"Nina Kiriki Hoffman - Past the Size of Dreaming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Nina Kiriki)

тАЬNina Kiriki Hoffman is one of those special prizes of the field ... One of a kind. An American
original.тАЭ
тАФLocus

тАЬIs Nina Hoffman a genius? Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.тАЭ
тАФThe Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction

тАЬ[Nina Kiriki HoffmanтАЩs] stories are like fireтАФsome are sparks that shoot in the night and catch you
sideways when youтАЩre not looking, others glow like red hot coals that make you all toasty on one side
and sensitive to the cold around you.тАЭ тАФRave Reviews

Ace Books by Nina Kiriki Hoffman
A Red Heart Of Memories
Past The Size Of Dreaming


Dedication
This one is for my mother and father, who encouraged all their children to pursue whichever craft
spoke to us.
My thanks to Stephanie Haddock, veterinary technician, who helped me with technical details. All
errors are mine.
My thanks also to Martha Bayless, intrepid fellow desert explorer and dictator par excellence.
Finally, my thanks to Brian McNaughton and Karen Taylor, willing villains.




Chapter One
A really big secret can keep you warm on cold nights, stifle hunger, drive shadows back. The best
secrets make you feel safe. You could use this, you think, but not using it is what keeps you strong.
Deirdre Eberhard changed the water in the last cat kennel in the row, petted the cat and spoke softly
to it. It had to stay at the clinic until its wound healed, but it was lonesome for its owner. тАЬNot much
longer,тАЭ Deirdre told it. She closed the cage door and straightened, pressed a hand into the small of her
back and worked her knuckles against her spine.
Her vet technician, Angie, had gone home for the day; the kennel aides, high-school kids named Bob
and Nikki, had left hours earlier, and her partner, Doug Rosenfeld, hadnтАЩt even stopped at the clinic
today. He did all the large-animal doctoring in their practice, caring for cattle, llamas, horses, reindeer,
and the occasional ostrich, and he mostly worked out of his van at the ranches that spread out around the
tiny Oregon desert town of Artemisia. He only came into the office on Wednesdays and Thursdays or
when there was an emergency.
Even the most forlorn dog on the premises had stopped howling and lay with its nose on its paws, its
shining eyes watching Deirdre. All the animals had fresh food and water and clean litter or paper. The
exam tables had been cleaned and had fresh mats and towels on them for tomorrowтАЩs patients. The
autoclave had finished its last run of the day, and the washer and drier their last loads. Everything in the
surgery was sterile and ready for the procedures sheтАЩd do tomorrow.
All done. Just one final mugful of coffee in the coffeemaker, and a piece of sunset to watch. She
rinsed out her mug, refilled it, cleaned the coffeepot and set the coffeemaker to start again tomorrow
morning, then headed out the back door to the desert.
Her clinic was a cinder-block building on the edge of town. She had a green resin Adirondack chair
by the back door, under the shade of an overhang, where she sat between patients and wrote up her