"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 01 - The Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

Peregrine closed his eyes briefly and then continued.
"As you can imagine, the threat was a good one. I made every mortal effort to shut my eyes to the other
world. I suppose his methods were vindicated, because by the time I turned thirteen, I'd finally succeeded in
blotting it all out."
The tone in his voice was dreary, rather than triumphant. After a pause, Adam said casually, "Let's leave that
for a moment. When did you first start drawing and painting?"
Peregrine looked relieved.
"That's easy enough," he said. "It was at the beginning of my third year of prep - about the time everything
else had shut down. I took an art class as an honors elective." He smiled wanly. "It was incredible. I'd never
known I had it in me to draw. After that, it was as if a whole new world had opened up for me, to replace the
one I'd lost."
"What did you draw?" Adam asked, trying to steer him away from the emotional mine field of his sight.
"Oh, nice, safe landscapes and buildings, for the first year, with a strong emphasis on perspective."
Peregrine's voice had a more confident ring to it, as he talked about his art. "Most of my classmates hated
the technical assignments, but for me, the exercises in perspective were like a kind of - oh, I don't know - a
form of magic, I suppose. There were rules you had to follow, but the possibilities were almost infinite. The art
mistress was very supportive, and I started picking up the pieces of my self-confidence."
He took a tentative sip of the whiskey before continuing thoughtfully.
"It got even better, once we started in on life studies. Portraiture was my forte from the start. In my final year,
I did a portrait of the headmaster as Robert the Bruce that was good enough to win me an important prize.
My father was dubious about all this artistic effort - he would have preferred excellence in sports, I think - but
you can't argue with a picture on the cover of Scottish Field. Fortunately, my exams were good enough that
even he couldn't complain about that.
"I wanted to go to art school next - he wanted me to read law - so we compromised on art history at Oxford,
and then art school." He grimaced. "I wish now that I'd done as he wanted and read law - or even become a
banker or an economist."
"Do you?" Adam carefully kept his tone uninflected.
"Yes!" Peregrine declared vehemently. "Oh, I started out well enough, during those first few years after I
finished art school. I got a lot of lucky breaks, thanks to Lady Laura and others. I was even on the way to
gaining a reputation, when things took a turn for the worse."
"In what way?"
"My vision - changed," Peregrine said. He took another swallow of whiskey. "I started seeing things again. I
tried to control it, but I couldn't always. More and more often, when I started on a new portrait, I began to see
things I had no business seeing. Sometimes when I looked at a subject's face, I would catch myself looking
into his future - "
"Seeing his death, you mean." Adam made it a statement.
Peregrine's mouth tightened grimly. "It didn't happen every time. But it happened often enough to convince me
that painting anyone over the age of legal majority was courting insanity."
"Which is why you've mainly painted children, in the last few years," Adam finished, nodding. "What
persuaded you to paint Lady Laura?"
"Did you ever try saying no to Lady Laura?" Peregrine replied, giving Adam an almost incredulous glance.
"Besides, the original commission was to paint her grandchildren. It was only after I'd started that she asked
to be included in the picture. I couldn't very well refuse her; she was the kindest and most generous of
patrons - almost like a mother, if you really want to know. That's why, when I realized what I was painting - "
He drew a deep, unsteady breath and tried to go on.
"I tried to tell myself that it couldn't be true," he whispered. "It was all I could do to continue working. I tried to
blot out the knowledge, but I couldn't. Then you showed up - and continuing to deny it became out of the
question. Now she's dead, as I foresaw. And I - haven't got any tears left for her."
He buried his face in his hands, a single dry sob wracking his frame. Sharing his grief, Adam reached across
to lay a comforting hand on one taut shoulder.