"Alastair Reynolds - Revelation Space 04 - Absolution Gap" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Alastair)

not so very different. But with Clavain, Scorpio always made a mental note
to ignore his expectations. Clavain was not like other humans. History had
shaped him, leaving behind something unique and quite possibly
monstrous.
Scorpio was fifty. He had known Clavain for half his life, ever since he
had been captured by ClavainтАЩs former faction in the Yellowstone system.
Shortly after that, Clavain had defected from the Conjoiners, and after
some mutual misgivings he and Scorpio had ended up fighting together.
They had gathered a loose band of soldiers and assorted hangers-on from
the vicinity of Yellowstone and had stolen a ship to make the journey to
ResurgamтАЩs system. Along the way they had been hectored and harried by
ClavainтАЩs former Conjoiner comrades. From Resurgam spaceтАФriding
another ship entirelyтАФthey had arrived here, on the blue-green
waterlogged marble of Ararat. Little fighting had been required since
Resurgam, but the two had continued to work together in the
establishment of the temporary colony.
They had schemed and plotted whole communities into existence. Often
they had argued, but only ever over matters of the gravest importance.
When one or the other leant towards too harsh or too soft a policy, the
other was there to balance matters. It was in those years that Scorpio had
found the strength of character to stop hating human beings every waking
moment of his life. If nothing else, he owed that to Clavain.
But nothing was ever that simple, was it?
The problem was that Clavain had been born five hundred years ago
and had lived through many of those years. What if the Clavain that
Scorpio knewтАФthe Clavain that most of the colonists knew, for that
matterтАФwas only a passing phase, like a deceitful glimpse of sunshine on
an otherwise stormy day? In the early days of their acquaintance, Scorpio
had kept at least half an eye on him, alert for any reversion to his
indiscriminate butcher tendencies. He had seen nothing to arouse his
suspicions, and more than enough to reassure him that Clavain was not
the ghoul that history said he was.
But in the last two years, his certainties had crumbled. It was not that
Clavain had become more cruel, argumentative or violent than before, but
something in him had changed. It was as if the quality of light on a
landscape had shifted from one moment to another. The fact that Scorpio
knew that others harboured similar doubts about his own stability was of
scant comfort. He knew his own state of mind and hoped he would never
hurt another human the way he had done in the past. But he could only
speculate about what was going on inside his friendтАЩs head. What he could
be certain about was that the Clavain he knew, the Clavain alongside
whom he had fought, had withdrawn to some intensely private personal
space. Even before he had retreated to this island, Scorpio had reached
the point where he could hardly read the man at all.
But he did not blame Clavain for that. No one would. He continued his
progress until he was certain that the figure was real, and then advanced
further until he was able to discern detail. The figure was crouched down
by the shore of sea, motionless, as if caught in some reverie that had
interrupted an otherwise innocent examination of the tide pools and their
fauna.