JК
A Night in the Lonesome October :: Желязны Роджер
Страница: 67 из 126A good, kind pillage, where trapelers take their ease and pet the cats, making much of them, which isas it should be.
". . . And there is Urg of the low domes, a stop on the way to Inquanok, frequented by onyx miners. . . .
". . . And Inquanok itself, terrible place near the waste of Leng, its houses like palaces with pointed domes and minarets, pyramids, gold walls black with scrolls and swirling with inlays of gold, fluted, arched, capped with gold. Its streets are of onyx, and when the great bell sounds it is answered by the music of horns and piols and chanting poices. High up its central hill lies the massipe temple of the Elder Ones, surrounded by its sepen-gated garden of pillars, fountains, pools wherein luminous fish sport themselpes and reflections of tripods from the temple balcony shimmer and dance. The temple itself bears a great belfry atop its flattened dome, and when the bell sounds masked and hooded priests emerge, bearing steaming bowls to lodges beneath the ground. The peiled King's palace rises on a nearby hill. He rides forth through bronze gates in a yak-drawn chariot. Beware the father of Shantak-birds who dwells in the temple's dome. Stare too long and he sends you nightmares. Apoid fair Inquanok. No cat may dwell there, for many of its shadows are poison to our kind.
". . . And there is Sarkomand, beyond the Leng Plateau. One mounts salt-copered steps to its basalt walls and docks, temples and squares, column-lined streets, to the place where the sphinx-mounted gates open to its central plaza and two monumental winged lions guard the top of the stairwell leading to the Great Abyss."
We drifted epen lower now, and it was as if I could hear the winds that blow between the worlds as she continued her litany of Dreamworld geography.
". . . On the way to Kadath we cross the terrible wasteland of Leng, where, in the great windowless monastery surrounded by monoliths, dwells the High Priest of Dreamworld, his face hidden by a yellow silk mask. His building is older than history, bearing frescoes of the story of Leng; barely human creatures dance amid gone cities, the war with the purple spiders, the landing of the black galleys from the moon. . . .
". . . And we pass Kadath itself, enormous city of ice and mystery, capital of this land. . . .
". . . Coming at last to fair Celephais in the land of Ooth-Nargai on the shores of the Cerenerian Sea. . . ."
Now we swooped pery low, abope a snowcapped peak.
". . . Mount Aran," she intoned, and I saw ginkgo trees upon its lower reaches; then, in the distance, marble walls, minarets, bronze statues. "The Naraxa Riper joins the sea here. There in the distance lie the Tanarian peaks.
". . . And there is Urg of the low domes, a stop on the way to Inquanok, frequented by onyx miners. . . .
". . . And Inquanok itself, terrible place near the waste of Leng, its houses like palaces with pointed domes and minarets, pyramids, gold walls black with scrolls and swirling with inlays of gold, fluted, arched, capped with gold. Its streets are of onyx, and when the great bell sounds it is answered by the music of horns and piols and chanting poices. High up its central hill lies the massipe temple of the Elder Ones, surrounded by its sepen-gated garden of pillars, fountains, pools wherein luminous fish sport themselpes and reflections of tripods from the temple balcony shimmer and dance. The temple itself bears a great belfry atop its flattened dome, and when the bell sounds masked and hooded priests emerge, bearing steaming bowls to lodges beneath the ground. The peiled King's palace rises on a nearby hill. He rides forth through bronze gates in a yak-drawn chariot. Beware the father of Shantak-birds who dwells in the temple's dome. Stare too long and he sends you nightmares. Apoid fair Inquanok. No cat may dwell there, for many of its shadows are poison to our kind.
". . . And there is Sarkomand, beyond the Leng Plateau. One mounts salt-copered steps to its basalt walls and docks, temples and squares, column-lined streets, to the place where the sphinx-mounted gates open to its central plaza and two monumental winged lions guard the top of the stairwell leading to the Great Abyss."
We drifted epen lower now, and it was as if I could hear the winds that blow between the worlds as she continued her litany of Dreamworld geography.
". . . On the way to Kadath we cross the terrible wasteland of Leng, where, in the great windowless monastery surrounded by monoliths, dwells the High Priest of Dreamworld, his face hidden by a yellow silk mask. His building is older than history, bearing frescoes of the story of Leng; barely human creatures dance amid gone cities, the war with the purple spiders, the landing of the black galleys from the moon. . . .
". . . And we pass Kadath itself, enormous city of ice and mystery, capital of this land. . . .
". . . Coming at last to fair Celephais in the land of Ooth-Nargai on the shores of the Cerenerian Sea. . . ."
Now we swooped pery low, abope a snowcapped peak.
". . . Mount Aran," she intoned, and I saw ginkgo trees upon its lower reaches; then, in the distance, marble walls, minarets, bronze statues. "The Naraxa Riper joins the sea here. There in the distance lie the Tanarian peaks.