JК
Abarat :: Barker Clive
Страница: 3 из 234"
"So you think we are targets?"
"I don't know and I don't care," Diamanda said. "We just have to trust to the holiness of our mission."
Mespa licked her pale lips before she chanced her next words.
"Are we sure it's holy?" she said. "Perhaps what we're doing is sacrilegious. Perhaps she should be left to—"
" Rest in peace ?" said Joephi.
"Yes," Mespa replied.
"She was barely more than a girl, Mespa," Joephi said. "She had a life of perfect love ahead of her, and it was stolen."
"Joephi's right," said Diamanda. "Do you think a soul like hers would sleep quietly, with so much life left to live? So many dreams that she never saw come true?"
Mespa nodded. "You're right, of course," she conceded. "We must do this work, whatever the cost."
The thunderhead that had followed them from the islands was now directly overhead. It threw down a vile, icy rain, thick as phlegm, which struck the boards of The Lyre like drumming. The lightning came down around the trembling vessel on every side, its lurid light throwing the curling waves into silhouette as they rose to break over the boat.
"The sail's no use to us now," said Joephi, looking up at the tattered canvas.
"Then we must find other means," said Diamanda. "Mespa. Take hold of our cargo for a few moments. And be careful."
With great reverence Mespa took the small box, its sides and lid decorated with the closely etched lines of talismans. Relieved of her burden, Diamanda walked down to the stern of The Lyre , the pitching of the boat threatening several times to throw her over the side before she reached the safety of the little seat. There she knelt and leaned forward, plunging her arthritic hands into the icy waters.
"You'd best be careful," Mespa warned her. "There's a fifty-foot mantizac that's been following us for the last half hour. I saw it when I was throwing up."
"No self-respecting fish is going to want my old bones," Diamanda said.
She'd no sooner spoken than the mottled head of a mantizac— not quite the size Mespa had described, but still huge—broke the surface. Its vast maw gaped not more than a foot from Diamnda's outstretched arms.
" Goddess !" the old lady yelled, withdrawing her hands and sitting up sharply.
The frustrated fish pushed against the back of the boat, as if to nudge one of the human morsels on board into its own element.
"So…" said Diamanda. "I think this calls for some moon-magic."
"Wait," said Joephi. "You said if we used magic, we would risk drawing attention to ourselves."
"So I did," Diamanda replied.
"So you think we are targets?"
"I don't know and I don't care," Diamanda said. "We just have to trust to the holiness of our mission."
Mespa licked her pale lips before she chanced her next words.
"Are we sure it's holy?" she said. "Perhaps what we're doing is sacrilegious. Perhaps she should be left to—"
" Rest in peace ?" said Joephi.
"Yes," Mespa replied.
"She was barely more than a girl, Mespa," Joephi said. "She had a life of perfect love ahead of her, and it was stolen."
"Joephi's right," said Diamanda. "Do you think a soul like hers would sleep quietly, with so much life left to live? So many dreams that she never saw come true?"
Mespa nodded. "You're right, of course," she conceded. "We must do this work, whatever the cost."
The thunderhead that had followed them from the islands was now directly overhead. It threw down a vile, icy rain, thick as phlegm, which struck the boards of The Lyre like drumming. The lightning came down around the trembling vessel on every side, its lurid light throwing the curling waves into silhouette as they rose to break over the boat.
"The sail's no use to us now," said Joephi, looking up at the tattered canvas.
"Then we must find other means," said Diamanda. "Mespa. Take hold of our cargo for a few moments. And be careful."
With great reverence Mespa took the small box, its sides and lid decorated with the closely etched lines of talismans. Relieved of her burden, Diamanda walked down to the stern of The Lyre , the pitching of the boat threatening several times to throw her over the side before she reached the safety of the little seat. There she knelt and leaned forward, plunging her arthritic hands into the icy waters.
"You'd best be careful," Mespa warned her. "There's a fifty-foot mantizac that's been following us for the last half hour. I saw it when I was throwing up."
"No self-respecting fish is going to want my old bones," Diamanda said.
She'd no sooner spoken than the mottled head of a mantizac— not quite the size Mespa had described, but still huge—broke the surface. Its vast maw gaped not more than a foot from Diamnda's outstretched arms.
" Goddess !" the old lady yelled, withdrawing her hands and sitting up sharply.
The frustrated fish pushed against the back of the boat, as if to nudge one of the human morsels on board into its own element.
"So…" said Diamanda. "I think this calls for some moon-magic."
"Wait," said Joephi. "You said if we used magic, we would risk drawing attention to ourselves."
"So I did," Diamanda replied.