"Connie Willis - Death on the Nile" - читать интересную книгу автора (Willis Connie)

reading his confession from a papyrus.

I go down two more steps, till I am even with the scales, and sit down.

Surely Zoe wonтАЩt be longтАФthereтАЩs nothing in the burial chamber except the coffinтАФand even if she has
gone on ahead to the Hall of Judgment, shell have to come back this way. ThereтАЩs only one entrance to
the tomb. And she canтАЩt get turned around because she has a flashlight. And the book. I clasp my hands
around my knees and wait.

I think about the people on the ship, waiting for judgment. тАЬIt wasnтАЩt as bad as they thought,тАЭ IтАЩd told
Neil, but now, sitting here on the steps, I remember that the bishop, smiling kindly in his white suit, gave
them sentences appropriate to their sins. One of the women was sentenced to being alone forever.

The deceased in the painting looks frightened, standing by the scale, and I wonder what sentence Anubis
will give him, what sins he has committed.

Maybe he has not committed any sins at all, like the clergyman, and is worried over nothing, or maybe
he is merely frightened at finding himself in this strange place, alone. Was death what he expected?

тАЬDeath is the same everywhere,тАЭ ZoeтАЩs husband said. тАЬUnexpected.тАЭ And nothing is the way you
thought it would be. Look at the Mona Lisa. And Neil. The people on the ship had planned on something
else altogether, pearly gates and angels and clouds, all the modern refinements. Prepare to be
disappointed.

And what about the Egyptians, packing their clothes and wine and sandals for their trip? Was death,

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 Death on the Nile


even on the Nile, what they expected? Or was it not the way it had been described in the travel guide at
all? Did they keep thinking they were alive, in spite of all the clues?

The people on the ship were killed by a bomb, like we were. I try to remember the moment it went offтАФ
Zoe reading out loud and then the sudden shock of light and decompression, the travel guide blown out
of ZoeтАЩs hands and Lissa falling through the blue air, but I canтАЩt. Maybe it didnтАЩt happen on the plane.
Maybe the terrorists blew us up in the airport in Athens, while we were checking our luggage.

I toy with the idea that it wasnтАЩt a bomb at all, that I murdered Lissa and then killed myself, like in
Death on the Nile. Maybe I reached into my bag, not for my paperback but for the gun I bought in
Athens, and shot Lissa while she was looking out the window. And Neil bent over her, solicitous,
concerned, and I raised the gun again, and ZoeтАЩs husband tried to wrestle it out of my hand, and the shot
went wide and hit the gas tank on the wing.

I am still frightening myself. If IтАЩd murdered Lissa, I would remember it, and even Athens, notorious for
its lack of security, wouldnтАЩt have let me on board a plane with a gun. And you could hardly commit
some horrible crime without remembering it, could you?

The deceased clutches his papyrus, and I wonder if he has committed some horrible sin. Adultery. Or murder. I
wonder how he died.