"Brooks, Terry - MKL 4 - The Tangle Box" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

"You've short-circuited, Biggar," Horris declared. "You've burnt out all your wiring."

"And you simply don't want to face reality," Biggar snapped. "So save your caustic comments, Horris, for those who need them."

"Skat Mandu was the perfect scam!" Horris screamed the words so loudly that Biggar jumped in spite of himself. "Look around you, you idiot! We landed in a world where people are convinced they've lost control of their lives, where there's so much happening that it's overwhelming, where beliefs are the hardest things to come by and money's the easiest! It's a world tailor-made for someone like us, just packed full of opportunities to get rich, to live well, to have everything we ever wanted and a few we didn't! All we had to do was keep the illusion of Skat Mandu alive. And that meant keeping the faithful convinced that the illusion was real! How many followers do we have, Biggar? Excuse me, how many did we have? Several hundred thousand, at least? Scattered all over the world, but making regular pilgrimages to visit the retreat, to listen to a few precious words of wisdom, to pay good money for the experience?"

He took a deep breath. "Did you think for one minute that telling these people that we tricked them into giving money to hear what a bird would tell them--never mind who the bird said he was getting the words from--would be something they would be quick to forgive? Did you imagine that they would say, 'Oh, that's all right, Biggar, we understand,' and go back to wherever they came from in the first place? What a joke! Skat Mandu must be laughing pretty hard just about now, don't you think?"

Biggar shook his white-crested head. "He is displeased at the lack of respect he is being accorded, is what he is."

Horris's mouth tightened. "Please tell him for me, Biggar, that I could care less!"

"Why don't you tell him yourself, Horris?"

"What?"

Biggar had a wicked gleam in his eye. "Tell him yourself. He's standing right behind you."

Horris sniggered. "You've lost your mind, Biggar. You really have."

"Is that so? Is that a fact?" Biggar puffed out his chest. "Then have a look, Horris. Go on, have a look."

Horris felt a chill climb up his spine. Biggar sounded awfully sure of himself. The big house suddenly felt much larger than it really was, and the silence that settled into it was immense. The riotous cries of the approaching mob disappeared as if swallowed whole. It seemed to Horris that he could sense a dark presence lifting out of the ether behind him, a shadowy form that coalesced and then whispered with sullen insistence, Turn around, Horris, turn around!

Horris took a deep breath in an effort to stop shaking. He had the sinking feeling that somehow, once again, things were getting out of control. He shook his head stubbornly. "I won't look," he snapped--and then added maliciously, "you stupid bird!"

Biggar cocked his head. "He's reeeeeaching for you," the myna hissed.

Something feather-light brushed Horris Kew's shoulder, and he whirled about in terror.

There was nothing there.

Or almost nothing. There was a faint something, a darkening of the light, a small waver of movement, a hint of a stirring in the air.

Horris blinked. No, not even that, he amended with satisfaction. Nothing.

Outside, shouting rose up suddenly from the edge of the gardens. Horris turned. The faithful had caught sight of him through the open door and were trampling through the bedding plants and rosebushes and heading for the gate. They carried sharp objects and were making threatening gestures with them.

Horris walked quickly to the door, closed and locked it, and turned back to Biggar. "That's it for you," he said. "Good-bye and good luck."

He walked quickly through the foyer and down the hall past a parlor, and a library sitting room to the kitchen at the back of the house. He could smell fresh wax on the pegged oak floors, and on the kitchen table sat a vase of scarlet roses. He took in the smells and colors as he passed, thinking of better times, regretting how quickly life changed when you least expected it. It was a good thing he was flexible, he decided. It was fortunate that he had foresight.

"Where are we going?" Biggar asked, flying up next to him, curious enough to risk a possible blow. "I assume you have a plan."

Horris gave him a look that would have frosted a small child at play in midsummer. "Of course I have a plan. It does not, however, include you."

"That is mean, Horris. And small-minded as well." Biggar flew ahead and swung back, circling the far end of the kitchen. "Beneath you, really."

"Very little is beneath me at this point," Horris declared. "Especially where you are concerned."