"Tepper, Sheri S - A Plague Of Angels - plangel4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

Coyote made an affirmative sound in which a great deal of sadness was mixed. "She left a message with me. For him. If he's still alive when this is over."
"Ah," said Bear.
Coyote started to speak again, then hushed himself, head cocked, listening. There were sounds all around them in the night. Foliage moving. Branches creaking. The sound of movement and assembly.
"Did you talk to the Artemisians?" Coyote asked.
"Umph," came the answer.
Coyote sighed. "We've been scouting, as you suggested. I think the caverns we've come up with will do the job."
Bear scratched his nose, wordlessly. "Big enough?" "I think so. Big enough for moose." "Moose?"
"We found several. Big enough for them."
"Big enough, then."
Coyote nodded. "Think I'll catch a little sleep," he said, curling up and burying his nose in his furry tail. He was not really asleep. He was thinking about his feelings. Before he had language, a time he could remember, he had had a sensory lexicon. There was not only count-smell but also feelfeel, in which grief was a winter's night without warmth or hope of spring, love for one's mate and cubs and kindred was the smell of new grass, hot mouse-flesh, and shared warmth in the den. These things were remembered, even now that he had language, which was not an unmixed blessing. He had words for things most of his kindred did not. Apprehension. Fear. Knowledge of mortality. It was possible he would not live through tomorrow. He might die. He wondered, as men had done for thousands of years, what lay beyond that barrier. "Tired," he murmured, surprised that it came out aloud.
"You say," grumped Bear, throwing himself on the ground. He had no


Sheri S. Tepper
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furry tail long enough to bury his nose in, but his front paws did well enough. iHeaving a deep sigh, which was echoed from all around him in the night, he slept. He had fewer words than Coyote and was thankful for it.

Abasio moved restlessly on his bed, like Coyote, not really awake, not really asleep, and for much the same reason. He had fallen into a light doze when Arakny pulled at his shoulder, telling him to come at once with her
and Tom and Qualary, for something was about to happen. "What time is it'?" he demanded. "Not yet midnight," she replied.
He struggled awake and into the warm clothing Arakny insisted hc put on, then followed her out into the hall where Tom waited to guide thorn through the labyrinth of Gaddi House to the roof. The night was dark, stars hidden behind cloud. Beyond the crags to the north, sheet lighming flashed now and again to the low mutter of approaching thunder.
Tom pointed westward, where they could see a flicker of scattered yellow lights.
"Campfires," said Tom. "The sensors picked them up. And there arc
beings gathering to the north and south. I don't even know what--who they are.
"Who'? Where'?" asked Abasio.
"Creatures. People. Animals. I don't know. There seem to be five bunches, altogether. Two coming from the east, one up the road, one across the canyon. One bunch north, one west, one south. Something Ellel dreamed up, perhaps. I didn't wake the others. No point getting them all upset, but Qualar5 said I had to wake you."
"Where north?" Abasio asked.
"Up on that precipice, and all down both sides of it. It's the only place that actually overlooks the Place of Power. The ones to the south an~l west are in the edges of the forest."
"What are the walkers doing'?" asked Qualary.
Tom frowned. "Waiting. littering. A few of them have fallen ox'cr attacked one another. Four Domer men tried to go out last night. Foolish the .
"Were they--?"
"Three were killed outright. One of them was badly wounded, but he got back in. I think the men killing that one in the marketplace that time was only a fluke. The walker was already broken. If they aren't broken, I don't know if we can kill them at all."
"What's that'?" asked Arakny, head up.


A PLAGUE OF ANGELS 377

They all heard it, a yammering squeal that ran in both directions along
the wall, like a herd of pigs being driven at great speed. "Walkers," said Tom. "They see in the infrared." "lnfra what'?"
"They can see warmth, think of it like that. Maybe they've seen something."
It was not long before they all saw it, the silhouette of a winged form
high upon the precipice, huge and fell against repeated flashes of lightning. "Griffin," whispered Abasio, dumbfounded.
The griffin opened its beak and cried out, a brazen cry that awoke the sky with echoes, sending them back into the canyons, where they crashed from wall to pillar to wall in an avalanche of sound.
Then from the west, an answering cry, the clatter of swords on shields. And from the south, the howl of animal voices.
And from the east, the vrooming of engines and the shout of ganger battle cries. Abasio exclaimed when he heard that.
And from the road below the gate, the ululations of warriors.
"Five," said Arakny in wonder. "Five groups! Olly's prophecy spoke of five champions! It's five whole armies!"
"You're sure all of them are on our side?" asked Tom.
"Those war cries came from warriors of Artemisia," she said. "I believe those to the west are likely Heroes from archetypal villages. As for the animals, they are more likely to be on our side than on the side of the walkers, are they not?"
"And the monsters?"
She shrugged. She didn't know. "They're here! That's something!" Tom nodded slowly, wondering what had brought the groups here at this time. It seemed almost contrived, but he had not been part of any contrivance! Perhaps His Wisdom was right. When the means were correct, the end was inevitable.