"Kim Stanley Robinson - The Years Of Rice And Salt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

watches of the night to check the stars and throw more branches on his fire. He was cold.

He woke again, and there was Temur's ghost standing across the fire, the light of the flames dancing over
his awesome face. His eyes were black as obsidian, and Bold could see stars gleaming in them.
'So,' Temur said heavily, 'You ran away.'

'Yes,' Bold whispered.

'What's wrong? Don't want to go out on the hunt again?'

This was a thing he had said to Bold before. At the end he had been so weak he had had to be carried
on a litter, but he never thought of stopping. In his last winter he had considered whether to move east in
the spring, against China, or west, against the Franks. During a huge feast he weighed the advantages of
each, and at one point he looked at Bold, and something on Bold's face caused the Khan to jump him
with his powerful voice, still strong despite his illness: 'What's wrong, Bold? Don't want to go out on the
hunt again?'

That earlier time Bold had said, 'Always, Great Khan. 1 was there when we conquered Ferghana,
Khorasan, Sistan, Kbrezm and Mughalistan. One more is fine by me.'

Temur had laughed his angry laugh. 'But which way this time, Bold? Which way?'

Bold knew enough to shrug. 'All the same to me, Great Khan. Why don't you flip a coin?'

Which got him another laugh, and a warm place in the stable that winter, and a good horse in the
campaign. They had moved west in the spring of the year 784.

Now Temur's ghost, as solid as any man, glared reproachfully at Bold from across the fire. 'I flipped the
coin just like you said, Bold. But it must have come up wrong.'

'Maybe China would have been worse,' Bold said.

Temur laughed angrily. 'How could it have been? Killed by lightning? How could it have been? You did
that, Bold, you and Psin. You brought the curse of the west back with you. You never should have come
back. And 1 should have gone to China.'

'Maybe so.' Bold didn't know how to deal with him. Angry ghosts needed to be defied as often as they
needed to be placated. But those jetblack eyes, sparkling with starlight
Suddenly Temur coughed. He put a hand to his mouth, and gagged out something red. He looked at it,
then held it out for Bold to see: a red egg. 'This is yours,' he said, and tossed it over the flames at Bold.

Bold twisted to catch it, and woke up. He moaned. The ghost of Temur clearly was not happy.
Wandering between worlds, visiting his old soldiers like any other preta ... in a way it was pathetic, but
Bold could not shake the fear in him. Temur's spirit was a big power, no matter what realm it was in. His
hand could reach into this world and grab Bold's foot at any time.

All that day Bold wandered south in a haze of memories, scarcely seeing the land before him. The last
time Temur visited him in the stables had been difficult, as the Khan could no longer ride. He had looked
at one thick black mare as if at a woman, and smoothed its flank and said to Bold, 'The first horse 1 ever
stole looked just like this one. 1 started poor and life was hard. God put a sign on me. But you would