"Jody Lynn Nye - School Of Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nye Jody Lynn)
it, enjoying it. Influence felt more powerful here than it did in her home town of Wandering, as though the
Sleeper had His or Her dream eye fixed on Mnemosyne, and all other places lay in the periphery. A tingle
raced down her arms, and she rubbed her fingers over her palms, feeling the electricity of change. In the
ever-shifting world of the Dreamland, the creative ones whose minds created the landscape were always
experimenting, testing, perfecting. Juele welcomed the changes, though they left her no wiser as to the
eventual pattern that the Sleepers had in mind for her. She caught Rutaro looking at her with a curious
expression in his eyes. Did he disapprove? She found sheтАЩd been made a little taller than she had been and
hoped it helped her look more mature.
тАЬWe all have a great deal to teach one another, pupil and teacher alike, so youтАЩll find that weтАЩre all equal
here,тАЭ he was saying, as they walked out into the full sunshine. The character of the light had altered slightly
in the wake of the influence, opening up the skies and making them bluer. тАЬWe do talk to one another about
problems we have each solved. It is most stimulating to hear what other minds think and aspire to. I look
forward to seeing what you have to teach us, too.тАЭ
тАЬIt sounds wonderful,тАЭ Juele said. тАЬJust what IтАЩve always wanted.тАЭ Rutaro smiled, the corners of his eyes
crinkling upward. He was an agreeable-looking but not particularly handsome man, about a head taller than
Juele, with intense, brown eyes that seemed to bore into her. He had a small, blunt nose slightly turned up at
the tip, but the nostrils curled haughtily in the corners. His hair was a mass of dark curls that fell to his
collar, his skin was tawny, and his clothes curiously old-fashioned. She studied them, hoping it didnтАЩt look
as if she was staring. Under a white artistтАЩs smock, which he wore like the robe of royalty, his garments
seemed to be about a hundred years out of date. His plum-colored breeches were of velveteen, his shirt of
fine white cloth with ruffles at the wrists that fell over the backs of his hands almost to the knuckles. He
wore a waistcoat woven in a complicated pattern but subdued colors, as if to say that here was a complex
person that one would have to examine closely to understand. She also noticed that he hadnтАЩt changed in the
alteration, but she didnтАЩt dare ask.
on his lips. тАЬI am modeling for Peppardine today. HeтАЩs been working on this period illusion for some time. I
have to keep reminding myself of what I looked like, bringing back the same thoughts I had on that day, and
mold myself accordingly. I mustnтАЩt let the form go, no matter what the Sleepers send. HeтАЩs counting on me.тАЭ
тАЬOh,тАЭ said Juele, letting out a little breath. So everyone acted as models and teachersтАФso how did one
tell who was a student and who wasnтАЩt? How very confusing. She meant to straighten that out at once. She
was here to get an education, not just teach what she knew. тАЬEr, who is Peppardine? A teacher?тАЭ
Rutaro looked at her as if she had just asked who the Sleepers were. тАЬHe is my friend,тАЭ Rutaro said at
last. тАЬA fellow student. And a brilliant artist, as you will find out.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm sorry,тАЭ Juele said. Rutaro waved away her apology.
тАЬNever mind. This is the Main Quadrangle,тАЭ he said, holding out his hand to encompass the wide green
park surrounded by buildings. Flowers of glorious red and yellow bloomed in artfully arranged beds at the
corners of the square. A few trees, venerable and lovely, rose from the perfectly manicured lawn. On a few
gray stone benches arranged around the perimeter and in a ring at the center of the garden where four paths
intersected, men and women sat or lay. A few were just enjoying the sun. Some of them had sketch pads on
their laps. Others had easels or pedestals and were capturing the beauty of the day in small ways. Juele
caught sight of a perfect miniature model of the main building forming between the hands of a man with
white hair and a creased face. Something in it wasnтАЩt quite right, and the man frowned at it from several
angles, trying to see what was wrong. Juele knew that kind of concentration. Becoming impatient with his
creation, the man waved his arms, exerting his own strength of will, and the building itself changed. Now,
model and work matched perfectly. Here, Life imitated Art.
The buildings, like the gardens, were very beautiful. Juele squinted at them in the bright light, wondering
if she could tell how they had altered under the influence. Yes, she could. The bricks were longer and
thinner, and the lintels of the doors had swan-neck finials on top instead of fan windows. All was still
beautiful and in satisfying proportion, with color and texture that was attractive to the eye. The Sleepers
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