"Pat Murphy - Iris versus the Black Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Pat)

screeching. Traffic came to a standstill as drivers stopped their cars to stare up at Iris.

She clung to the rope with both hands now. She felt dizzy from looking down at the cars, and she kept
thinking about what would happen if the rope slipped from her hands. She closed her eyes so that she
couldn't see how far she would fall.

Still the gulls carried her upward. The honking of horns and the clangor of the school bell faded with distance.
It was silent, except for the rustling of the gulls' wings as they flapped. Her hands ached and she was alone,
all alone.

Puffs of gray fog swirled around Iris, and she felt its chilly dampness on her hands and her face. When she
opened her eyes, she could see nothing but fog below her, above her, all around her. She clutched the rope
tighter as the grayness pressed against her face.

She kept rising, and she saw something above her, a darker shade within the pale gray fog. More clouds, she
thought, but as she rose toward it she realized that this wasn't clouds, but something more solid. Gray walls,
meeting at tidy right angles with a gray floor.

The gulls carried her closer and she could see a rectangular opening in one wall, a doorway into a courtyard
of neat gray flagstone squares. As she swayed beneath the flock of gulls, she came right up to the doorway,
and then swung away again. Up close, and then away. With each swing, she got a glimpse through the
opening into the courtyard. At each corner of the courtyard was a turreted tower. From the top of each tower,
a black banner flew. A castle in the clouds, supported by nothing but fog.

On the third swing, she let go of the rope with one aching hand and grabbed the edge of the doorway. The
stone was cold against her hand --so cold it felt like it was burning her. Enduring the pain, she pulled herself
through the doorway into the courtyard. The rope slipped from her grasp. She fell and landed with a bump on
the gray floor of the courtyard.

Above her, the flock of gulls wheeled and flew away, heading back to the school yard. All except the largest
gull, the one she thought of as the leader. He landed on a turret, flapped his wings, and settled down to watch
her.

She rubbed her arms and shivered. She was very cold. Her skin was clammy from the fog; her clothes were
damp. She did not know what she was doing here. Her teacher would scold her for flying away with a flock of
gulls, for being late to class. Her mother would yell at her for getting her clothes wet. She was trembling --
from cold or from fear or from some of each -- she couldn't tell.

Standing in the courtyard, she turned in a circle, looking at the walls that surrounded her. The fog was filling
in the doorway through which she had entered. As she watched, the fog solidified, becoming indistinguishable
from the rest of the wall. She stood in the center of the courtyard, hemmed in by gray walls. So tidy and
square.

"What are you doing here?" asked a voice that was as flat and as gray as the stones.

She whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice small and
breathless.

"What are you doing here?" the voice asked again. It was hard and mechanical and cold, the color of steel.