"Tad Williams - Otherland 1 - City of Golden Shadows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Tad)

"No! No, I . . . I do not feel well today."
"I AM NOT SURPRISED. THERE IS A FOUL SMELL ABOUT THE PLACE." The ozone stench grew stronger,
and through his laced fingers Paul could see the light flickering again. "AS A MATTER OF FACT, IT
SMELLS LIKE A MAN."
"H-how . . . how could that be?"
"WHY DO YOU NOT LOOK ME IN THE EYE, LITTLE SONGBIRD? SOMETHING IS AMISS HERE." The steps grew
closer. The floor shuddered, and Paul could hear a discordant creaking like a bridge in high wind.
"I BELIEVE THERE IS A MAN HERE. I BELIEVE YOU HAVE HAD A VISITOR."
"Run!" the bird woman screamed. Paul cursed and staggered to his feet, surrounded by head-high
branches. A vast shadow hung over the room, blocking the soft gray light from the windows,
replacing it with the stark blue-white of its own nimbus of sparks. Paul flung himself forward,
smashing through the clinging leaves, his heart beating like a greyhound's. The door . . . if he
could only find the door again.
"SOMETHING SCURRYING IN THE SHRUBBERY." The titan's voice was amused. "WARM FLESH . . . AND
WET BLOOD . . . AND CRISP LITTLE BONES."
Paul splashed through the pond and almost lost his balance. He could see the door, only a few
yards away, but the great clanking thing was just behind him.
"Run!" the woman pleaded. Even in his terror he knew that she would suffer some dreadful
punishment for this; he felt that he had somehow betrayed her. He reached the door and flung
himself through, skidding and then rolling on the smooth stone floor. The huge gate stood before
him, and thank God, thank God, it was open!
A hundred steps, maybe more, difficult as running in treacle. The whole castle shook beneath
his pursuer's tread. He reached the door and flung himself through and out into what had been
sunlight, but was now twilight-gray. The topmost branches of the great tree stood just above the
edge of the clouds, a seemingly impossible distance away. Paul bolted toward it across the field
of clouds.
The thing was pushing through the door--he heard the great hinges squeal as it forced its way.
Lightning-scented air billowed past him, almost knocking him off his feet, and a great roar filled
the sky: the Old Man was laughing.
"COME BACK, LITTLE CREATURE! I WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU!"
Paul sprinted across the cloud-trail, his breath scorching in his lungs. The tree was a little
closer now. How fast would he have to climb down to move beyond the reach of that terrible thing?
Surely it couldn't follow him--how could even the great tree bear the weight of such a
monstrosity?
The clouds below his feet stretched and jounced like a trampoline as the Old Man stepped from
the castle. Paul tripped and fell forward; one of his hands came down to the side of the trail,
pushing through the cloud surface as through cobwebs. He scrambled to his feet and sped forward
again--the tree was only a few hundred paces away now. If he could only. . . .
A great gray hand as big as a steam shovel curled around him, a thing of cables and rivets and
rusting sheet iron. Paul screamed.
The clouds fell away as he was jerked high into the air, then turned to dangle in front of the
Old Man's face. Paul screamed again, and heard another cry, dim but mournful, echo from the
distant castle--the keening of a caged bird.
The Old Man's eyes were the vast cracked faces of tower clocks, his beard a welter of curling,
rusted wire. He was impossibly huge, a giant of iron and battered copper pipes and slowly turning
wheels that steamed at every crack, every vent. He stank of electricity and grinned a row of
concrete tombstones.
"GUESTS MAY NOT LEAVE BEFORE I CAN ENTERTAIN THEM." Paul felt the bones of his skull vibrate
from the power of the Old Man's voice. As the great maw opened wider, Paul kicked and struggled in
the cloud of choking steam.