"McCarty, Dennis - Thlassa Mey 01 - Flight to Thlassa Mey UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCarty Dennis)

there was a broad moustache which also contained much
of that neutral color. The nose was long and straight, the
mouth well formed below its boundary of mustache,
the jaw angular.

The man slept without resting. He writhed upon the
cot, throwing back the blanket, kicking it away with long
legs. He groaned- Broad arms shielded the face, as if from
blows or some other form of abuse. Sweat crawled across
his features. He was having a nightmare.

With a cry, he bolted upright, blue eyes staring into
the darkness. His breath came in gasps. He sat for a
moment with his hands clutching his face, breathed deeply,
then swung his legs over the edge of the cot. Rising
unsteadily, he staggered to the room's single window and
leaned against the casing, gazing out at the predawn lights
of Buerdaunt.

He smiled. It was a bitter smile, this smile of his, full
of anguish and woe. As he peered out through the narrow
opening, he spoke a weary speech to no one but himself:

"The dead humiliation of my past still pierces me with
memory's sharp lance. A wicked jest it is: relentless Time
rolls on. He cycles forward, searing me with flames and

DENNIS MCCARTY 3

stale regrets at every turn." He paused to heave a great
sigh. "0 Pallas' 0 thou Maiden whom I wronged. Oh,
would that I could once reverse the wheel, undo the deed
that makes such racking nights as these."

He turned from the window and began to dress for the
day, still speaking to himself. "Ah, well, the past won't
be erased by longing. Were that so, I'd laugh all day.
There'll be no sleep till eventide comes 'ro"nd so best
that I bestir myself. The past that ne'er may be forgot
might still be worked to death. Stout labor is my faithful
friend."

It was a puzzling scene. But while this eariy riser
dressed, the rest of the city of Buerdaunt also awakened.
In the gaining light of the new day, the streets filled and
came to life. Great towers gleamed in the rising sun and
pennants above the high walls crackled and snapped in
the morning breeze.

The great marketplace was one of the first districts to