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

princessesтАФand it was their surroundings that seemed disjointed from time, not them. They made the
gleaming modernity of the hotel lobby seem tawdry and contrivedтАФpoorly conceived and cheaply
executed.
The youngest and smallest carried a neatly wrapped bundle, which she pressed into Sherry's arms
wordlessly, with just a slow, coy wink of her eye. From the moment her hands touched the fabric, she
found herself unable to think of anything elseтАФand her hangover inexplicably vanished.
Sherry's obsessions returned full force and then some, and when she saw the patterns woven into
the fabric that held the promised clothing, she could not restrain her impatience to get back to the room.
She answered Robert's absent farewell with equal distraction, and did not even wait to see the odd
procession leave.
The contents exceeded her wildest hopes; not just huiples and skirts of the finest and most
intricate brocaded patterns, but an unsewn garment in the first stages of construction. Not only would she
have patterns for the brocades and embroideries, but she would have a working pattern to adapt for a
modern set of garments. It was more than she had dared dream for.
She had brought her own camera and film; she spent the entire day closeted in the hotel room,
photographing every inch of the intricate brocades, the construction techniques, and how the garments
were meant to drape. She didn't even miss eating lunch; her notebooks were full of sketches and
instructions and she'd used every last frame of her film by the time Robert staggered in the door, sweaty,
dusty, and totally exhausted.
"My God, RobertтАФ" his appearance alone served to shake her out of the trance she'd been in all
day. She took his equipment from him and he stumbled over to the bed, throwing himself down with an
utter indifference to anything that might have been in his way.
She glanced out of the hotel window to see with a feeling of shock that it was already growing
dark.
"Where on earth were you?"
"God." He groaned, and turned himself over. "I think I've been over every square inch of ruin
from here to Cancun. I haven't one frame of film left. God, Sunshine, those chicks were in-bloody-
credible!"
"Good?"
"Good isn't in it. That Lupe was right on. If what's in those cans doesn't set both Travel World and
my agency on their collective asses, I'll eat my equipment and go push Big Macs for a living." He sat up,
wiping a film of dust from his forehead. "You mark my words, SunshineтАФhalf the agencies in the
Southwest are going to be fighting for the right to offer those girls their green cards. And you and I are
about to hit the fuckin' bigtime, because Lupe told me they aren't gonna work with anybody but me."
"RobertтАФ" The strangely intense, inward-looking expression he wore frightened her a little.
"RobertтАФyou've never talked like this beforeтАФ"
"That's because nobody ever handed me the way to the top on a platter before." He looked
absently down at his filthy hands, and seemed to see the dirt for the first time. "God, I look like a pit. Get
room service to send up a sandwich while I shower, will you, lover? OhтАФLupe said to leave the stuff at
the desk; she'll get it in the morning."
He kissed her with a kind of preoccupied gentleness, peeled off his shirt, and dropped it on the
carpet, drifting into the bathroom in a half-trance.
She picked up his shirt, feeling her own bemusement return to make all the questions she wanted
to ask him seem irrelevant. After all, she had her treasures nowтАФ
But later that night, Robert woke her from a sound and dreamless sleep, tossing restlessly in a
dream from which no amount of shaking could wake him, and crying outтАФ
Only one word was clear, and that only because he repeated it so often.
"Tezcatlipoca," he cried out as if he were calling for someone, "Tezcatlipoca!"