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

At nearly the same moment, she felt something slam down behind her, closing off the doorway
practically at her heels.
She whirled, going to her knees, and beat on the slab of stone that had fallen down to seal off her
exit, seeing only now in the raw red light that her hands were bloody, the nails split to the quick, the skin
gashed and the flesh torn and lacerated.
Something laughed soundlessly behind her.
Again she pivoted, plastering her back against the cold stone slab that blocked the door, mouth
dry with fear.
She saw she was in a low-ceilinged, stone-walled chamber. Although there was no apparent
source of light, the chamber was bright enough that she could easily see the colorful paintings on three of
its four walls. She couldn't look at them for very long, though; the garish colors and the light that pulsated
with every beat of her heart made it seem that they moved. They made her dizzy. The floor was black and
crustedтАФand it was plain that this was the origin of the sickly sweet stench. And on the fourth wallтАФ
On the fourth wall, the wall opposite the door, was a block of stone like an altar, and behind it, a
statue. The statue, the paintingsтАФthey were like the ones she'd seen in the museum, only untouched,
undamaged by years of profaning hands.
Things of the Ancient Ones, the Azteca. She seemed to remember, vaguely, that all of Mexico
City had been built on ancient ruins, the ruins of the Aztec capitol, Tenochtitlan. And hadn't some of the
museum artifacts been unearthed when they had dug the foundations of this very hotel?
The statue was of a dead-black stone that reflected none of the light in the chamber, and pulled at
her eyes until she could no more look away from it than escape from this place. She knew, in a way
beyond knowing, that the statue was of the rarest unflawed black jade. Priceless, and peerless.
With that knowledge, a voice insinuated itself into her head; it hummed behind her eyes,
seductive, hypnotic.
She listened; she couldn't have escaped it even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. It
promised, that voice, even if she couldn't yet understand what it promised. It soothed; it began to drive out
her fear. It was so good to listen to that voice, full of more promises than Joachim's, even. Almost, she
could almost understand it. It was telling herтАФthat she was brave, and good, and beautiful. That she was
awaited here, long awaited. So good not to think, just to listenтАФthought ebbed away, and pain, and
finally, the last chill of fear.
In the moment her fear left her, she saw that the statue was the source of the chamber's
illumination; in that moment, the stench of the room vanished, replaced by a subtle perfume. The hurting
of her hands and arms ebbed away as well, and she looked down dumbly at her hands to see them not only
healed, but flawlessly groomed and soft, as only the hands of the lady tourists were. She looked up again
at the glowing statueтАФand now it seemed to represent the very pinnacle of desire. Fearful no longer, she
approached it; the sweet, hypnotic voice still humming behind her eyes, cajoling, promising.
***
"SherryтАФ"
Sherry Bryce Fernandez knew that exasperated tone of voice only too well. She braced herself for
another inevitable sample of her husband's sarcastic wit, and winced in anticipation.
"Are you quite finished?"
"Not quiteтАФ" she ventured, and Robert sighed dramatically.
"So what," he asked, with carefully measured venom, "makes this tourist trap any different from
all the other tourist traps we've gone past today?"
Sherry shook back her straight blond hair, held out the brightly brocaded huiple in nerveless
hands, and attempted to explain. "This is Tenejapa work, BobтАФI had no idea there'd be any this far
northтАФit's the Chiapas women that do this kind of weavingтАФ"
"Never mind," he interrupted, boredom and irritation showing only too plainly on his handsome
face, somehow getting past the concealing sunglasses he affected. "Don't get started. I suppose now you're
going to spend the next two hours dickering for that rag?"