"John DeChancie - Castle 08 - Bride of the Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

"Sorry. I like Gene, don't get me wrong."
"I know you like Gene."
"I'm sorry, really."
"Forget it."
Deena flinched inwardly. "Whoops. Put my foot in it."
"I said forget it." Linda pushed lamb stew around with her spoon, then dropped the spoon and pushed
the bowl away. "I'm not hungry. Think I'll go for a walk."
"Are you okay?" Melanie asked.
"Sure."
Melanie said with underscored sincerity, "Linda, all of us hope you'll be very happy."
"Thanks. See you all later."
Linda walked out of the dining hall. An uncomfortable silence fell. Lord Peter broke it.
"Well, I feel much better for having eaten my usual lunch." He patted his lips with a serviette.
"Lord Peter, you're a man of principles," Dalton said.
"I thank you, sir."
"And a horse's ass."
"As are you, sir. Now, I think I will go to Gene's picnic. Would you care to accompany this horse's ass
to that auspicious affair?"
"As one horse's ass to another, I would be honored, sir."
"If you people would kindly excuse us," Lord Peter said.
"You're excused," Deena said.
Dalton and Thaxton walked out the door.
"I guess I said the wrong thing to Linda," Deena lamented. "Am I dumb."
"Oh, she'll be all right," Melanie said, looking unconvinced.
? CHAPTER FIVE

THE TOMB WAS DRY AND DARK, its air stifling, carrying the odor of ancient decay and a musty
staleness, a stuffiness, that made him want to sneeze. Dust of ages lay in piles on the stone floor. Dry
death and time-bleached bones lay within. And gold and silver, perhaps. Perhaps not.
Rance got out the lantern, lit it with the striking stone, then made his way forward. The passage elbowed
left, then right.
The way was narrow at first, slitlike side passages leading off it. Then he entered a steeply sloping grand
gallery, its plug-blocks long since broken up into manageable fragments. He climbed the gallery into a
large chamber with a gabled roof. Nothing lay within but some toppled statues, a smashed and empty
sarcophagus, and scattered debris.
His heart sank. He slid back down the gallery and examined some of the side passages. All were dark.
He took a deep breath and entered the widest one.
It went a short way, then flared out into a large antechamber. He stopped in his tracks.
A bronze door, quite intact, stood at the far end of the chamber. He rushed to it and, to his astonishment,
found it locked or barred shut from the inside. There was no hole in the wall. Nothing bore witness to any
forced entry whatsoever. How could this be?
He held the lantern high and looked around. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like gray threads. In the
corner to his right stood a tall box, a sarcophagus standing on end. It was made of plain stone and bore
no inscriptions. He looked at it briefly, then fixed his gaze on the painted lettering which ran along the
walls of the chamber. The ancient glyphs were difficult to read. He stepped closer to study them.
There was quite a lot to the inscription; it seemed to run on and on. Freely translated, it read:
* KNOW BY THESE WORDS THAT WHOSOEVER DISTURBETH THE PEACE OF THE
DEAD WILL NOT DIE BUT WILL SUFFER THE PANGS OF ILL FORTUNE SO LONG AS HE
WALKS THE EARTH * CALAMITY WILL BEFALL HIM AT EVERY TURN AND MEN WILL
SHUN HIM AS THEY WOULD A CARRIER OF PLAGUE * NEITHER RESPITE NOR