"Gene Wolfe - Endangered Species" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)

fore him, dotted with poppies and wild indigo, with fern and
purple-flowered clover. When had he ridden across them
last? He could not remember. Lilacs nodded their honey-
charged panicles.

Sniffing, he sat up, nearly braining himself on the deck
beams.

A faint perfume languished between the mingled stinks of
bilge and candle. When he buried his face in the blanket, he
was certain of it. Just before sleep came, he heard a man's
faint, hoarse sobbing overhead.

He had the last watch, when the ruins dropped from the
angry face of the sun like a frayed mask. By night he had
seen towers; now he saw that those towers were half fallen
and leprous with saplings and rank green vines. As he had
been told, there was no smoke. He would have been willing
to stake all he had that there were no people either.

Eata came on deck carrying bread, dried meat, and steam-
ing mate. "You owe me another asimi," Eata said.

He untied the knots and took it out. "The last one you'll
be getting. Or will you charge me for another day, if you
can't return me to the place where I boarded your boat by
tomorrow morning?"

Eata shook his head.

"The last, then. This spot where three streets meet-is it
on the eastern side? Over there?"

Eata nodded. "See that jetty? Straight in from there for
half a league. We'll be at the jetty before primesong."

Together they turned the little capstan that drew up the
anchor. The stranger broke out the jib while Eata heaved at
the mainsail halyards.

The sea breeze had arrived, raucously announced by a
flock of black and white gulls riding it inland in hope of offal.
Close hauled, the boat showed such heels that the stranger
feared they would ram the disintegrating jetty. He picked up
a pike to use as a boat hook.

At what seemed the last possible moment, Eata swung the
rudder abeam and shot her bow into the wind. "That was
well done," the stranger said.