"Gardner,.James.-.Fire.And.Dust" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner James Alan)

On the other hand… I hadn't been commissioned to paint a deva and a cornugon. If I suddenly decided to paint something that interested me, who knew where it would all end? Muttering something about gold handcuffs, I went back to work.

"Painting a picture, huh?" said a nasal voice by my elbow. "Do you really have to draw all those curlicues? Couldn't you kind of suggest them?"

I turned to see a gangly boy in his late teens squatting and squinting at my canvas. His skin was caramel brown, but his hair yellow blonde, hanging haphazardly around distinctly pointed ears. One of his parents must have been human, the other an elf; and neither side of the family could take much pride in the result. "Do I know you?" I asked, trying to sound forbidding.

"Hezekiah Virtue," he replied, holding out a hand that was overly blessed with knuckles. Looking down at my paintbox, he read my name printed there. "Britlin Cavendish… well it's an honor to meet you."

"You've heard of me?"

"Nope. But it's an honor to meet anyone in Sigil; I've only been here two days. Do you belong to a faction?"

I sighed. My jacket clearly displayed the "five senses" symbol of the Society of Sensation, and the symbol was repeated on my signet ring and the top of my paintbox. However, that obviously didn't mean anything to this Clueless child. "I have the privilege of being a Sensate," I told him. "Our society is dedicated to savoring all the abundance the multiverse can offer."

"Oh, my Uncle Toby told me about you guys," he answered, his eyes growing wide. "You must have a lot of wild parties, right?"

"Wrong. One wild party in a lifetime usually exhausts that field of experience. Then we move on to more refined pursuits."

"Oh." Clearly, the boy had no idea what a refined pursuit might be. Then his face brightened, and he reached into a cloth bag he carried in one hand. "Have you ever tried swineberries?"

The name made me wrinkle my nose. "Swineberries?"

He pulled out a handful of greasy brown berries, each about the size of my thumb. They were flat and wrinkled, as if someone had stepped on them with spike-heeled boots. "I brought them with me from home," the boy said. "My home plane. I'm not from around here. The berries aren't as fresh as they used to be, but they're still pretty good." He popped one in his mouth and chewed vigorously. "You should try one."

"Yes," I admitted, "I should." A Sensate never says no to a new experience, even if it turns out to be some boring new prune from the Prime Material Plane. I told myself if the taste proved to be as lackluster as I expected …“ swineberries! …“ at least I'd have something to joke about the next time I had dinner with my fellow Sensates.

Of course, I couldn't just pop the berry in my mouth and chew, like the boy did. You don't rush such things. You have to hold the berry lightly in your fingertips, testing the weight and texture in the fruit. Then you lift it to your nose and smell its bouquet …“ a light, sugary fragrance, with a teasing hint of musk. Then, and only then, do you slip it between your teeth and bite down gently… whereupon, you discover the sodding berry tastes like pure rock salt.

I'd eaten pure rock salt before …“ it was part of the Sensate initiation ceremony. As any Sensate can tell you, once is enough.

Reluctantly, I swallowed.

"What did you think of the berry?" Hezekiah asked.

"I hated it."

"Oh. But I guess that's all right, isn't it? Because Uncle Toby says Sensates want to experience everything, good and bad."

"Your Uncle Toby is a font of information," I replied through clenched teeth.

"Hey," the boy said, "do you think these berries would go over big with the Sensates? Because I'd like to talk to one of your high-up men, to see what I have to do to join your group."

I nearly choked. "You want to join the Sensates?"

"Uncle Toby says I should join some faction. A man has to have friends in the Cage, that's what Uncle Toby says. He calls Sigil the Cage, I don't know why. So I'm going around, talking to all the factions, to find out more about them. That's why I'm here in the courts, to talk to a Guvner. I love how Sigil people say Guvner, instead of Governor the way they'd say it back home. I love how people talk here: Stop rattling your bone-box, you Clueless berk, or I'll do you a slice-job. I hear that all the time. By the way, what's a slice-job?"

"You're going to find out any minute," I muttered.

"On the other hand," Hezekiah continued unstoppably, "I haven't heard you use any quaint local expressions yet. Are you from out of town too?"