"S. P. Somtow - The Fallen Country" - читать интересную книгу автора (Somtow S. P)

They circled the tower, for a minute Billy revelled in the rushing of the wing-made wind. The
dragon's flight was a dance that almost seemed like joy. But when Billy asked the dragon, "Are you
happy, Snow Dragon? Has my coming done this to you, then?" the dragon's swooping seemed to
lose its passion.

The dragon said, "Now, Billy, isn't rescuing princesses one of the oldest compulsions of your world?
Isn't it what every earth creature longs to do?"

"I wouldn't know," said Billy, who didn't always do too well in school, and did not know of such
things as myths. "Where's the princess?"

"In the castle, of course. And nowтАФ" they were skimming the turret's edge, almost, and the
windrush had become still тАФ "you must do what you know best how to do."
"I don't know what you mean!"

"Your anger, Billy ..."

And Billy understood, then, what he was capable of doing. He took the anger inside him, he
thought of Pete and of terrible nights lying awake and burning for vengeance, he concentrated all
this anger until it took shape, took form... a bridge sprang up where the dragon had hovered,
clawing the emptiness тАФ a bridge of thin ice, as though someone had sliced up a skating rink and
slung it into the sky. The bridge ran all the way to a round window, gaping with serrations like a
monster's mouth, at the top of the tower. Billy sprang lightly from the dragon's back. He looked
down for a moment, thinking I should be scared
but I'm not, I'm too angry.

Beneath him the whiteness stretched limitlessly. He could not be scared; you could not gauge the
distance of things at all, the ground seemed cushiony-soft, not a death-trap at all. He took a couple
of steps on the bridge. It was slippery. He looked at the dark yawning jaws of the window, feeling
no fear, fuelled instead by his terrible anger, and he began walking.

He leapt gingerly from the bridge into the room; he expected it to be dark but it was lit by the same
depressing sourceless light mat [sp?] illuminated the world outside. The princess was-chained to the
wall. He closed his eyes and shattered the chains with a swift spurt of anger, and the princess came
towards him. She was a typical blonde, boyish, unvoluptuous princess like the ones in Disney
cartoons, with kohl-darkened eyelashes fluttering over expressionless glittering eyes that seemed
almost faceted like an insect's. She did not smile, but walked towards him stiffly and thanked him.

"ThatтАЩs all I get?" he said.

"What did you expect?" said the princess. Her voice was like the dragon's voice: thin, toneless,
uninterested.

"Buy [sp?] expectedтАФ"

The princess laughed. "Expected what? Something strange and beautiful and romantic? How can
that be, with him up there, watching, watching? He'll catch me again, don't you fret."

"I want to kill him."