"Patrick Welch - Statue of Limitations" - читать интересную книгу автора (Welch Patrick)

the offerings from the moat. That was when I approached.

"Hello, wayfarer," one greeted me. "Have you come to honor Our Lady Wisteria?"

"That is the name of the statue?" I pointed.
"Indeed. It is the pleasure of our order to serve her."

"I see." I looked up at the statue. The heat had already dried her completely. "Does she do that every
day?"

"Yes. Each day she weeps for our sins. Are you a believer?"

I blushed. "I follow a different path."

My comment troubled him not at all. "As long as it leads to your salvation, you are indeed blessed and
welcome."

"I thank you for your kind words," and I handed him a gold coin. "For your order and your continued
good work."

"Thank you. May Our Lady smile upon you always."

We'll see. I looked up at the statue one more time, but could learn nothing helpful from here. Which
meant that later I would have to go there.


It was late the following evening, well after the pubs had closed and self-respecting people had gone to
bed, that a non-self-respecting person left his room. I couldn't go through the lobby since I was dressed
in black and carrying a long rope, so I lowered myself over the front porch and down into the quiet
streets. I quickly made my way to the Weeping Nun and walked around the moat. Trying to throw the
rope up and over would be nearly impossible, so I tied one end around my waist, then waded into the
moat and wrapped the remainder around her. Then it was a simple matter of pulling myself up, finding
some purchase, loosening and then flipping up the rope, then climbing up some more.

Well, not that simple, not on the smooth surface with wet shoes. I almost slipped once, and when I
bounded briefly off the statue I heard a muffled boom. That's when I realized the statue was not stone at
all, but metal. And hollow.

Still I reached the top of Our Lady in little time. I hung before her severe countenance, clenched lips,
beak nose, heavy eyebrows. "What is your secret, young lady?" I whispered as I ran my free hand along
her features. Then I found it beneath her jutting eyebrows. Slits, hidden from view, over each eye. Large
enough for me to insert a finger and feel the smooth, hollow interior.

I was smiling when I started back down. Even my eventual fall into the moat didn't dampen my
excitement because now I knew how I could steal the Weeping Nun.


One week later I returned to Cardinaul. Actually it was my third trip, since I had made a brief visit the
night before. This time I was dressed in humble brown robes, ragged growth of beard, rope belt and
woven sandals. I made sure to arrive early before the crowds gathered, but not so early that the