"Patricia A. McKillip - Alphabet of Thorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

тАЬWe can offer a bed of sorts among the books.тАЭ
The scholar sighed again, this time with relief. тАЬI would be
immensely grateful.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩll see to that, while Nepenthe takes you down to show you
where she will be working on your manuscript. Transcriptors dwell
in the depths. As well, I must warn you, as do visiting scholars.тАЭ
тАЬI trust the depths donтАЩt leak.тАЭ
тАЬNo.тАЭ
тАЭThen IтАЩll sleep happily buried in stone.тАЭ He wrapped his
manuscript again in leather and himself in fur, and followed
Nepenthe.
She led him down and down until mortared stone became solid
stone, until they left even the green plain above them and the only
light came from windows staring across the sea. Until then, he
questioned her; she answered absently, wondering about the fish
wrapped in his arms.
тАЬYou donтАЩt remember anything of your life before the librarians
found you?тАЭ
тАЬHow could I? I had no teeth; I didnтАЩt know words for anything. I
donтАЩt even remember тАФ тАЭ She stopped to light a taper, for the
stairways had begun to plunge into hand-hewn burrowings. тАЬI do
remember one thing. But I donтАЩt know what it is.тАЭ
тАЬWhat is it?тАЭ
She shrugged. тАЬJust a face, I think.тАЭ
тАЬWhose?тАЭ he demanded.
тАЬI donтАЩt know. IтАЩm an orphan, Master Croysus,тАЭ she reminded him
patiently. тАЬA foundling. The librarians have always taken us in;
they train us to become scribes and translators. We get accustomed
early to living and working in stone suspended between sky and
sea.тАЭ
тАЬSo youтАЩre content here?тАЭ
She flung him an uncertain glance, wondering what he meant. тАЬI
donтАЩt think about it,тАЭ she answered. тАЬI have nothing of my own,
nothing thatтАЩs not on loan from the librarians. Not even my name. I
donтАЩt know what else I could choose.тАЭ
тАЬDo you like the work?тАЭ
She smiled, smelling books now, leather bindings, musty
parchments, flaking scrolls that lived with her underground.
тАЬHere,тАЭ she told him, тАЬthere is no time. No past, no future; no place
I canтАЩt go, no lost realm I canтАЩt travel to, as long as I can decipher
its fish.тАЭ
She showed him where she worked. It was a doorless cell lined
with books, a cell in a hive that was itself a cell in the huge hive
that clung by walls and pillars and towers of stone to the immense,
steep cliff rising straight out of the sea. The palace of the rulers of
Raine had grown from a seedling through the centuries. Long ago,
it had been little more than a fortress on the edge of the world,
guarding its portion of thick wood and plain against other
princelings. Through the centuries, the palace had become a small
country itself, existing between sea and air, burrowed deep into the