"Sheri S. Tepper - Awakeners 2 - Southshore" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

and the dozen or so of them, including Peasimy Plot, struggled around the
perimeter of the place looking for a door.
It opened when they pounded, warmth drifting out into the chill together with a
puff of warm, dry air laden with strange smells and a haze of smoke. Peasimy
coughed. Pamra pressed forward against the warding arm of the doorkeeper, the
others following, gasping, wetter than fish.
They passed down a lengthy corridor into the main hall to stand there stunned at
the scale of the place. It was like standing in a chimney. At one side stairs curved
up to a balcony that spiraled around the open area, twisted up, and up, kept on
going around and around, smaller and smaller, to the seeming limit of their eyes,
where it ended in a dark glassy blot, a tented skylight black with rain. It was,
Pamra thought, like being inside the trunk of a hollow tree with an opening at the
top and all the tree's denizens peering down at you. Heads lined the balconies,
went away to be replaced by others, and throughout the whole great stack of
living creatures came a constant rustle and mumble of talk, a bubbling pulse of
communication that seemed to be one seamless fabric of uninterrupted sound.
From some of the balconies nets hung, littered with a flotsam of clothing and
blankets. From other balconies long, polished poles plunged to lower levels. A
brazier was alight at the center of the floor, its wraiths rising in dim veils in this
towering, smokestack space.
"Come in," said the Mendicant ironically. "So nice to have you."
"It is raining out there," announced Pamra evenly, no whit aware of the sarcasm.
She drew back the cloak that had covered Lila to disclose the child, not at all
discomfited by the soaking she had received.
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 SOUTHSHORE-Awakeners 2



"Wet," affirmed Peasimy. "Dreadful wet. A great flood out of the skies. Mustn't
let her drown. Too important."
"Ah," assented the Mendicant. "And you are?"
"The crusade," said Peasimy. "We are the crusade. Light comes! She is the Bearer
of Truth, the very Mother of Truth."
"Ah," said the Mendicant again, frowning slightly. He had heard of this. All this
segment of Northshore had heard of this, one way or the other. As one of the
Order's more trusted messengers, he had more interest in it than most. A message
had come through Chiles Medman, Governor General of the Order, from Tharius
Don asking the Order to assist in procuring information.
"Trale," he introduced himself. "Mendicant brother of the Jarb. What can I offer
you by way of assistance?"
"Towels," said Pamra simply. "And a fire to dry ourselves. Something hot to
drink if you have it conveniently by." She stared around her, up at the endless
balconies where people came and went, staring down at her, leaving the railings
to others who stared in their turn. Pale blots. Mouths open. Hands moving in
beckoning gestures. Something distressed her, but she could not identify it.
Something was wrong, missing, as though she had forgotten to put on her skirt or
her tunic. She looked down at herself, puzzled. She was damp but fully dressed.
Why, then, this feeling of nakedness?
Trale led them across the hall, through an arch beneath the balcony and into a