"Mercedes Lackey - EM 3 - The Serpents Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

within the partial enclosure of the hansom, was an assault on the
senses of a very different sort than the heart of Delhi. In place of
the scent-no, call it what it was, the stench-of hot, baked earth,
dust, sweat, and dung, the smell of London enveloped them in damp,
mold and mildew, wet wool, wet horse, smoke, stagnant water, the
acrid tang of motor exhaust, a hint of sewage and horse droppings,
and the river smell of the Thames. Harsher, deeper voices than the
rapid twitter of her peoples' myriad tongues fell upon the ear. There
was no bawl of livestock, only the clatter of wheels and hooves on
cobblestones, neighing, the jingle of harness, and the alien noise of
a motorcar or 'bus. And, of course, the atmosphere, so cheerless, so
cold. . . .
But she had no other choice now; this was her home, and this strange
island her refuge. If she was ever to find protection, it would be
here. Her enemy was even more alien to this environment than she was.
She shook off her dark mood with an effort, turning all of her
attention to her companion. Amelia was the most sensible, practical,
and dauntless young woman that Maya had ever met. From the moment
that they encountered each other at the London School of Medicine for
Women, Maya had felt they had been friends or even sisters before, in
some other lifetime. Naturally, she had not said anything of the sort
to Amelia, who would only have been confused. The Church of England
did not admit to the reincarnation of souls.
"Well, it will be your turn to beard the dragon in his den in another
year or so," she told Amelia, who laughed.
"I am going to practice at the Royal Free Hospital," she replied.
"They, at least, are open to women physicians. I'm not so ambitious
as you."
"It wasn't ambition, it was necessity," Maya told her soberly. "What
if Royal Free had balked? I would have nowhere to turn-"
"But why should they balk?" Amelia interrupted.
Maya gestured wordlessly to her own face, and Amelia flushed. "If I
tried and failed to obtain certification at St. Mary's, then Royal
Free would likely have certified me just out of spite," she continued
cheerfully. "My father always taught me to try the hardest path
first, you know, although if I had seen that man before I made that
plan, I would have thought twice about the wisdom of it."
"I hadn't thought of that." Amelia pursed her lips. "Still, that
won't do for me. St. Mary's might accept a woman physician, but
they'll never accept a woman as a student. Not now, anyway. Perhaps
in a few years."
"There is nothing wrong with Royal Free," Maya said firmly, "And a
good many things that are right." She might have elaborated on the
subject, but the cab had just turned down the shabby-genteel street
that housed her home and surgery and was pulling up at the front
door. Gupta, a shapeless bundle of waxed mackintosh and identifiable
only by the white chalwars stuffed into his Wellingtons that peeked
from under the hem of the mac, was setting the last screw into the
inscribed brass plate beside her door-a plate that proclaimed this to
be the surgery of Dr. M. Wither-spoon.