"Lackey, Mercedes - Bedlam's Bard 01 - Knights of Ghosts and Shadows (with Ellen Guon) 1.4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Worse than that. Really gone this time. She'd never walked out on an argument before. Not ever. He'd always managed to get her cooled down, they'd always talked it out. Not this time. She hadn't given him a chance to get a single word in. He still didn't know what he'd doneЧbut he'd sure stepped over the line somehow. And it started here, with the Faire.

Like he'd said to Beth, the Faire in particular and busking in general.

What's wrong with being a traveling musician? he asked himself angrily. What's so important about having a mundane job? Shit, I'd rather die. I get by just fine. I did great before I got to LA., I'm doing all right now, and I'll do okay when I move someplace else. If she wanted a CPA, she should have moved in with one.

He pummeled his memory, trying to remember exactly when she'd first put up the storm warnings. Okay, she was getting zoned, and I showed her the campЧthat's when she just came out and asked me how long I planned on keeping this gig going. And how long I planned on staying in LA. with her.

So I told her.

Damn. What did she expect me to do, lie to her? It's not like I wouldn't be coming back eventually. Why does she want a leash on me? What would she have that she doesn't have now?

He kicked at a comer of the stage, and checked for "travelers" before venturing out into public pathways. Just what I need right now, a bunch of customers wanting to hear me play "Greensleeves" for the millionth time.

He ducked through the burlap doorway, and into the dusty Faire "street."

I thought she'd figured out I don't like being pinned down, like the way my parents managed to pin me down for so many years. I've had my fill of being tied hand and foot, like a poor little lamb about to get his throat slit. Sacrificed on the altar of Great Art. Bullshit. No more.

I wonder if she's heading straight home to clear out her half of the apartment? Or are we going through this all again as soon as I get home? Goddammit, Maureen, you knew what I was like when you moved in with me! Why did you have to pull this shit on me now?

Beth put her armload of costumes away and changed out to jeans and a T-shirt with "Gentle Ladies of Death and Destruction Щ" embroidered in pink and lavender on the front.

Poor Eric. He is going to be in real deep kirn chee when word of this gets back to Admin. She pulled the shirt over her head and shook out her hair. The audience didn't know whether to listen to the show or Mademoiselle Mimi. At least he doesn't repeat his mistakes. Tract just went away. Donna married her shrink and left an invite to the wedding on his coffee table. And KathieЧthe bitchЧdrove him out of Texas Faire. Even if that isn't the way the rumor-mill has it.

She hung her mini-ocarina around her neck and mentally slapped her hand. It was itching for her FenderЧ

We have a gig Wednesday night and rehearsals Monday and Tuesday. Stop thinking heretical thoughts! Guitars alone could get you burned at the stake by the Renaissance Purists at this place, Kentraine. Electric guitars, oh horrors!

She poked her head out into the street, and saw Eric off in the distance, shoulders slouched, head down.

Lawsy. It's hit him. Now we're going to be in for at least twenty-four hours of Gloom, Despair and Agony.

Eric slowly walked down the Tinker's Lane, past the wooden booths, decorated with colorful ribbons and cloth, where the Faire merchants were already closing up shop for the night.

Irish Hill. It's quiet up there this time of night. Nobody to bother, or to bother me. I could play a bit, get my head straightЧ

A few "travelers" were still wandering the Faire, gently herded towards the exit by the red-tunicked Faire Security. Mostly only the Faire folk were out in the narrow dirt streets, dancers and musicians returning from their last shows, actors carrying their props back to Lockup.

The road continued on in a marginally straight line up to the Hill, his usual post-Faire hangout. But he could see that something was happening up there, a group of Faire folk gathered around a table the burning candles visible even at this distance. Their bright costumes were now replaced by cowled dark robes. A neo-pagan Wiccan Coven was in session, and it was looking pretty serious.

Tonight is May Eve, Beltane, that's right. I'd almost forgotten. High Holy Day. Lord. If you want to raise an occult ruckus, seems to me this would be the place for it. I wanted to sit on the HillЧnaw, they're already in Circle, I'd better not disturb them. I'll find another place to play.

He trudged up the slope to the Traveler's Road, that met the Tinker's Lane just below Irish Hill. He could hear the soft words from the Hill: "... Great Goddess, save our Fairesite, keep those who would destroy it at bay. This is all we ask. Great Goddess . . .".The chant faded as Eric walked down Traveler's Road towards the Wood, the dark oaks hiding the last glimpse of red-gold sunlight.

So it's bad enough that they're praying for help. I didn't know it was that grimЧsounds like the death knell. Shawna and her bunch are into "the Goddess helps those who help themselves," and if it's gotten to the point that all they can do is prayЧ He shook his head, stopped, and looked around, the familiar booths and stages of the Faire, the stubby brown grass, ancient oak trees, the shadowed Southern Califomian hills rising above it all. Damn shame. Just because some developer thinks this would be a terrific place for shopping mall . . .

I wish somebody really could save it. This is the best Faire I've ever seen; it's so alive, always music and laughingЧ But when a corporation gets something into its collective head, there ain't much you can do about it. Not when they've got all the money, all the pull they need to make whoever owned the land sell it. Possession being nine-tenths . . . and I know I saw surveyors out here Friday.

General depression piled on personal depression. I don't know if I want to stick around and see this place turn into another shrine to McDonald's and Sears Roebuck. Maybe this is a good time to move on. Maureen sure wouldn't mind seeing me leave LA. Eric sighed and continued walking, dodging three drunken travelers, two guys in shorts and T-shirts, each carrying stacked paper beer cups, at least fifteen eachЧand keeping their balance despite the added burden of the third member of their party, slung over one guy's shoulder, out cold.