"Terry Dowling - Roadsong" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dowling Terry)

Perhaps it was the incipient rivalry; perhaps it was the silent canister of the Lady Say standing in its
brackets at the rail, her attention on the desert or on them all, who could tell? The Restante Lady had not
chosen to speak, was apart from the distinguished company while an obvious focus to it, since Tom's
courtesy required them to gather there. The lights twinkling on the Israel Board seemed totally unhuman,
merrily oblivious, yet represented viewpoint, sanction, the possibility of judgement.
Tom tried his best to relax, wishing he had waited, had foreseen the present incredible development, all
of them lined up before this ancient personality, with an audience of some dozen attendants and
crew-members milling about on the commons, unable to keep their eyes averted. He would have laughed
at the marvellous comedy of it but dared not; he gazed now at the helm readings, now at the unfolding
Road and the horizon, determined not to shake his head when it was what he wished most of all to do.
The nervous young scholar saved it for them all. With guileless eagerness to impress, or perhaps an
artless yet astute understanding that this awkwardness might spoil this momentous voyage, he cleared his
throat.
"There is an orrery at Orroroo where I was born," he told them, then realized he might need to explain
himself. "Not one of those tribal life experiments out at Trale, I mean in the ancient sense: an engine for
showing the motion of the planets."
"Yes, Tamas," Ty said, naming him, generously indulging this nervous, possibly besotted young man. She
had dealt with fawning young men before, was no doubt an expert in spotting ajaltas. Tom felt easier
hearing her answer him. It boded well.
"Only once in ninety-two years has it stopped working - and that was twenty-five years ago, on the night
I was born, at the exact hour, between 2120 and 2200."
"Really?" Ti said, tactfully playing a part too, giving guarded sanction at last, though with a sardonic
edge.
Tom gazed out at the land, hoping it would go easily now.
There was a purpose to the scholar's remark.
"Before we began on our voyage," Tamas continued, "I went to that fortune-teller on the quayside. You
may have seen him."

"Yes," the older man, said in a way that suggested he might have had a reading done as well.
"Well, this fellow told me that my birth involved a stopping of the planets, just like in the Bible where the
sun stopped for the army of Joshua. It was amazing. How could he know? He said this would be a
momentous journey we are taking . . ."
"Enough!" Ti said, turning her brilliant eyes towards the desert.
"But, Lady!" Tamas persisted. "He - he said three great Ladies would be involved, not two - and this
was all before I knew the Lady Say was to be with us."
Ajalta, Tom decided, but made sure he did not frown. Hamm was here for the adventure of it, to be with
Ab'O Ladies who had not demanded closed ship.
"And he said we should all beware The Laughing Man, but wouldn't say why. Is that a Tarot card?"
"No, not Tarot," Archimbault said. "Perhaps north-western Amerind myth . . ."
But he was interrupted by Tom speaking into com. "Shannon, general 360o scan. Five minutes."
Lady Ty reacted at once. "Captain, is there a problem?"
"Probably nothing, Lady. But Tamas just now named the ship of Captain Ha-Ha."
Lady Ti clearly knew the name. "The pirate?"
"The pirate," Tom said. "The ship's real name is Almagest, but in a recent interview he referred to it as
Laughing Man. Tamas, what did this fortune-teller look like?"
The scholar frowned, ran a hand through his short brown hair.
"He was made up for it, Captain . . ."
"Forehead?"
"A star. A five-pointed star. It looked real. A cicatrix . . ."
"It is. That was probably Starman Guy."