"Michael Swanwick - Trojan Horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

"I'll take that, then."



"Good. I'll bring a mug for your friend, too."



"My friend?" She turned and saw a giant striding through the trees, towering over them, pushing them
apart with two enormous hands. For a dizzy instant, she goggled in disbe-lief, and then the man shrank to
human stature as she remem-bered the size of the saplings.



He grinned. "Hi. Remember me?"



He was a tall man, but like a spacejack, lean and angular. An untidy mass of black curls framed a face
that was not quite handsome but carried an intense freight of will.



"I'm afraidтАж"
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"Tory Shostakovich. I reprogrammed you."



She studied his face carefully. Those eyes. They were fierce almost to the point of mania, but there was
sadness there, too, and-she thought she might be making this up-a hint of pleading, like a little boy who
wants something so desperately he dare not ask for it. She could lose herself in analyzing the nuances of
those eyes. "Yes," she said at last, "I remember you now."



"I'm pleased." He nodded to the Jesuit. "Father Landis."



She eyed him skeptically. "You don't seem your usual morose self, Shostokovich. Is anything wrong?"



"No, it's just a special kind of morning." He smiled at some private joke, returned his attention to Elin. "I