"China Mieville - Iron Council" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mieville China)

They ran, those who could, and the two tardy ran after them, stamping very much like grotesque children. A horseman was visible beyond the battleground, galloping
toward them. Cutter heard his whisper againтАФ тАЬKeep the dogs alive, donтАЩt let them kill the dogs for JabberтАЩs sakeтАЭ тАФbut it was not a command, he ignored it and was
running, as his friends were, for the rough where Fejh had been. They found him spread across the green.

He went and went, the dangling man, he flew, and his stance was stiff and he sped through the air. Through the byways of the swampy estuary, between stubbish
islands, past mangroves and through the arches of their vines, over banks of mulch and mud into karst, rock splints, a serrated landscape.
His companion was a bird, a hare, a jag-wasp the size of a dove, a rockling a fox a cactus-child, always with its tumour of mottlesome flesh moving upon it as it clung
to the dangling man or kept pace with him, impossibly pushing whatever its body was from spire to spire of stone. The dangling man emerged into grassland. For a time
the beast below him was an antelope that ran like none of its kind had ever run.
They went and went, they tore through the scorching scrubland in sped-up time. They went north through little trees and the burnt villages and onward north and their
pace was up and whatever the animal was that followed the man or held to him or flew above him their speed increased and they hunted, watching signs in the earth and
air that only they could see, narrowing in, following, coming after.

CHAPTER FIVE
They gathered Fejh to bury. The strange dogs surrounded the militia bodies and howled for their masters.
The two tardy remaining stood with their legs locked, in slumber. Not all the militia were dead. There was a thin screaming, and fast breathing from those too broken to
crawl away. There were no more than four or five, dying slowly but with all their energy.
As Cutter dug, the horseman came through the frantic dogs. The companions turned their backs on their dead friend, to face him.
He nodded at them, touching the front of his brimmed hat. He was the colour of the dust. His jerkin sun-bleached, his trousers of buck leather and the chaps smoking
with dirt. He had a rifle below his shabrack. On each hip he wore a pepperpot revolver.
The man looked at them. He stared at Cutter, held his right hand cupped by his lips and muttered. Cutter heard him, close-up, as if the mouth was by his ear.
тАЬBest hurry. And weтАЩd best get one of the dogs.тАЭ
тАЬWho are you?тАЭ Cutter said. The man looked to Pomeroy, Elsie, Cutter again, mouthing. When it was his turn Cutter heard: тАЬDrogon.тАЭ
тАЬA susurrator,тАЭ Pomeroy said with distrust, and Drogon turned to him and whispered something across the air. тАЬOh aye,тАЭ Pomeroy answered. тАЬYou can be damn sure of
that.тАЭ
тАЬWhat you doing here?тАЭ said Cutter. тАЬYou come to help us buryтАФтАЭ He had to stop and could only gesture. тАЬWhy you been following us?тАЭ
тАЬLike I told you,тАЭ Drogon whispered. тАЬWe want the same thing. YouтАЩre exiles now, and so am I. WeтАЩre looking for the same thing. I been looking for the Iron Council
for damn years. I wasnтАЩt sure of you, you know. And maybe I still ainтАЩt. WeтАЩre not the only ones looking for the Council, you know that. You know why these fuckers
are here.тАЭ He pointed at a militiaman supine and bloody. тАЬWhyтАЩd you think I followed? I needed to know who you-all are looking out for.тАЭ
тАЬWhatтАЩs he saying?тАЭ said Elsie, but Cutter waved her quiet.
тАЬI still donтАЩt know I trust you, but I been watching you and I know the best chance I gotтАЩs with you. And I showed you your best chance is with me. IтАЩd have gone with
your man if IтАЩd been able, after I heard heтАЩd gone.тАЭ
тАЬHow do you know . . . ?тАЭ Cutter said.
тАЬYou ainтАЩt the only one with your ear to the ground, who knows what he is. But listen, we ainтАЩt got time: it ainтАЩt just him whoтАЩs being followed. This lot were after your
manтАФthey donтАЩt know any more than we do alreadyтАФand thereтАЩs others are after you. Been tracking you since Rudewood. And theyтАЩre gaining. And they ainтАЩt just
militia, either.тАЭ
тАЬWhat? WhatтАЩs coming?тАЭ And what Cutter heard he repeated in terror.
тАЬHandlingers,тАЭ he said.

More frightened of dying alone than of the anger of their enemies, those militia still alive began to call out. They were without plan or intrigueтАФthey cajoled not to any
end but only eager to be spoken to as they lay in the heat.
тАЬHey, hey, hey mate, hey mate.тАЭ тАЬCome on. Come on, then, come on.тАЭ тАЬJabber, my armтАЩs gone man, Jabber, Jabber itтАЩs gone.тАЭ
They were mostly men in their thirties with expressions of pride and resignation that seemed scoured-on; they did not expect or even want quarter, only to be
acknowledged before they died.
The dogs still screamed and circled. Drogon corralled three of the weird-skulled things, herding them with his big horse. He calmed the frantic animals with inaudible
commands.
тАЬWhyтАЩs he helping?тАЭ Elsie said. тАЬWhat does he want?тАЭ
Pomeroy was for killing him, or at least constraining him and leaving him behind.
тАЬDammit, I donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Cutter. тАЬSays he heard what was happening. That heтАЩs out for the Council, too. I donтАЩt know. But look what heтАЩs doneтАФhe couldтАЩve
killed us by now. He saved my lifeтАФtook out the man whoтАЩd sighted me. You saw how he used them guns. And you said yourself, Pom, heтАЩs a thaumaturge.тАЭ