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

across the floor and mounted the dais, hands reverently outstretched to touch it.
The instant of contact brought a radiant flash, like a surge of heat lightning. Reeling, Peregrine flung up his
arms to shield his dazzled eyes.
He took his hands away to find the chapel gone, himself suspended in an iridescent sea. Fear of falling
gripped him, and he kicked out frantically in an attempt to find the floor. His violent and instinctive movement
sent a wave of color surging through the opalescent matrix surrounding him. The wave folded back on itself,
fragmenting in a kaleidoscopic explosion of fractured light.
Straightaway Peregrine was swallowed up in a polychrome tempest. He thrashed about in the eddying tides
like a swimmer in danger of drowning, becoming more disoriented by the second. Panicking, he choked out a
gasping cry for help.
A chorus of voices answered him, calling out reassurance and encouragement. They spoke in different
languages, but he understood all of them. In that Pentecostal moment, he realized that they were all echoes
of his own voice, all telling him the same thing: Be still. Be still, and know that thou art lord of all.
He stopped struggling. At once the wild fluctuations of light became less erratic. Holding himself motionless,
he willed the storm to subside. By degrees, the warring colors resolved into a unified field of light, like a
pearly lake - and he could walk upon it! Awed and astonished, he set off in perfect silenceтАж.
A soft blue light grew up all around him, gradually overwhelming every other color. In trying to blink back
focus, he discovered that his eyes were closed. When he opened them a moment later, he found himself
gazing up at a painted sky full of painted stars. He was back in his room at Strathmourne.
He sat up in bed, puzzled and abstracted, as he mentally reviewed the very vivid dream he had just
experienced. At the same time, a mild compulsion laid hold of him to commit the details to paper. He found
pen and notebook on the table beside his bed, and he switched on the bedside lamp and began to scribble
down an account of the dream's scenes and events.
By the time he had finished, it was past eight o'clock. Mindful that his host was an early riser, Peregrine
rushed through his ablutions and, with his notebook tucked under his arm, hurried downstairs to the morning
room where Adam habitually ate breakfast. He arrived rather breathlessly to find Adam in the act of pouring
himself a steaming cup of tea, a newspaper at his elbow. The wide bow window beyond the table showed the
day starting out to be a misty one.
"Good morning," Peregrine said, tendering the older man a sheepish grin. "I hope I haven't disgraced myself
by being late again for breakfast."
"Not at all," Adam laughed, putting aside his paper. "I've only just sat down myself. Join me, by all means." A
discerning look produced a raised eyebrow. "Is anything amiss?"
"Not amiss, no." Peregrine slid eagerly into the chair across from Adam. "I had the most extraordinary
dream, just before I woke up. Could we talk about it?"
"Certainly," Adam replied. "Did you make notes?"
Nodding, Peregrine produced his notebook and proffered it across the table. "It's all here - everything I could
remember. You don't actually have to read it right now," he added, somewhat self-consciously. "You can have
your breakfast first."
Adam took the notebook and hefted it in his hand, smiling.
"I think I'll do both at once," he said lightly. "I've found that such material makes far more interesting breakfast
reading than the newspaper. In the meantime, by all means have something to eatтАж."
Peregrine went through the motions of taking toast and tea while Adam read and then re-read the closely
penned lines. The account ran to several pages. When at last he raised his eyes from the notebook,
Peregrine abruptly pushed aside his plate, all further appetite at least temporarily fled.
"Well?" he said, a little apprehensively. "What do you make of it?"
"The textbook response from me," said Adam, "is, what do you make of it yourself?"
Peregrine grimaced. "I was afraid you'd say that." After a moment's thought, he said with some hesitation,
"Based on what you said yesterday in your lecture, I suppose it's all about history - history, and the
resonance that history generates. What I don't understand is, why the self-portrait gallery?"
He glanced obliquely at Adam as though inviting an explanation. Adam gave him a penetrating look from