"Roger Zelazny - Amber Chronicles, The 07 - Blood of Amber" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

Roger Zelazny. Blood of Amber

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Roger Zelazny
THE AMBER CHRONICLES - BOOK SEVEN
BLOOD OF AMBER
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REFLECTIONS IN A CRYSTAL CAVE

My life had been relatively peaceful for eight years-not counting April
thirtieths, when someone invariably tried to kill me. Outside of that, my
academic career with its concentration on computer science went well enough
and my four years employment at Grand Design proved a rewarding experience,
letting me use what I'd learned in a situation I liked while I labored on a
project of my own on the side. I had a good friend in Luke Raynard, who
worked for the same company, in sales. I sailed my little boat, I jogged
regularly.
It all fell apart this past April 30, just when I thought things were
about to come together. My pet project, Ghostwheel, was built; I'd quit my
job, packed my gear and was ready to move on to greener shadows. I'd stayed
in town this long only because that morbidly fascinating day was near, and
this time I intended to discover who was behind the attempts on my life and
why.
At breakfast that morning Luke appeared with a message from my former
girlfriend, Julia. Her note said that she wanted to see me again. So I
stopped by her place, where I found her dead, apparently killed by the same
doglike beast which then attacked me. I succeeded in destroying the
creature. A quick search of the apartment before I fled the scene fumed up a
slim packet of strange playing cards, which I took along with me.
They were too much like the magical Tarots of Amber and Chaos for a
sorcerer such as myself not to be interested in them.
Yes.I am a sorcerer. I am Merlin, son of Corwin of Amber and Dara of
the Courts of Chaos, known to local friends and acquaintances as Merle
Corey: bright, charming, witty, athletic. . . . Go read Castiglione and Lord
Byron for particulars, as I'm modest, aloof and reticent, as well.
The cards proved to be genuine magical objects, which seemed
appropriate once I learned that Julia had been keeping company with an
occultist named Victor Melman after we had broken up. A visit to this
gentleman's studio resulted in his attempting to kill me in a ritual
fashion. I was able to free myself from the constraints of the ceremony and
question him somewhat, before local conditions and my enthusiasm resulted in
his death. So much for rituals.
I'd learned enough from him to realize that he'd been but a cat's-paw.
Someone else had apparently put him up to the sacrifice bit-and it seemed
quite possible that the other person was the one responsible for Julia's
death and my collection of memorable April thirtieths.
I had small time to reflect upon these matters, though, because I was
bitten (yes, bitten) shortly thereafter by an attractive red-haired woman