"Bischoff, David - Night World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bischoff David)

"There's but one hope. You go stall it. The voice is Satan's. He's talking through a loudspeaker implanted in the dragon's mouth. I'll return in a moment, tell it that."

"But it will kill me!" Oliver objected, grabbing at the fat man's coat, "just likejust like it killed those poor people!"

"No, no, Satan's proud, boastful. Make him talk.

Tell him I'll give myself up, that I'm being sought, being brought for him. Take courage, lad. Show me of what stuff you're made." So saying, he abruptly turned and snuck into the crowd.

"I seek Geoffrey Turner!" the dragon snarled in its heart-chilling voice. "Bring this man before me, bring Geoffrey Turner to me, and I shall harm no more of you, nor shall I return! He is here, that I know. He is here, and I shall find him if I have to burn down your houses, and rip apart your castle stone by stone!"

Oliver took a deep breath, voiced a quiet prayer, and ran out into the clearing between the cowering crowd and the swaying, growling dragon. Halting some ten yards from the creature, he turned his face upwards, stood straight and firm. The stench here was overpowering. Cinders still flecked the air.

"You are not Turner!" said the dragon. Its mouth widened as though to loose another flame.

"No, wait!" Oliver cried desperately, lifting a halting hand. "Turner is being sought by my soldiers at this very moment. I have ordered them to drag him here.

The coward is no friend of ours, and we'll be happy to let you have him."

The dragon snaked its head closer to obtain a better view of this brave, dandified young man. "Who are you, boy, to give such orders?"

"I, Satan, am Oliver Dolan, second in command of the Army of Fernwold by right of heritage."

"Ah, you know who controls this beast then. You know who I am, who is truly speaking at the moment."

The gargantuan eyes glittered.

"Yes, and I quake in my boots to hear your magnificent voice!" cried Oliver, bending into a bow from the waist. "Your greatness and fearsomeness is legend throughout the world. Your creatures plague us, your evil holds us, and it is only by the grace of God that we are not entirely in your power. I am truly awed at the mere resonance of your voice, to say nothing of the physical might of your creation."

The dragon seemed to take pleasure in Oliver's language of obeisance. Its wings unfurled a little, flapped as though preening itself, whipping up a wind that blew Oliver's hair and coattails about, and tugged at his pale blue cravat.

"And well you should be impressed by my might, petty human," it hissed, obviously delighted. "Well you should heed my words. But you say this bane of mine, this Geoffrey Turner, is being brought to me?"

"A matter of moments and he will be at your disposal," the youth said. The audible quaver in his voice was not difficult to affect. "In the meantime, might I add, Satan, that we mere mortals are seldom privileged with a direct visitation by your majesty, even if it is from a distance, as it were. How is it this Turner fellow is of such importance to you, that you seek him in this incredible guise?"

"Why should I deign to answer your trifling questions, mortal?" the dragon snarled. It spat a spurt of fire down to char the grass not two yards from Oliver's feet. The youth grimaced at the terrific heat, but stood still. The acrid smoke tickled his nostrils.

"We offer no resistance, Satan," he responded. "We realize and appreciate the scope and might of your all-encompassing power. I wish merely to understand its nature. Surely to impart this to us would not deplete your glory, indeed, it would give my people a greater recognition of your awesomeness."

"They shall all worship me one of these days," Satan declared, hoisting its left set of claws and squeezing them together like a fist. "Me. Not some airy nothing of a God in the Heavens who heeds them not. Do you understand that?"

Where was Turner? Oliver could not continue much longer; it took every bit of his courage to muster words before the behemoth. How long his words would last he had no way of knowing.

"That is yet to be seen. Father of Evil. But we do understand the possibility." His underarms sopped with prickly perspiration, his brow ran with cold, clammy sweat. "However, we are not aware of the totality of your evil, spread across this world. Tell me this, then, Geoffrey Turner has told us that you are not a supernatural entity at all; that you are perhaps only a mad machine, creating chaos on this world that was once part of an empire of many worlds. Is this so?"

"Nonsense!" the dragon roared, wisps of smoke curling from its nostrils. "The man speaks absurdities. He reflects the senility of the Enemy whom he serves! I was an angel in heaven, and chose to establish a base here on Styx. I did not care for the way my Enemy was running things. Once I rule the entirety of this world, I shall storm the gates of Heaven, and from there rule the Universe, which is my destiny!"

"According to our beliefs, you were thrown from Heaven by God along with fellow prideful angels."

Oliver did not care much for the course this conversation was taking; he might well arouse the thing's ire and fire. But he could think of nothing more to say and silence would surely try Satan's patience. A quick glance about him told Oliver that the crowd was yet standing still, stunned as the scene unfolded and that there was no sign of Turner.