Книга только для ознакомления
. The jaws closed quickly around me as I heard a man's voice,
saying, I HAVE KILLED ARION, AND THE BURNING
WILL NEVER STOP. THE LAND IS CURSED. I AM
CURSED. MY LINE IS CURSED. I DIE.
And then, like a last sudden gift, a woman's whisper:
THERE IS POWER IN ALL WORDS, AND IN YOURS ESPECIALLY.
*****
It was the hot fetor that awakened me. I gasped and
coughed and closed my eyes immediately to the fierce and
caustic fumes.
I was sitting upright in very confined quarters.
Slowly I tested my surroundings, my eyes clasped
tightly against the foul biting mist. I stretched my arms, and
to each side I felt slippery leather walls.
It came to me slowly what had happened.
I sat in the dragon's stomach, like a hapless sailor at the
end of an ancient tale.
I cried out in panic and kicked against the pulsing walls,
flailing frantically, but it seemed that the great beast had
settled and fallen asleep, assured by long experience that the
dark corrosives of his stomach would do the rest.
I felt my scars hiss and bubble. The tissue was old and
thick as hide, and it would take hours for the acid to eat
through. There was a fair amount of air, though it was foul
and painful to breathe. What was left to me was the waiting.
For a while, for the space, perhaps, of a dozen
heartbeats, the absurdity of my quest rushed over me like a
harsh, seething wave. Four years of wandering across two
continents, hiding away in castles and marshes, under the
abutments of bridges and in filthy, narrowing alleys,
enduring searing pain in silence
|
