"Anthony, Piers- Incarnations of Immortality 2- Bearing an Hourglass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

Norton did not ordinarily use pajamas, but he didn't argue. He was a guest of this estate, and it was no place to flop in his clothes. Except-"Pajamas? Do you have male clothing here?"

"They were Gawain's," she said delicately. "You're close enough to his size, and I'm sure he would have wanted them to be used."

Surely so. Norton squelched his misgivings and accepted the pajamas. Orlene showed him to a well appointed room, separate from hers; their relationship had not progressed to the critical stage. As he had known from the moment he first saw her, she was no one-nightstand girl. And he, abruptly, was no love-'em-and-leave'em guy. He was committed for the full route, whatever it might be.

He discovered that he was quite tired; it had indeed been a long day. He undressed, stepped into the sonic cleaner, stepped out dry and tingly clean, then got into Gawain's pajamas, reluctantly accepting their symbolism. They hung on him somewhat baggily.

He got into bed and realized that this was not the ordinary flophouse bunk he was used to. It was an oil sponge couch. His weight caused the sponge oil to give way and shift, but not instantly; it was more like sinking into thick mud. The truth was, mud was excellent stuff, as children instinctively knew, despite the bad press provided by their mothers. It offered enough support to prevent drowning, while being malleable enough for freedom of action. It was also fascinating stuff in itself, suitable for splashing or mudballs and body-paintings. Of course this bed was not mud and would not splash or separate, but the feel was similar. Norton let himself descend into its enfoldment with sheer bliss.

"How did it work out?" a voice asked.

Norton opened his eyes, annoyed. Gawain the Ghost was there, standing expectantly beside the bed. "I had almost forgotten you," he said.

"I certainly hadn't forgotten you!" the ghost replied. "Three hours-did you beget my offspring?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Norton demanded. "I thought you couldn't enter this apartment."

"You misunderstood. I can't enter the room in which my wife stays, and she can't directly perceive me regardless of where we are. But I can enter my own residence when she's absent. I do it all the time."

"She's absent? I thought she was in her bedroom."

"She is. She's absent from this room," Gawain clarified. "If she entered it, I'd have to vanish. I'd Just step through the wall until she was gone."

Norton thought of something else. "I understood it was death to see a ghost. That's why people don't like it! Does this mean I am going to die?"

Gawain laughed. "Yes, in a manner of thinking. You will die-in due course. Maybe fifty years hence. Every living person will. But seeing me won't hasten your demise one whit, unless you should happen to die of fright." He put his forefingers in the corners of his mouth and pulled his lips open in a grotesque face. Because he was insubstantial, he was able to stretch his mouth entirely beyond the borders of his face. "I'm not that kind of ghost. You're thinking of Molly Malone of Kilvarough. She's a nice and lovely ghost indeed; if I weren't already married-" He left it unfinished.

"Well, to answer your question," Norton said shortly, "I did not have any intimate relation with Orlene. She's not that kind of woman, any more than you're that kind of ghost. And I can't guarantee that I will have that kind of relation, or when."

"Now look, sport," Gawain said indignantly. "You're here accepting the hospitality of my estate. You owe it to me to deliver!"

"To cuckold you?" Norton demanded, again expressing his inner irresolution. "To seduce your pristine, faithful wife?"

"It's not like that, and you know it. You're here to perform a service."

"I thought I was here to do you a favor."

"Same thing. Once you do it, you can leave. Except I still have to teach you how to slay dragons."

"Well, Orlene is no dragon! The fact is, she is really a nice person, not a gold digger at all. If she decides not to-to want the favor, I'm not going to force it on her."

"What do you think she's here for?" Gawain demanded. "She's a guest of my estate too!"

"She's your wife!" Norton shouted. "She has a perfect right to be here!"

"Not if she doesn't produce! Listen, Norton, I'm locked in this state until I have a proper heir. She owes it to me to generate him promptly."

"Well, then, why didn't you marry some slut who spreads her legs for any man who looks at her? Why inflict this on a nice girl?"