"James E. Gunn - The Magicians" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gunn James E)

hand against the wall as if she were removing condensation from the inside of a window. An opening
appeared in the wall. We looked out through it into the lobby as if it were a pane of glass or a one-way
mirror.
People were streaming out of the elevator. I didn't recognize anybody I had seen in the Crystal
Room. But I did recognize some of them. One was an energy multimillionaire; I had seen his face on a
recent cover of Time. Another was the most recent Hollywood sex goddess, only from here she looked
neither like a goddess nor particularly sexy. A third was a country rock star whose talent escaped me but
who was capable of sending audiences into spasms of enthusiasm. A fourth was a notorious gambler
whose winnings at every kind of game had made him internationally famous. A fifth was a man reputed to
be in charge of all Mafia operations on the East Coast. A sixth was a woman whose predictions had
made her syndicated columns popular in several hundred newspapers....
I recognized about half the people passing through the lobby, and I felt as if I ought to know
about half of the remainder, "Are these your members?" I asked Ariel in a whisper. I didn't know
whether it was necessary, but it felt appropriate. She shrugged.
"Is any of them Solomon?" I asked. She shrugged again.
"Why do they appear to us like this?" I asked. I was getting frustrated with questions for which I
could find no answers.
"I don't know," she said. It seemed to me that she was speaking the truth; she was really puzzled.
"It may be a trick to throw us off. It may be an illusion like the bottomless stairs. Or it may be real. Under
certain conditionsтАФreflections in mirrors, for oneтАФpeople are shown the way they really are. Maybe my
counter-magic has acted like a mirror. In the area of spells and counter-spells, we have a great deal yet
to learn. The most important thing to learn, however, is that you can't trust anything."
"Or anyone?" I added.
"Or anyone," she said. And added, gratuitously, I thought, "Including me."
A moment later we stepped into the lobby. By then the others were gone, and I had no
opportunity to notice if they changed into someone else. The lobby was only a lobby, the plain, everyday,
ordinary place I had left a few hours before. The wood fire was still scenting the air. People were walking
purposefully toward exits or from them, or seated on a sofa talking to others, or reading a newspaper in
one of the armchairs. I didn't recognize any of them.
I looked back the way we had come. The open stairs went up to a landing, turned, and ascended
toward the mezzanine. I faced Ariel. My knees were trembling, but I managed to keep my voice steady.
"What would have happened," I asked, "if we had just kept going down?"
But she refused to speculate. "It was just an illusion, you know."
Ariel got her steak. It was broiled, rare, and she ate with enthusiasm, which in other
circumstances I would have enjoyed. My appetite was gone, and I was able to get down only half a
hamburger before my stomach announced that it was unused to these kind of carryings-on and would
cooperate no more.
In spite of all my problems, I found myself watching Ariel, and I realized that so soon after Suzie
I was growing fond of the girl. Suzie had taught me nothing. But Ariel was so different. Suzie had been
more beautiful, but Ariel was prettier. Moreover, Ariel was pleasant, warm, talented, and she seemed to
be interested in me when she didn't have a steak in front of her.
I was beginning to wonder if she was interested in temporary arrangements when I remembered
what her talent was. A man doesn't want to walk out on a witch; that sort of thing could be permanent,
and I resolved to put any such thoughts out of my head before she sensed them. I bad the feeling that she
was good at that as well. "People don't just waste away," I said.
She shook her head. "There are lots of ways to kill a person with magic. The old books are full
of them, and some of them really work. You don't even have to believe in them, or know about them.
Everybody has heard of wax dolls and pins, but dollsтАФsometimes they're called mommetsтАФcan also be
made out of clay and left in a stream; and if the mommet has a connection with a real person the person
will slowly die as the doll dissolves."