"Philip Jose Farmer - WOT 2 - The Gates of Creation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

At this, he sat upright and looked to left and right and saw that she was not in the room. He
called, "Chryseis!" Then he saw the glit-tering pulsing six-rayed object that hung six feet above
the edge of his bed. Out of it came, in sound, not fire, his father's voice.

"Jadawin, my son, my enemy! Do not look for the lesser being you have honored by making your mate.
She is gone and will not be back."

Wolff stood up and then sprang out of bed. How had this thing gotten into his supposedly
impregnable castle? Long before it had reached the bedroom in the center of the castle, alarms
should have wakened him, massive doors should have slid shut throughout the enormous building,
laser beams should have been triggered in the many halls, ready to cut down intruders, the hundred
different traps should have been set. The hexaculum should have been shattered, slashed, burned,
exploded, crushed, drowned.



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But not a single light shone on the great wall across the room, the wall that seemed only an
arabesqued decoration but was the alarm and control diagram-panel of the castle. It glimmered
quietly as if an uninvited guest were not within a million miles.

The voice of Urizen, his father, laughed, and said, "You did not think you could keep the Lord of
Lords out with your puny weapons, did you? Jadawin, I could kill you now where you stand gaping so
foolishly, so pale and quivering and filmed in sweat."

"Chryseis!" Wolff cried out again.

"Chryseis is gone. She is no longer safe in your bed and in your universe. She has been taken as
quickly and as silently as a thief steals a jewel."

"What do you want, Father?" Wolff asked.

"I want you to come after her. Try to get her back."

Wolff bellowed, leaped up onto the bed, and launched himself over its edge at the hexaculum. For
that moment, he forgot all reason and caution, which had told him that the object could be fatal.
His hands gripped the many-colored glowing thing. They closed on air and came together and he was
standing on the floor, looking up above him at the space where the hexaculum had been. Even as his
hands touched the area filled by the starred polyhedron, it had vanished.

So, perhaps, it had not been physical. Perhaps it had after all been a projection stirred in him
by some means.

He did not believe so. It was a configuration of energies, of fields momentarily held together and
transmitted from some remote place. The projector might be in the universe next door or it might
be a million universes away. The distance did not matter. What did matter was that Urizen had
penetrated the walls of Wolff's personal world. And he had spirited Chryseis away.