"Roger Zelazny - Hall Of Mirrors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

I slammed Grayswandir back into the scabbard.
"Nothing," I said. "Go bother someone else."
I shook the reins, and Shask moved forward.
"Shoot him down!" the man cried.
The men on either side of the trail released their crossbow bolts, as
did the other man before me. All four bolts from the sides passed through
Shask, three of the men injuring or killing their opposite numbers. The one
from ahead passed through me without pain or discomfort. An attempted sword
blow achieved nothing for my first assailant.
"Ride on," I said.
Shask did so and we ignored their swearing as we went.
"We seem to have come into a strange situation," I observed.
The beast nodded.
"At least it kept us out of some trouble," I said.
"Funny. I'd a feeling you would have welcomed trouble," Shask said.
I chuckled.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," I replied. "I wonder how long the spell lasts?"
"Maybe it has to be lifted."
"Shit! That's always a pain."
"Beats being insubstantial."
"True."
"Surely someone back at Amber will know what to do."
"Hope so."
We rode on, and we encountered no one else that day. I felt the rocks
beneath me when I wrapped myself in my cloak to sleep that night. Why did I
feel them when I didn't feel a sword or a crossbow bolt? Too late to ask
Shask whether he had felt anything, for he had turned to stone for the
night.
I yawned and stretched. A partly unsheathed Grayswandir felt normal
beneath my fingers. I pushed it back in and went to sleep.
Following my morning ablutions, we rode again. Shask was taking well to
hellrides, as well as most Amber mounts did. Better, in some ways. We raced
through a wildly changing landscape. I thought ahead to Amber, and I thought
back to the time I'd spent imprisoned in the Courts. I had honed my
sensitivity to a very high degree through meditation, and I began to wonder
whether that, coupled with other strange disciplines I'd undertaken, could
have led to my intangibility. I supposed it might have contributed, but I'd
a feeling the Dancing Mountains were the largest donor.
"I wonder what it represents and where it came from?" I said aloud.
"Your homeland, I'd bet," Shask replied, "left especially for you."
"Why did you read it that way?"
"You've been telling me about your family as we rode along. I wouldn't
trust them."
"Those days are past."
"Who knows what might have happened while you were away? Old habits
return easily."
"One would need a reason for something like that."
"For all you know, one of them has a very good one."
"Possibly. But it doesn't seem likely. I've been away for some time,
and few know I'm free at last."