"Julian May - Trillium 3 - Sky Trillium" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

home. Denby lay there snoring gently, a smile on his furrowed lips, quite safe,
while his would-be murderer fumed and fretted. The reason for the failure was
unfathomable but the impossibility remained.

Shaking his head in self-disgust, the prisoner replaced the glass knife on the
platter of juicy ladu that was to have been their dessert. With a last uneasy
glance at the unconscious madman, he hurried out of the room.

It took only a moment to snatch up the sack of warm clothing and stolen magical
implements he had secreted in a cupboard in the salon anteroom. Then he was
off, running down the dim, silent corridors toward the chamber of the dead
woman, located nearly two leagues away in another quadrant of the Dark Man's
Moon.

The prisoner knew he had no time to waste. The sindona messengers and bearers

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were withdrawn into the Garden Moon as usual, but there was no telling when
one or another of the terrible living statues might decide to cross over and seek
out their lunatic master on some cryptic errand. Should a sindona find Denby
drugged, it would know in an instant what had happened and call out the
sentinels.

And if those beautiful demons caught up with the prisoner, he would die. The
sentinels would discover the new empowerment of his Star, and not even
Denby's senile whimsy would suffice to spare his life.

The fleeing man paused for an instant. Clasping the heavy platinum medallion
engraved with a many-pointed image that hung around his neck, he called upon
its magic to survey his prison. The Star reported that the aged enchanter was still
unconscious and no sindona were abroad. The only things that moved in the
Dark Man's Moon were the tenders, those odd mechanical contrivances that
crept about on jointed legs like great metallic Hngits, doing domestic chores.

One of these machines confronted the prisoner now, coming suddenly into view
around the corridor's sharp curve. It carried a basket of flameless lamp-globes
and moved patiently along, "sniffing" with one of its armlike appendages,
seeking burned-out ceiling lights that might require replacement.

"Out of my way, thing!" The prisoner barged past the bulky device, nearly
upsetting it and causing its collection of glowing globes to spill onto the floor.
His foot landed on one of the lights and he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

"I beg pardon, master," the lamp-tender said humbly. "Are you injured? Shall I
summon one of the consolers to treat you?"