"Mercedes Lackey - Grey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

offered. But Nan was faint with hunger; she hadn't eaten in two days, and was
willing to dare poison, curses, and anything else for a bit of
bread. Furthermore, Nan had a secret defense; under duress, she could often
sense the intent and even dimly hear the thoughts of others. That was how she
avoided her mother when it was most dangerous to approach her, as well as
avoiding other dangers in the streets themselves. Nan was certain that if this
man had any ill intentions, she would know it. Still, as tea-time and
twilight both approached, she hung back a little from the wrought-iron gate,
beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be better to see what, if anything, her
mother brought home. If she'd found a jobтАФor a "gen'lmun"тАФthere might be a
farthing or two to spare for food before Aggie spent the rest on gin. Behind
the high, grimy wall, the Big House loomed dark and ominous against the smoky,
lowering sky, and the strange, carved creatures sitting atop every pillar in
the wall and every corner of the House fair gave Nan the shivers whenever she
looked at them. There were no two alike, and most of them were beasts out of a
rummy's worst deliriums. The only one that Nan could see that looked at all
normal was a big, grey bird with a fat body and a hooked beak that sat on top
of the right-hand gatepost of the back gate. Nan had no way to tell time, but
as she waited, growing colder and hungrierтАФand more nervousтАФwith each passing
moment, she began to think for certain that the other children had been having
her on. Tea-time was surely long over; the tale they'd told her was nothing
more than that, something to gull the newcomer with. It was getting dark,
there were no other children waiting, and after dark it was dangerous even for
a child like Nan, wise in the ways of the evil streets, to be abroad.
Disappointed, and with her stomach a knot of pain, Nan began to turn away from
the gate. "I think that there is no one here, Missy S'ab," said a low, deep
voice, heavily accented, sounding disappointed. Nan hastily turned back, and
peering through the gloom, she barely made out a tall, dark form with a
smaller one beside it. "No, KaramjitтАФlook there!" replied the voice of a
young girl, and the smaller form pointed at Nan. A little girl ran up to the
gate, and waved through the bars. "Hello! I'm SarahтАФwhat's your name? Would
you like some tea-bread? We've plenty!" The girl's voice, also strangely
accented, had none of the imperiousness that Nan would have expected coming
from the child of a "toff." She sounded only friendly and helpful, and that,
more than anything, was what drew Nan back to the wrought-iron gate. "Indeed,
Missy Sarah speaks the truth," the man said; and as Nan drew nearer, she saw
that the other children had not exaggerated when they described him. His head
was wrapped around in a cloth; he wore a long, high-collared coat of some
bright stuff, and white trousers that were tucked into glossy boots. He was as
fiercely erect as the iron gate itself; lean and angular as a hunting tiger,
with skin so dark she could scarcely make out his features, and eyes that
glittered at her like beads of black glass. But strangest, and perhaps most
ominous of all, Nan could sense nothing from the dark man. He might not even
have been there; there was a blank wall where his thoughts should have
been. The little girl beside him was perfectly ordinary by comparison; a
bright little wren of a thing, not pretty, but sweet, with a trusting smile
that went straight to Nan's heart. Nan had a motherly side to her; the younger
children of whatever neighborhood she lived in tended to flock to her, look up
to her, and follow her lead. She in her turn tried to keep them out of
trouble, and whenever there was extra to go around, she fed them out of her