"Paul McAuley - The Book of Confluence 01 - Child of the River" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

jumped the ha-ha and quickly and silently threaded familiar
paths through the dense stands of rhododendrons which had
colonized the tumbled ruins of the ramparts of the peelhouse's
outer defensive wall. Yama had played endless games
of soldiers and heretics with the kitchen boys here, and knew
every path, every outcrop of ruined wall, all the holes




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in the
ground which had once been guard rooms or stores and the
buried passages between them. He stopped beneath a mature
cork-oak, looked around, then lifted up a mossy stone to
reveal a deep hole lined with stones and sealed with polymer
spray. He pulled out a net bag and a long slender trident
from this hiding place, then replaced the stone and hung the
bag on his belt and laid the trident across his shoulders.
At the edge of the stands of rhododendrons, the ground
dropped away steeply in an overgrown demilune breastwork
to a barrens of tussock grass and scrub. Beyond was the
patchwork of newly flooded paeonin fields on either side of
the winding course of the Breas, and then low ranges of hills
crowded with monuments and tombs, caims and cists: league
upon league of the City of the Dead stretching to the foothills
of the Rim Mountains, its inhabitants outnumbered the living
citizens of Aeolis by a thousand to one. The tombs glimmered
in the cold light of the Galaxy, as if the hills had been dusted
with salt, and little lights flickered here and there, where
memorial tablets had been triggered by passing animals.
Yama took out a slim silver whistle twice the length of
his forefinger and blew on it. It seemed to make no more
than a breathy squeak. Yama blew three more times, then
stuck his trident in the deep, soft leaf mold and squatted on
his heels and, listened to the peeping chorus of frogs that




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stitched the night. The frogs had emerged from their mucus
cocoons a few weeks ago. They had been frantically feeding
ever since, and now they were searching for mates, every
male endeavoring to outdo his rivals with passionate froggy
arias. Dopey with unrequited lust, they would be easy prey.