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

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 that should
soon wash away.
Achieving the summit, I rushed to its opening on all fours and entered feet
first, hanging, then dropping into the dark interior despite the presence of a
ladder. Haste was all. Not until I stood within that shadowy blueness, still
puffing, did I feel at all safe. As soon as I caught my breath I allowed myself
to laugh. I had done it. I had escaped the Pattern. I walked about the chamber
beating upon my thighs and slapping the walls. A victory such as this tasted
good, and I would not let it pass unmarked. I hustled back to the larder,
located a bottle of wine, opened it, and took a drink. Then I repaired to a side
cavern which still contained a sleeping bag, seated myself upon it, and
continued to chuckle as I reenacted in my mind our experience there at the
primal Pattern. My lady Nayda had been so magnificent. So had Merlin, for that
matter. Now...
I wondered whether the Pattern really held grudges. That is, how long would
it be before it was safe to me to go forth without feeling in imminent peril? No
real way to tell. Unfortunate. Still, the Pattern must have too much to occupy
it to behave in any manner similar to those people who hung about in its
vicinity-i.e., Amberites. Mustn't it? I took another drink. I might be here for
a long time.
I would use a spell to alter my appearance, I decided. When I left here I
would have dark hair and a beard (over the beginnings of a real beard), gray
eyes, a straight nose, higher cheekbones, and a smaller chin. I would seem
taller and a lot thinner. I would switch from my usual bright ones to dark
garments. Not just some light, cosmetic spell either. It would have to be a
strong one, with depth and substance to it.
Musing upon this, I got up and went in search of food. I found some tinned
beef and biscuits, and I used a small spell to heat a can of soup. No, that was
not a violation of the physical laws of the place. The crystal walls block
sendings in and out, but my spells came in with me and operated as normal in the
interior.
Eating, I thought again of Nayda, of Merlin, and of Coral. Whatever was
happening to them--good or bad--time was favoring them in getting it done. Even
if I stayed here for but a short while developments back home would be
incommensurate with time's apparent lapse here. And what kind of time did the
Pattern really keep? All of them, I supposed--that is to say, its own--but I
also felt it to be especially keyed to the mainline of its flow in Amber. In