JК
Isle Of The Dead :: Zelazny Roger
Страница: 88 из 110"
"I was not speaking of myself. You know that I am wealthy, and that a Pei'an does not abandon his vengeance for any reason. --No. I was thinking of Mike Shandon. He is of your race, and may also believe that everything has a price. As I recall it, he incurred your disfavor in the first place because he needed money and did things that offended you in order to obtain it. Now he hates you because you sent him to prison and then killed him. But since he is of your race, which places a monetary value upon all things, perhaps you might pay him sufficient money for his _pai'badra_ so that he will be satisfied and go away."
Buy our way out? The thought hadn't occurred to me. I had come to Illyria ready to fight with a Pei'an menace. Now I held him in my hand and he was no longer a menace. An Earthman had replaced him as my number one enemy of the moment, and there was a possibility that this assessment was correct. We are a venal lot, not necessarily moreso than all of the other races--but certainly more than some. It had been Shandon's expensive tastes that had gotten him into a bind in the first place. Things had happened quickly since my arrival on Illyria, and strangely enough--for me and my Tree--it had not occurred to me that my money might be my salvation.
On the other hand, considering Shandon's record as a spender--a thing brought out at the first trial and at the appellate level--he went through money like a _betta splendens_ through that most liquid of all aichemical elements. Say I gave him a half million in universal credit drafts. Anybody else could invest it and live on the dividends. He would go through it in a couple years. Then I would have problems again. He would have hit me this once, and he would figure he could do it again. And of course I could come through again. I could come through any time. So maybe he would not want to kill his golden goose. But then again, I'd never know for sure. I could not live with that.
Still, if he were agreeable, I could buy him off now. Then I could arrange for a team of professional assassins to take him out of the game as soon as possible.
But if they should fail ...
Then he would be on my tail immediately, and it would be him or me again.
I turned it over, looked at it from every possible angle. Ultimately, it boiled down to one thing.
He'd had a gun with him, but he'd tried to kill me with his hands.
"It won't work with Shandon," I said. "He's not a member of the merchant class."
"Oh. I meant no offense. I still do not quite understand how these things work with Earthmen."
"You're not alone in that.
"I was not speaking of myself. You know that I am wealthy, and that a Pei'an does not abandon his vengeance for any reason. --No. I was thinking of Mike Shandon. He is of your race, and may also believe that everything has a price. As I recall it, he incurred your disfavor in the first place because he needed money and did things that offended you in order to obtain it. Now he hates you because you sent him to prison and then killed him. But since he is of your race, which places a monetary value upon all things, perhaps you might pay him sufficient money for his _pai'badra_ so that he will be satisfied and go away."
Buy our way out? The thought hadn't occurred to me. I had come to Illyria ready to fight with a Pei'an menace. Now I held him in my hand and he was no longer a menace. An Earthman had replaced him as my number one enemy of the moment, and there was a possibility that this assessment was correct. We are a venal lot, not necessarily moreso than all of the other races--but certainly more than some. It had been Shandon's expensive tastes that had gotten him into a bind in the first place. Things had happened quickly since my arrival on Illyria, and strangely enough--for me and my Tree--it had not occurred to me that my money might be my salvation.
On the other hand, considering Shandon's record as a spender--a thing brought out at the first trial and at the appellate level--he went through money like a _betta splendens_ through that most liquid of all aichemical elements. Say I gave him a half million in universal credit drafts. Anybody else could invest it and live on the dividends. He would go through it in a couple years. Then I would have problems again. He would have hit me this once, and he would figure he could do it again. And of course I could come through again. I could come through any time. So maybe he would not want to kill his golden goose. But then again, I'd never know for sure. I could not live with that.
Still, if he were agreeable, I could buy him off now. Then I could arrange for a team of professional assassins to take him out of the game as soon as possible.
But if they should fail ...
Then he would be on my tail immediately, and it would be him or me again.
I turned it over, looked at it from every possible angle. Ultimately, it boiled down to one thing.
He'd had a gun with him, but he'd tried to kill me with his hands.
"It won't work with Shandon," I said. "He's not a member of the merchant class."
"Oh. I meant no offense. I still do not quite understand how these things work with Earthmen."
"You're not alone in that.