"Ann Maxwell - Fire Dancer 3 - Dancer's Illusion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

He snarled soundlessly and looked away, not wanting to remember how the children had
died. He hoped that the grove was only an illusion, and that Rheba would not see it at all.
He glanced around and saw that she had stopped halfway downReality Street. He walked
back to her.

Rheba was entranced by a fern growing in lyric profusion among dark cobblestones.
Long fronds rose in graceful curves. Each lacy frond was an iridescent blue, trembling
with hidden life. A cool perfume pervaded the air near the fern. Hesitantly, she touched a
frond. The fern bent down, enveloping her in scent.

тАЬThatтАЩs a beautiful illusion,тАЭ she sighed. тАЬI havenтАЩt touched or smelled anything that nice
since the gold dust on Daemen.тАЭ

IтАЩsNara reached past Rheba and took a frond between her fingertips. She broke off a
small piece and waited. The frond remained the same.

тАЬThatтАЩs either real or a class twelve.тАЭ she said, sniffing the piece of plant appreciatively.
тАЬProbably real. Ghost ferns are difficult illusions. Not many get the scent just right.тАЭ

тАЬWhere do they grow normally?тАЭ

тАЬOn Ghost.тАЭ

Rheba turned to see if iтАЩsNara was teasing her, but the illusionist seemed lost in her
enjoyment of the fernтАЩs delicate scent, тАЬI thought Ghost was just a myth.тАЭ

тАЬOh no,тАЭ said iтАЩsNara, surprised. тАЬItтАЩs not part of the Equality, but itтАЩs real enough.тАЭ

тАЬHave you ever seen a Fifth People?тАЭ asked Kirtn.

тАЬTheyтАЩre rather hard to see,тАЭ said iтАЩsNara wryly. тАЬIтАЩve never had the pleasure, but my
motherтАЩs second grandfather saw a Ghost once.тАЭ

тАЬHow did he know is wasnтАЩt an illusion?тАЭ

тАЬGhosts arenтАЩt illusions. Only a realist could confuse them.тАЭ

Rheba was still trying to think of an answer when Kirtn distracted her.

тАЬLook at that!тАЭ He pointed down the road, away from the spaceport.

A starsurfer was swooping down on them. Its vast, mirror-finish sail was belled out by
an invisible wind. The sail worked as a huge lens, magnifying and reflecting their
astonished faces, their mouths like black caves opening endlessly until sail and ship were
swallowed up and nothing remained but a giggle drifting down from a nearby tree.

FтАЩlTiri snickered. тАЬI forgot to mention that SerrioliaтАЩs children practice their trade
onReality Street. Only the young ones, though. Realists are such easy prey.тАЭ

Kirtn turned toward the tree and bowed, adding a BreтАЩn whistle for good measure. The