"Paul McAuley - The Book of Confluence 03 - Shrine of Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

headaches? Any colored lights or spots floating in your vision? Your burns are healing nicely, I
see. Ah, why do you look at me that way? I am your savior!"
"You infected me with this disease, Doctor. Are you worried that it is not progressing as fast
as you wish?"
"It is not a disease, Yamamanama. Do not think of it as a disease. And do not resist it. That
will make things worse for you."
"Where is this place, Doctor? Why have you brought me here? Where are the others?"
He had asked these questions many times before, and Dr. Dismas had not yet answered
them. The apothecary smiled and said, "Our allies gave it to me as a reward for services rendered.
A part payment, I should say, for I have only just begun. We, my dear Yamamanama, have only
just begun. How much we still have to do!"
Dr. Dismas marched across the room and stood for a moment at the great window, his hands
twisted behind his back. But he could not stand still for long, and whirled around and smiled at
Yama. He must have recently injected himself with a dose of the drug, for he was pumped full of
an energy he could not quite control, a small, sleek, perpetually agitated man in a black claw-
hammer frockcoat that reached to his knees, the stiff planes of his brown face propped above the
high collar of his white shirt. He was at once comic and malign.
Yama hated Dr. Dismas, but knew that the apothecary had the answers to many of his
questions. He said, "I am your prisoner, Doctor. What do you want from me?"
"Prisoner? No, no, no. O, no, not a prisoner," Dr. Dismas said. "We are at a delicate stage.
You are as yet neither one thing or another, Yamamanama. A chrysalis. A larva. You think
yourself a power in the world, but you are nothing to what you will become. I promise it. Come
here. Stand by me. Don't be afraid."
"I am not afraid, Doctor." But it was a lie, and Yama knew that Dr. Dismas knew it. The
doctor knew him too well. For no matter how much he tried to stay calm, the residue of his
dreams, the flickering red and black fringes that plagued his sight, the thing growing under his
skin, and the scuttling and crawling and floating machines that infested the room all conspired to
keep him perpetually fearful.
Dr. Dismas began to fit a cigarette into the holder which had been, he claimed, carved from
the finger-bone of a murderer. His concentration on the task was absolute; his left hand had been
bent into a stiff claw by the plaques which grew beneath his skinтАФa symptom of his disease, the
disease with which he had infected Yama. At last it was done, and he lit the cigarette and drew on
it and blew two smoke rings, the second spinning through the first. He smiled at this little trick
and said, "Not afraid? You should be afraid. But I am sure that there is more to it than fear. You
are angry, certainly. And curious. I am sure that you are curious. Come here. Stand by me."
Yama drew on the lessons in diplomacy which his poor dead stepfather, the Aedile of
Aeolis, had so patiently taught him. Always turn any weakness into advantage by admitting it, for
nothing draws out your enemy like an exposed weakness. He said, "I am afraid, Doctor. I am
afraid that I might try to kill you. As you killed Tamora."
"I do not know that name."
Yama's hatred was suddenly so intense that he could hardly bear it. He said, "The cateran.
My companion."
"Ah. The silly woman with the little sword and the bad temper. Well, if I killed her, it is
because she was responsible for the death of Eliphas, who so successfully led you to me. An eye
for an eye, as the Amnan would say. How is your father, by the way? And the stinking little city
he pretends to rule?"
Yama charged at the doctor then, and one of the flock of machines which floated in the big,
airy room swerved and clipped him on the side of the head. One moment he was running
headlong, the next he was sprawled on his back on the rubbery black floor, looking up at the
ceiling. Pain shot through him. His chest and face had been badly seared by the backwash of the