"Zelazny, Roger - Amber Short Stories 02 - Salesman's Tale" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

be safe within the ambit of the other Pattern, and
that left me. The walls of the Crystal Cave had the
effect of blocking every paraphysical phenomenon I'd
been able to test them for, and I'd a hunch they'd
screen me from the Pattern's scrutiny as well. It was
just a matter of my getting there before it
shadow-shuffled this far.

I increased my pace. I'd stayed in shape. I could run.
Past rusting cars and swirls of bedsprings, broken
tiles, shattered crates... Down alleys of ashes, up
trails of bottlecaps and pulltabs... Alert. Waiting.
Waiting for the world to spin and waver, to hear the
voice of the Pattern announce, "Gotcha!"

I rounded a bend and caught a glimpse of blue in the
distance. The Junkyard Forest--result of an ancient
Shadow storm--ended abruptly as I entered upon a
downward slope, to be succeeded within paces by a wood
of the more normal variety.

Here, I heard a few birdcalls as I passed, and the
humming of insects, above the steady striking of my
feet upon the earth. The sky was overcast, and I could
tell nothing of temperature or wind because of my
activity. The shimmering mound of blue grew larger. I
maintained my pace. By now, the others should be safe,
if they'd made it at all. Hell! By now they should be
well out of harm's way. Just a little while in this
time-stream was a much longer time back on the main
drag. They could be sitting around eating and joking
by now. Even napping. I bit back a curse to save
breath. That also meant that the Pattern could have
been searching for even longer than it seemed...
Larger, even larger now, the blue ridge. I decided to
see how well my finishing spurt had held up, and I
went into high gear and held it there.

The earth and air were vibrated by what seemed a
rumble of thunder. It could be a reaction of the irate
design on having finally located me. I could also just
be a rumble of thunder.

I kept pumping, and moments later, it seemed, I was
braking so as not to smash up against that crystal
base. No lightning bolts yet, and I scrambled for hand
and toeholds--never having tried climbing this face of
it before--as my lungs worked like a bellows and a
light rain began to fall, mingling with a layer of my
perspiration. I left bloody smears on the stone, but