"Tad Williams - Monsieur Vergalant's Canard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Tad)

near-silent ticking of small gears and the fiat gilded feet took a juddering
step, then another. "If you please." Henri was apologetic. "Oh my brother, I
am so sorry," Gerard replied, but his tone was still distant, as though he
resented having his memories of the countess sullied by mundane things. He
went to the table and fumbled at the duck's neck for a moment, then found the
catch and clicked it. "The tail seems to move a little slowly," he said.
"Several times tonight I thought I saw it moving out of step with
the legs." The head and neck vibrated for a moment, then the entire upper
structure tipped sideways on its hinge. Glassy-eyed, the shining duck head
lolled as though its neck had been chopped through with an axe. "If it was my
fault, I apologize, Gerard. I do my best, but this duck, it is a very
complicated piece of work. More stops than an organ, and every little
bit crafted like the world's costliest pocketwatch. It is hard to make
something that is both beautiful and lifelike." Vergalant nodded
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emphatically. "True. Only the good Lord can be credited with consistency in
that area." He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and seemed to like
what he saw, for he repeated the head movement with careful gravity. "And the
Lord achieved that with the Comtesse de Buise. She has such lovely eyes,
Henri. Like deep wells. A man could drown in them. You should have seen
her. "I wish I had." The gilded duck shuddered again, ever so slightly, and
then a tiny head appeared in the hollow of the throat. Although it was only a
little larger than the ball of Gerard Vergalant's thumb, the facial
resemblance was notable. "But I cannot make a seeing-glass that will allow me
to look out properly without interfering with the articulation of the throat,"
said the little head. Hair was plastered against its forehead in minute
ringlets. "One cannot have everything." "Still," Gerard replied with
magnificent condescension, "you have done wonderfully well. I could never hope
to make such an impression without you." The rest of the tiny figure emerged,
clothed in sweat-stained garments of gray felt. The little man sat for a
moment atop the decapitated duck, then climbed down its back, seeking toeholds
in the intricate metalwork of the pinfeathers before dropping to the
tabletop. "It was a good night's work, then." Shivering, Henri hurried across
the table toward the bowl of hot water. "Yes, but we cannot yet allow
ourselves to rest." Gerard looked on his brother fondly as Henri pulled off
his loose clothing and clambered into the bowl. "No, do not be alarmed! Take
your bath-- you have earned it. But we do need to develop some new tricks.
Perhaps since it takes in food at one end . . . ? Yes, that might do it. These
people are jaded, and we will need all my most sophisticated ideas -- and your
careful work, which is of course indispensable -- to keep them interested.
That old fop Guineau is very well connected. If we play our hand correctly, we
may soon be demonstrating our magnificent canard for the King himself!" Henri
lowered himself beneath the surface to wet his hair, then rose
again, spluttering and wiping water from his face. "The King?" He opened his
eyes wide. Gerard smiled, then reached into his pocket and produced a tooth
brush. Henri stood and took it, although it was al most too large for his
hands to grasp. As he scrubbed his back, water splashed from the bowl onto the