"Guns Of Avalon 05" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

"I haven't asked him," I told her. "Do you understand their significance?"
"There were certain things I was not allowed to do when I was near them. I gather that they have a special use, but he never told me what it is. They are quite important, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. He is always so careful with them. Do you have a set?"
"Yes, but it's out on loan just now."
"I see. And you would like to use them for something complicated and sinister."
I shrugged.
"I would like to use them, but for very dull, uncomplicated purposes."
"Such as?" I shook my head.
"If Benedict does not want you to know their function yet, I am not about to tell you."
She made a small growling noise.
"You're afraid of him," she said.
"I have considerable respect for Benedict, not to mention some affection." She laughed.
"Is he a better fighter than you, a better swordsman?"
I looked away. She must have just gotten back from someplace fairly removed from things. The townspeople I'd met had all known about Benedict's arm. It was not the sort of news that traveled slowly. I certainly was not going to be the first to tell her.
"Have it as you would," I said. "Where have you been?"
"The village," she said, "in the mountains. Grandpa took me there to stay with some friends of his called Tecys. Do you know the Tecys?"
"No, I don't."
"I've been there before," she said. "He always takes me to stay with them in the village when there is any sort of trouble here. The place has no name. I just call it the village. It is quite strange-the people, as well as the village. They seem to-sort of-worship us. They treat me as if I were something holy, and they never tell me anything I want to know. It is not a long ride, but the mountains are different, the sky is different -everything!-and it is as if there were no way back, once I am there. I had tried coming back on my own before, but I just got lost. Grandpa always had to come for me, and then the way was easy. The Tecys follow all of his instructions concerning me. They treat him as if he were some sort of god."
"He is," I said, "to them."
"You said that you do not know them."
"I don't have to. I know Benedict."
"How does he do it? Tell me." I shook my head.
"How did you do it?" I asked her. "How did you get back here this time?"
She finished her wine and held out the glass. When I looked up from refilling it, her head was cocked toward her right shoulder, her brows were furrowed, and her eyes were focused on something far away.
"I do not really know," she said, raising the glass and sipping from it automatically, "l am not quite certain how I went about it. . . ."
With her left hand, she began to toy with her knife, finally picking it up.
"I was mad, mad as hell for having beed packed off again," she said. "I told him that I wanted to stay here and fight, but he took me riding with him and after a time we arrived at the village. I do not know how. It was not a long ride, and suddenly we were there. I know this area. I was born here, I grew up here. I've ridden all over, hundreds of leagues in all directions. I was never able to find it when I went looking. But it seemed only a brief while that we rode, and suddenly we were at the Tecys' again. But it had been several years, and I can be more determined about things now that I am grown. I resolved to return by myself."
With the knife, she began scraping and digging at the ground beside her, not seeming to notice what she was doing.
"I waited till nightfall," she went on, "and studied the stars to take my direction. It was an unreal feeling. The stars were all different. I didn't recognize any of the constellations. I went back inside and thought about it. I was a little bit afraid and did not know what to do. I spent the next day trying to get more information out of the Tecys and the other people in the village. But it was like a bad dream. Either they were stupid or they were purposely trying to confuse me. Not only was there no way to get from there to here, they had no idea where 'here' was and were none too certain about 'there.' That night I checked the stars again, to be sure about what I had seen, and I was about ready to begin believing them."
She moved the knife back and forth as if honing it now, smoothing the soil and packing it flat. Then she began to trace designs.
"For the next several days, I tried to find my way back," she continued. "I thought I could locate our trail and backtrack along it, but it just sort of vanished. Then I did the only other thing I could think of. Each morning I struck out in a different direction, rode until noon, then headed back. I came across nothing that was familiar. It was totally bewildering. Each night I went to sleep more angry and upset over the way things were turning out-and more determined to find my own way back to Avalon. I had to show Grandpa that he could no longer dump me like a child and expect me to stay put.
"Then, after about a week, I began having dreams. Nightmares, sort of. Did you ever dream that you were running and running and not going anyplace? That is sort of what it was like-with the burning spider web. Only it wasn't really a spider web, there was no spider and it wasn't burning. But I was caught in this thing, going around it and through it. But I wasn't really moving. That is not completely right, but I do not know how else to put it. And I had to keep trying- actually, I wanted to-to move about it. When I woke up I was tired, as if I had actually been exerting myself all night long. This went on for many nights, and each night it seemed stronger and longer and more real.
"Then this morning I got up, the dream still dancing in my head, and I knew that I could ride home. I set out, still half dreaming, it seemed. I rode the entire distance without stopping once, and this time I paid no special heed to my surroundings, but kept thinking of Avalon-and as I rode, things kept getting more and more familiar until I was here again. Only then did it seem as if I were fully awake. Now the village and the Tecys, that sky, those stars, the woods, the mountains, they all seem like a dream to me. I am not at all certain that I could find my way back there. Is that not strange? Can you tell me what happened?"
I rose and circled the remains of our lunch. I sat down beside her.
"Do you remember the looks of the burning spider web that really wasn't a spider web, or burning?" I asked her.
"Yes-sort of," she said.
"Give me that knife," I said.
She passed it to me.
With its point, I began adding to her doodling in the dirt, extending lines, rubbing some out, adding others. She did not say a word the entire time, but she watched every move that I made. When I had finished, I put the knife aside and waited for a long, silent while. Then, finally, she spoke very softly.
"Yes, that is it," she said, turning away from the design to stare at me. "How did you know? How did you know what I had dreamed?"
"Because," I said, "you dreamed a thing that is inscribed in your very genes. Why, how, I do not know. It demonstrates, however, that you are indeed a daughter of Amber. What you did was walk in Shadow. What you dreamed was the Great Pattern of Amber. By its power do those of the blood royal hold dominion over shadows. Do you understand what I am talking about?"
"I am not certain," she said. "I do not think so. I have heard Grandpa cursing shadows, but I never understood what he meant."
"Then you do not know where Amber truly lies."
"No. He was always evasive. He told me of Amber and of the family. But I do not even know the direction in which Amber lies. I only know that it is far."
"It lies in all directions," I said, "or any direction one chooses. One need but-"
"Yes!" she interrupted. "I had forgotten, or thought he was just being mysterious or humoring me, but Brand said exactly the same thing a long while ago. What does it mean, though?"
"Brand! When was Brand here?"
"Years ago," she said, "when I was just a little girl. He used to visit here often. I was very much in love with him and I pestered him mercilessly. He used to tell me stories, teach me games . . ."
"When was the last time you saw him?"