that they’re bred from creatures which have been found in the lower depths.’ He pointed a curled finger downwards. ‘You know… in the caves.’ He almost mouthed the words. ‘Lower even than the old tunnels.’
Atlon leaned back. Suddenly he felt very cold. He had countless questions that he wanted to ask, but knew that this man could not answer them even if he had been willing to. ‘This city sounds very interesting,’ he managed to say. ‘Lots of opportunities for an enterprising man.’ He laid his hand on Dvolci.
‘With the right kind of guide,’ the man suggested.
‘Indeed.’ Atlon pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. ‘As I said, I’m on a journey for some friends – travelling south. But it’s not urgent, while my need for work is.’
The man smiled broadly. ‘Work’s the refuge of a desperate man.’ He flicked a thumb at Dvolci. ‘My name’s not Irgon Rinter if good money isn’t to be made by putting that in the pits.’
Atlon shook his head and pushed his plate to one side. ‘I’d need to think about that. I’ve been a long time alone and he’s been good company. I’m very fond of him. I couldn’t throw him into a pit full of those creatures you were talking about.’
The man held up his hands in denial. ‘There’s no question of that,’ he said quickly. ‘To make money in the ordinary pits you try to remain unknown. But to get into the Loose Pits it’s just the opposite. You have to make yourself well known – fight your way up – get a reputation. There’s no money to be made betting on what happens when you just throw a cat to the wolves, is there? And fighter though he might be, he wouldn’t stand a chance against some of the things in the Loose Pits.’
He looked at Atlon narrowly for a moment, then held out his hand. ‘Your name, stranger?’
Atlon took the hand and introduced both himself and Dvolci.
Rinter reached across as if to stroke the felci, then catching Dvolci’s eye, changed his mind. ‘Odd kind of a name,’ he said, with a nervous laugh. ‘But then he’s an odd kind of a creature, isn’t he?’
‘Odd kind of a creature!’
Atlon winced as Dvolci ground his teeth violently and repeated the phrase yet again.
‘You told me to find out about him,’ Atlon protested. ‘And he’s pointed us to the crystal trade. He could be useful.’
‘Yes, yes, yes. I know,’ Dvolci replied irritably. He ground his teeth again and returned to his diatribe. ‘What kind of a creature is it that makes other animals fight just for the spectacle? A human, that’s what. I should’ve torn his blathering head off.’
Atlon knew from experience that there was little point in attempting to stem Dvolci’s onslaught on the character of Rinter and, consequently, humanity in general, but he could not resist a jibe. ‘I thought you didn’t approve of fighting.’
The felci glowered at him, then raised a paw to strike an arbitrary blow at the end of the bed. ‘Don’t damage the furniture,’ Atlon cried hastily. ‘We’re hardly in favour with Ghreel as it is and I’ve no desire to be thrown out of here until we’ve got some more money from somewhere.’
Dvolci blew a violent raspberry, then for no apparent reason ran round the room five times, recklessly bounding over anything that got in his way.
‘Have you finished?’ Atlon asked unnecessarily when he finally came to a halt.
Dvolci shook his head violently, sat on his haunches and began to scratch himself.
‘Sorry,’ he said, after a moment. He looked straight at Atlon. ‘I don’t think you’ve any idea what a difficult species you are to live with.’ His voice was calm and assured now.
Atlon did not argue the point.
‘Bad taste in your mouth again?’ he asked gently.
‘My own fault. I shouldn’t get so angry. Especially about humans. And it’s not as if I didn’t know what you’re like at your worst, is it?’
‘It’s not as if both of us didn’t know,’ Atlon added.
Dvolci jumped up on to the stone sink and began working the handle energetically. When the water started to flow he took several large mouthfuls, gargled noisily and then spat them out. He shook himself vigorously, sending a fine spray of water in all directions.
‘We go with him, though?’ Atlon asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Dvolci replied without hesitation. ‘If the reality of his life matches his gossip, we should learn some interesting things, moving in his circles.’
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