"Julian May - The Intervention" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

no longer betrayed a hint of unease. "Well, I'm going over to watch the fireworks. How about
you?"
The mysterious presence drifted closer, exuding restrained coercion. Oh, yes - it could
force its will on him anytime it liked; the fact that it didn't had ominous implications. It
needed wholehearted cooperation in some scheme again, the sneaky bastard, and very likely
over some considerable span of time. Fat chance!
The Ghost's mind-voice was insistent: We must talk.
"Talk between skyrockets, " Rogi told it rudely. "Nobody invited you here tonight. I've
been waiting for this all winter. Why should I give up my fun?"
He turned his back and set off into the crowd. Nothing restrained him physically or
mentally, but he was aware of the thing following. Bells in the Baker Library tower struck
ten. A brass band was playing "Eleazar Wheelock" over in front of the brilliantly lit Hanover
Inn. The leafless branches of the ancient elms, maples, and locust trees around the snowy
quadrangle were trimmed in twinkling starlights. Streetlamps had been dimmed so the
pseudoflames of the energy torches set up around the campus were the major source of
illumination. They cast a mellow glow over the cheerful waiting throng and the ranks of huge
snow sculptures in front of the college residence halls. In this centennial year of the Great
Intervention, whimsical takeoffs on Milieu themes predominated. There was a flying saucer
with its Simbiari crew marching down the gangplank, each exotic carrying a bucket of frozen
green Jell-O. A hideous effigy of a Krondaku held out a tentacle to take a candy cane from a
smiling human snow-child. Gi engaged in their favorite pursuit were posed in a Kama Sutra
ensemble. Sigma Kappa had produced Snow White and the Seven Poltroyans. Out in the
middle of the College Green was the festival's monumental theme sculpture: a bizarre
armored humanoid like a fairy-tale knight, astride a rampant charger that was almost - but
not quite - a horse. This statue was almost eight meters high.
The Ghost observed: A fair likeness of Kuhal, but the chaliko's a bit off the mark.
"The Outing Club tried to get him to be grand marshal of the crosscountry ski parade, "
Rogi said, "but Cloud put her foot down. Spoilsport. And you can't fool me, Ghost. I know
why you showed up tonight instead of some other time. You wanted to see the Winter
Carnival yourself. " He groped inside his disreputable old blanket-coat and found a leather-
bound flask of Wild Turkey.
There was a choong from a cleared area over beyond Wentworth Street. The first rocket
went up and burst in an umbrella of pink, silver, and blue tinsel extending from horizon to
horizon. The crowd yelled and applauded. Rogi moved into the lee of a giant elm trunk to
escape the wind. He held out the flask. "Une larme de booze?"
Nobody noticed when the container left his gloved hand, tilted in the air, and then
returned to its owner.
Good stuff, said the Family Ghost.
"As if a damned alien Lylmik would know, " Rogi retorted. "Gotcha!" He took three
hefty swallows.
Still seeking solace in the bottle instead of the Unity, I see.
"What's it to you?" Rogi drank again.
I love you. I wish you joy and peace.
"So you always said... just before you gave me a new load of shit to shovel. " He took
another snort, capped the flask, and put it away. The expression on his face as he watched
scarlet fire-flowers bloom above black branches was both cunning and reckless. "Level with
me. What are you, really? A living person or just a manifestation of my own superego?"
The Ghost sighed and said: We're not going to start that all over again, are we?
"You're the one who started it - by coming back to bug me. "
Don't be afraid of me, Rogi. I know there were difficult times in the past -