"Samuel R. Delany - The Fall Of The Towers 3 - City Of A Thousand Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Samuel R)

She was beautiful with shadows, the long violet ones that fell over the waterfront streets where he had
walked with her last night, beautiful with light, the glare of a mercury light which they had stopped under
briefly to talk to a friend of hisтАФ

тАЬSo you went and got married after all, Vol. Well, I thought you would, Congratulations.тАЭ

тАЬThanks.тАЭ They both said it, and his voice, low tenor, and hers, rich alto, were even musical together.
тАЬRenna, this is my friend Kino. Kino, this is my wife, Renna.тАЭ He spoke that solo, like a single instrument
after a chord, it implied symphonies to come between them.

тАЬI guess you wonтАЩt be having so much to do with your old gang anymore.тАЭ Kino dug a dirty finger in a
dirtier ear. тАЬBut then, you never were a gang man really. Now you can sit around and write poems as you
always wanted to, and enjoy life.тАЭ And when the grimy youth, too old for urchin, too young for derelict,
said тАЬlifeтАЭ he glanced at her, and all the yearning of his restless age flamed in his eyes and lit her beauty.

тАЬNo, IтАЩm not a gang man, Kino,тАЭ Vol said. тАЬAnd what with that stupid feud between me and Jeof, I
decided that this was as good a time as any just to drop out of the whole mali business. WeтАЩre going to
be moving to the mainland in a couple of days. ThereтАЩs a place there weтАЩve heard about that weтАЩd like to
look at.тАЭ

Kino moved a bare toe around a cobblestone. тАЬI wasnтАЩt gonna mention Jeof, but since you did first, I
guess I can say I mink getting out is a good idea. Because he is a gang man, to the root of every rotten
tooth in his jaw.тАЭ Suddenly he ducked his head and grinned apologetically. тАЬLook, I gotta go some place.
You just donтАЩt let Jeof see her.тАЭ He made a motion towards Renna, and with the motion Vol looked at
her, her dark skin pale under the light of the mercury lamp; Kino was gone, and she wasтАж

тАж beautiful with shadow again as they walked through the dark streets of the DevilтАЩs Pot and at last
turned into the ramshackle tavern-boarding-house, beautiful as they stepped into the hall and darkness
closed over her, blackening details. Just then someone opened the door at the end of the hall and a wash
of yellow threw her into silhouette as she walked a step ahead of him, and he learned with his eyes as he
already knew with his hands that the shape and outline of her whole bodyтАФwaist, breasts, neck, and
chinтАФwere beautiful. They had gone together to his room.

On the wall was an exquisite picture she had done of him, red chalk on brown paper. On the rickety
table in front of the window was a sheaf of paper. The top sheet bore the final draft of a poem that was,
in its exquisite use of words and bright image, a portrait of her.

He sat cross-legged in the crumpled, body-warmed bedding, now, and looked at her beside him until his
eyes ached with keeping his lids up, looking not to miss the beauty of her breathing, the faint flare of her
nostrils, the rise of her chest, the movement of her skin a millimetre back and forth across her collarbone
as she breathed. His eyes, flooded with her gloriousness, filled with tears. He had to blink and look
away.

When he saw the window again he frowned. Last night there had been no crack.
He followed the line down the window, where the two pieces of the pane were fractionally dislocated
against one another, to the lower left-hand corner: a sunburst of smaller cracks arrayed a three-inch hole.
Some object had knocked a corner from the window. He stood up and went to the table. Broken glass
glittered over the paper. (тАЬAs my words should glitter,тАЭ he thought.) He picked up the rock with the strip
of cloth wrapped several times around it. When he unwrapped it and read the words, blurred where the
ink ran into the fibre, there was no glitter. Instead, small trip hammers struck against a hard ball of fear he