"Allston, Aaron - Doc Sidhe 01 - Doc Sidhe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allston Aaron)

УYes.Ф
УDid he know devisements to take people there?Ф
УHe went there. Not long before you caught up to him. He took gear and spent a day in that place. He left the gear there. When he returned, he said the grim world was ghastly. I think he loved it.Ф
УWhat sort of gear?Ф
Joseph shrugged. УCrates. Boxes. He took gold to spend.Ф
Doc fell silent. Harris broke in, УSo did he have one of those conjurerТs circles? Do you know where it went?Ф
УHe did. In his conjuration laboratory. It went to the grim world, as I said.Ф
УI meant, where in the grimЧФ
Doc said, УWait. I donТt remember a conjuration laboratory. Was this at Wickhollow?Ф
УYes. It was well-hidden. You never asked about it. You just wanted help dealing with your dead friends.Ф
Doc didnТt answer for a moment. Then, his voice more quiet: УWeТll go there tonight. You need to show me this laboratory.Ф
УMeet me here at four bells. Leave me alone until then.Ф
УThank you.Ф Doc turned to leave, and Harris began to grope his way back around the girder he clung to.
But Joseph spoke again. УGoodsir Greene.Ф
Harris looked back. УYes?Ф
УIf you are not bound to this man, leave him. Else you will die with him.Ф
Harris looked away from JosephТs glum features and didnТt reply. He just crept back across the girders.
* * *
УWhat did he mean?Ф
УAbout what?Ф Doc drove back to the Monarch Building more slowly than heТd left it; there was a shadow of gloom over his features.
УAbout your friends.Ф
Doc was slow in answering. УJoseph was made by a deviser named Duncan Blackletter.Ф
УMade?Ф
УHe is not a man. He is a thing of clay and powerful devisements. One with a beating heart and, I think, a soul fit for rebirth. But he was BlackletterТs slave, and did many bad things for him. He had no will of his own where Blackletter was concerned.Ф
Harris thought about JosephТs unfinished face. It didnТt look like clay. But he didnТt look exactly human, either. УWas this Blackletter guy . . . the one who gave you all that trouble a while back?Ф
Doc shot him a sharp glance, then nodded. His voice was weary. УDuncan was a very bad man. Full of charm and good cheer even as he was murdering people. He set nations against one another to advance his businesses or to obtain knowledge.
УThe last thing he did was to make plans to enslave the king and queen of Novimagos. He managed to do great things for Novimagos, anonymously. He built up a debt they could not repay and used dark devisements to tap it so he could bind their will to his. ThatТs what he was about when my associates and I caught up to him in his home in Wickhollow, twenty years ago.Ф
УTwenty?Ф Harris had to reevaluate DocТs age. УYou donТt look it, but that makes you forty at least.Ф
Doc managed a faint smile. УAt least.Ф Then the smile faded. УDuncan and I fought. The old way. Not with guns or swords but with strength of will and old, old ritual. I was able to redirect his will against him, and he was destroyed, consumed by fire. I nearly was.
УBut IТd had to concentrate all my attention on him. While my associates fought his allies, Angus Powrie and Joseph among them. And died, one by one. Micah Cremm. Siobhan Damvert, Jean-PierreТs mother. Whiskers Okerry. All dead.Ф DocТs voice was barely audible over the engine noise.
УIТm sorry.Ф
УThey were neither the first nor the last. Joseph is correct, Harris. Death wanders around in my shadow. My associates know it and stay with me anyway. But as soon as we can find your path back to the grim world, you will go, and be safe.Ф
УYeah.Ф Safe to do what? Harris shook his head and tried to think of something else.

Just before dusk, as they rode in the vast red limousine Harris had seen last night, Alastair explained things to Harris.
УOne bellФ was midmorning. Two bells was exactly noon, straight up. Three was midafternoon; four near dusk; five was the shank of the evening; six was midnight; seven was the quiet time of the nightЧas quiet as a wide-awake city like Neckerdam ever gotЧand eight bells was around dawn. Each of the bells, so named for the ringing of the clock bells that marked their passing, was divided into twenty chimes; some clocks rang off the chimes as well. A chime was made up of five hundred beats, also called ticks.
Harris did some mental math and calculated each bell at about three hours, each chime at nine minutes, and each beatЧwhat? a little over a second. As confusing a nonmetric system as he was used to back home.
So as the sun set far to the west of NeckerdamТs stone and steel canyons, Jean-Pierre, driving, pulled up beside the Bergmanli Elevations building site and honked.
Joseph, clad in his work clothes and an enormous yellow shirt, emerged through the fence gate. He walked awkwardly, as though he were new to locomotion. He climbed into the car, settling alone into the rear-facing seat opposite Doc, Alastair, and Harris.
УYou must be Joseph,Ф the doctor said. УAlastair Kornbock. Grace on you.Ф
The man with the unfinished face gave him a little nod.
УCare for something to eat? WeТll have better pickings before we leave Neckerdam.Ф
Joseph shook his head.
Alastair reached into the little red satchel heТd brought and dragged out a green glass flask; he waved it hopefully. УUisge?Ф
Joseph shook his head.
Alastair sighed, uncapped the flask, and took a sip. УThis is going to be a long drive.Ф

He was right. A strained silence settled over the car. Jean-Pierre seemed strangely stiff during the drive; Noriko kept her attention on him, and Harris felt, in spite of the emotional detachment she projected, that she was concerned for him.
Doc spent his time disassembling the volt-meter the ersatz musician had carried. УInteresting design,Ф he said quietly. УOld techniques, decades old, but very creative. I think I can improve on it, though.Ф He seemed disturbed by the design of the device and spoke very little after that.
They took the Island Bridge to Long Island; it amused Harris to learn that it was called Long Island. Some things obviously translated quite well from the grim world to the fair one. The community on the far side of the bridge was Pataqqsit, and in the twilight it seemed to be half city, half green park.