"Liz Williams - Banner of Souls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Liz)

pockmarked with holes and rifts. The fortress rose up at its center, a place of shat-tered spires, half-ruin,
half-home to the city's dispos-sessed, of which there were many.
The fortress was a grim place, but better this, thought Dreams-of-War, than the Crater Plain and the
moun-tains. There, the ordinary women who were not warriors would not fare well against the
men-remnants: the hyenae and vulpen and awts. Better they remain here, living off the verminous birds
that infested the pits of the crater wall.
The fortress passed by; Dreams-of-War once more stared ahead. This long, winding street, fringed
with en-gine shops and child-supply emporia, was the road to the spaceport. She would be coming this
way again tomorrow, in the cold early light, to take a ship for the Chain and Earth: the city known as
Fragrant Harbor. She had been told little enough about her mission. There was a child, it seemed, and the
need to guard her.
Dreams-of-War had done her best to find out more, by devious routes she disliked pursuing, but she
had failed. This in itself was disquieting. Memnos only both-ered to keep closemouthed about those
secrets that were a danger to the bearer, and they had seen fit to tell her noth-ing. Thoughtfully,
Dreams-of-War jostled her way to the front of the rider as it approached the next stop, and stepped
down onto the street.
The medical evaluation was carried out in a Matri-archy building: a weedwood-and-basalt tower
behind thick walls. Dreams-of-War sensed the prickling discom-fort of weir-wards over the exposed
skin of her face as she walked through the gate, but she passed through with-out incident. Inside, she
presented her credentials, but it seemed that they were already expecting her. A woman wearing a
doctor's robe and high red hat ushered her through a hushed corridor into the blacklight cham-ber. The
doctor's hands had been modified, Dreams-of-War noted; a scalpel blade shone briefly beneath one
fingernail.
"You'll have to take that off," the doctor said, barely glancing in the direction of Dreams-of-War.
"Very well." Dreams-of-War stood at the center of the room, before the flickering glitter of the
blacklight matrix. "Armor!"
The armor flowed smoothly from her body, forming for a moment the gaunt figure of its previous
owner. "No, that won't be necessary. I don't want to talk to you. Just keep out of the way."
She watched as the armor folded itself into a small, curdled sphere, no bigger than her fist. It struck
her, somehow, as sad. She glanced down at her own exposed skin. Tattoos covered her arms and
breasts: spirals, spikes, the mathematical gematria of Memnos. The small child-markings were a faded
indigo around her wrists.
"And that," the doctor remarked, glancing at the bands of her black rubbery underhamess. "And we'll
need to do something about your hair." Without asking, the doctor seized a handful of Dreams-of-Wars
pale hair and bundled it up into a knot. Dreams-of-War jerked away, snatching the coil from the doctor's
probing fingers.
"Don't touch me!"
"Stop complaining."
Dreams-of-War stood, fuming, as the doctor made the final preparations.
"Why couldn't this be done in the Memnos Tower? They have a more extensive matrix there."
"It's off-limits for now," the doctor said. "They have a client coming in who wants something special."
"Special?"
"Someone all the way from Io-Beneath, apparently. You know that the matrices can be hired."
Dreams-of-War gave a snort. "For the right price."
"Of course. Now lie down. No, not there. With your feet facing the wall."
Dreams-of-War did as she was instructed. The black-light matrix sparkled over her, causing an itchy
crackle to cross her skin and raise the hair on the back of her neck.
"Are you all right?" the doctor asked, clearly caring lit-tle as to the answer. "Not scared?"
"Of course I am not scared! I do not like the sensation, that is all."
"No one living is supposed to like it. It brings you close to the Eldritch Realm, to the spirit