"Mercedes Lackey - Tregarde 2 - Burning Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

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BURNING WATER




by Mercedes Lackey



Copyright ┬й 1989


A Tor Book
First edition: February 1989
 Dedicated to
Mary Jean and J. R. Holmes, who gave Diana a place to grow up
 ONE


Lupe sobbed harshly, her voice muffled, as if smothered by the darkness all about her. She clawed
at the rubble that hemmed her in; her finger-ends were surely raw and bloody, but she couldn't see them,
and she was too hysterical to feel much pain. All she felt was panic, the panic of a trapped animalтАФfor
she was trapped helplessly beneath tons of rubble, rubble that, less than an hour ago, had been the twenty-
story hotel in downtown Mexico City where Lupe worked as a maid.
Today was September 19, 1985. Mexico City had just experienced one of the worst earthquakes in
its history.
Ironically enough, it was also Lupe's birthday.
Less than an hour ago she'd been happy. It had not much mattered that she'd had to work on her
birthday; she had known that she was lucky to have this job at all. Less than an hour ago, she had
descended the stairs to the cellar storeroom singing. It would only have been a few more hours, and then
she'd have been off, free for the evening. There was going to be a party, cakeтАФand handsome Joachim,
who worked as a bellman, had promised to come. She had a new dress, red and soft, like rose petals, and
Joachim liked red. One of the tourists had already given her a tip for bringing extra towels. And there had
been a full, unopened bottle of wine left behind after the party in room 1242. She'd hidden it in her locker,
for her party. It was going to be a good day, with a better evening to come.
The ashtrays she'd come seeking were kept in boxes next to the stairs; cheap little metal things
that the tourists were always taking. Somebody had overfilled the particular box she reached for and
several of them had fallen out and rolled under the staircase. She'd had to wedge herself under the
staircase to reach them. She hadn't minded; the cellar was well lit, and she was small enough to fit beneath
the staircase easily.
That was what had saved her.
For with no warning, the floor began to buck and tremble like a wild horse; the lights sparked and
went out. She screamed, or thought she didтАФshe couldn't hear her own voice in the shrieking of tortured
metal and concrete. She'd been flung backward and against the wall, and hit her head, seen multicolored
flashes of light, then nothing.