"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 12 - Eloise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

with vibrant tones; a strange, disturbing melody carried over the
throbbing strum of the accompaniment, a masterly
demonstration of skill.

It roared, softened, rose to fade again to a stirring whisper,
against which the resonant voice of the minstrel echoed like an
organ.

"On such a trip as this who knows what might befall us? Life?
Death? Riches or poverty, space holds them all. Those who
search must surely find. Happiness. Contentment. Paradise
itself, perhaps." The strumming grew louder, harsh chords rising
above it, reaching a crescendo, falling with startling abruptness
into silence. A silence in which echoes whispered from the walls,
the floor, the roof of the passage.

A whispering vibration against which the organ-like voice,
muted now, had the impact of a sharpened spear.

"And, who knows, perhaps even Earth itself!"




Chapter Three


Eloise had taken special care, setting out a tray of tiny cakes,
crisp things adorned with abstract designs and bright with
touches of color. Another tray bore goblets of fine crystal placed
close to decanters of sombre red and vivid blue wine. The liquids
of forgetfulness, thought Adara bleakly. Forgetfulness and a false
courage; the poison which numbed minds and made even the
prospect of imminent conversion a bearable concept. Protection
against what was to come. A defense for himself at least, though
the woman did not seem to need such aid. He glanced at where
she sat, lounging in the deep chair at the far side of the room;
the curtains drawn back from the window at her side to reveal
the city beyond, the spires and pinnacles, the rounded domes,
the streets and buildings which stood in their mathematically
precise arrangement, coldly white beneath the pale glow of the
stars.

She said, "If the sight bothers you the curtains can be closed."

"No." He dragged his eyes from the window. "It does not
bother me."

"Not the darkness? The cold?"