"Nine Princes In Amber 04" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

shaded over into pink.
I bit my lip against the asking of questions.
We passed beneath a bridge and when we emerged on the other side the sky was a normal color again, but there were windmills all over the place, big yellow ones.
"Don't worry," he said quickly, "it could be worse." I noticed that the people we passed were dressed rather
strangely, and the roadway was of brick.
"Turn right"
I did.
Purple clouds covered over the sun, and it began to rain. Lightning stalked the heavens and the skies grumbled
above us. I had the windshield wipers going full speed, but they weren't doing a whole lot of good. I turned on
the headlights and slowed even more.
I would have sworn I'd passed a horseman, racing in the other direction, dressed all in gray, collar turned high and head lowered against the rain.
Then the clouds broke themselves apart and we were riding along a seashore. The waves splashed high and
enormous gulls swept low above them. The rain had stopped and I killed the lights and the wipers. Now the road was of macadam, but I didn't recognize the place at all. In the rear-view mirror there was no sign of the town we had just departed. My grip tightened upon the wheel as we passed by a sudden gallows where a skeleton was suspended by the neck, pushed from side to side by the wind.
Random just kept smoking and staring out of the window as our road turned away from the shore and curved round a hill. A grassy treeless plain swept away to our right and a row of hills climbed higher on our left. The
sky by now was a dark but brilliant blue, like a deep, clear pool, sheltered and shaded. I did not recall having ever
seen a sky like that before.
Random opened his window to throw away the butt, and an icy breeze came in and swirled around inside the car until he closed the window again. The breeze had a sea scent to it, salty and sharp.
"All roads lead to Amber," he said, as though it were an axiom.
Then I recalled what Flora had said the day before. I didn't want to sound like a dunce or a withholder of crucial information, but I had to tell him, for my sake as well as his own, when I realized what her statements implied.
"You know," I began, "when you called the other day and I answered the phone because Flora was out, I've a
strong feeling she was trying to make it to Amber, and that she found the way blocked."
At this, he laughed.
"The woman has very little imagination," he replied. "Of course it would be blocked at a time like this. Ultimately, we'll be reduced to walking, I'm sure, and it will doubtless take all of our strength and ingenuity to make it, if we make it at all. Did she think she could walk back like a princess in state, treading on flowers the whole way? She's a dumb bitch. She doesn't really deserve to live, but that's not for me to say, yet."
"Turn right at the crossroads," he decided.
What was happening? I knew he was in some way responsible for the exotic changes going on about us, but I couldn't determine how he was doing it, where he was getting us to. I knew I had to learn his secret, but I couldn't just ask him or he'd know I didn't know. Then I'd be at his mercy. He seemed to do nothing but smoke and stare, but coming up out of a dip in the road we entered a blue desert and the sun was now pink above our heads within the shimmering sky. In the rear-view mirror, miles and miles of desert stretched out behind us, for as far as I could see. Neat trick, that.
Then the engine coughed, sputtered, steadied itself, repeated the performance.
The steering wheel changed shape beneath my hands.
It became a crescent; and the seat seemed further back, the car seemed closer to the road, and the windshield had more of a slant to it.
I said nothing, though, not even when the lavender sandstorm struck us.
But when it cleared away, I gasped.
There was a godawful line of cars all jammed up, about half a mile before us. They were all standing still and I
could hear their horns.
"Slow down," he said. "It's the first obstacle."
I did. and another grist of sand swept over us.
Before I could switch on the lights, it was gone, and I blinked my eyes several times.
All the cars were gone and silent their horns. But the roadway sparkled now as the sidewalks had for a time, and I heard Random damning someone or something under his breath.
"I'm sure I shifted just the way he wanted us to, whoever set up that block," he said. "and it pisses me off that I did what he expected-the obvious."
"Eric?" I asked,
"Probably. What do you think we should do? Stop and try it the hard way for a while, or go on and see if there are more blocks?"
"Let's go on a bit. After all, that was only the first,"
"Okay." he said, but added, "who knows what the second will be?"
The second was a thing-I don't know how else to describe it.
It was a thing that looked like a smelter with arms, squatting in the middle of the road, reaching down and
picking up cars, eating them.
I hit the brakes.
"What's the matter?" Random asked. "Keep going. How else can we get past them?"
"It shook me a bit," I said, and he gave me a strange, sidelong look as another dust storm came up.
It had been the wrong thing to say, I knew.
When the dust cleared away, we were racing along an empty road once more. And there were towers in the
distance.