"Coldheart Canyon (preview edition)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barker Clive - Coldheart Canyon)

how bad it must be!" He laughed at his self-deprecation, and used the laughter as a
cue to fill his glass up again. "Drink," he said to Zeffer, tapping his glass
against Zeffer's glass as though this was the first he'd had.
Zeffer drank. The brandy was stronger than the stuff he'd had at the hotel
in Brascov. It went down smoothly, warming his belly when it arrived.
"Good, yes?" the Father said, having downed his second glass.
"Very."
"You should have another before we go on." And he filled Zeffer's glass
without waiting for a reply. "We're a long way below ground here, and it gets
hellishly cold..." Glasses were filled, and emptied. The Father's mood was
noticeably better now, and his tone chattier. He put the glasses and the bottle back
in the hole in the wall, and then led the way down the narrow corridor, talking as
he went. "When the Order first came to the Fortress, there were plans to found a
hospital here. You see, there are no hospitals within a hundred and twenty miles of
here. It would be very practical. But this is not a place for the sick. And
certainly not the dying."
"So, no hospital?"
"Well, we made preparations. You saw yesterday one of the wardsу" Zeffer
remembered. He'd glanced through an open door and there'd been two rows of iron
beds, with bare mattresses. "I thought it was a dormitory for the brothers." "No. We
each have our own cells. There are only eleven of us, so we can each have a place in
which to meditate and pray..." He offered Zeffer a glance, accompanied by a small
smile. "And drink."
Page 9
Barker, Clive - Coldheart Canyon
"I can't imagine it's a very satisfying life," Zeffer said.
"Satisfying?" The idea was obviously a little confounding to Sandru.
"Meaning what?"
"Oh, just that you don't get to work in the community. You can't help
people."
They had come to the end of the passageway, and Sandru sorted through his
collection of keys in order to open the third and final door.
"Who can truly be helped?" he said, his face turned down to the labor of
sorting. "I suppose perhaps children can be comforted, sometimes, if it's dark and
they're afraid. You can tell them you're with them; and that will sometimes stop
them crying. But for the rest of us? Are there really any words that help? I don't
know of any." He had found the right key, and now slipped it noisily into the
antiquated lock. As he did so, he glanced up at Zeffer. "I think there's more
comfort to be had from seeing beautiful women on the cinema screen than in any
prayer I know. Well, perhaps not comfort. Distraction." He turned the key in the
lock. "And if that sounds like heresy, well so be it."
Sandru pushed the door open. The room was in darkness, but despite that fact
there was a warmth in the air; at least in contrast to the chilly air of the
passageway. Perhaps the difference was no more than two or three degrees, but it
felt significant.
"Will you wait here a moment?" Sandru said. "I'll just bring a light."
Zeffer stayed where he was, staring into the darkness, enjoying the slight rise in
temperature. There was enough illumination spilling from the passageway behind him
to light the threshold. There, carved into stone beneath his feet, was a curious
inscription: