"MacLeod, Ian R - Sealight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

Another version of the story -which Ran preferred not to dwell on tonight -- was
that creatures had started to ferment spontaneously in the fetid silt.

He came suddenly to a wide canal arched by the bonewhite branches of dead nsia
trees. The far end was blocked by a massive wall. Above it, reaching far into
the sky, were the roofs and pinnacles of Torea, much closer than he had ever
seen them from the lagoon. Unmistakably, a light glinted from the highest tower,
although from where he stood it looked as though it was coming from somewhere
amid the stars.

Ran reached back into the belt, drew out the scissors, held them menacingly
before him in his right hand in much the same way as he had seen adventurers
depicted in woodcuts. He prowled along the footway. The waters of the canal
beside him were flat, catching the night like a dark mirror. The moon shifted
through the white branches overhead.

He stopped: the moon still slithered through the branches. The sensation of
watching it was odd, like staring from a stationary ferry at a moving deck
beyond. Then he realized that the branches were soundlessly rubbing together
like greedy hands.

He started to back away. The whole avenue was twisting and swaying now, and in
total, unnerving silence, although the white branches looked as though they
should clatter like ancient bones. Then something tapped Ran's shoulder. He spun
around. A thousand arms opened to embrace him. He lashed out with the scissors,
but a twig whipped instantly around his wrist. Feeling their touch on his face,
his hands, his body, Ran understood why the branches made no sound. They were
soft as flesh.

They picked him up easily. A branch slid across his mouth, searched and parted
his lips. He kicked and squirmed as others lowered him toward a gray trunk which
had splintered open to form a wet and hungry maw. He tried to scream, but by now
the fleshy softness of the wood had circled his tongue. The yawning trunk was
filled with pulsing redness -- Ran could smell its greed. He was gripped
helpless and rigid. So much for magic scissors -- it seemed that the fates had
decreed that no matter what else happened today Ran was destined to be eaten by
something large and many-armed. Some adventurer you are, he thought, haven't
even reached the walls of Torea. Then he thought of his mother, and wondered if
Piir would ever marry.

Darkness dosed over him. Sadness, too, and a kind of relief. He didn't expect to
awake.

RAN DREW A slow breath, then another. The third -and the ache in his bruised
ribs -- was enough to convince him that he was actually alive. He could hear the
clash of sea against rock, but the sound was faint, and something about it told
that it came from far below. The air was almost cool, brushing lightly against
the sweat on his face. It tasted sweet. Like the sound of the sea, the green
scent of canals was there, but it was distant.