"Grant, Charles L - Glow of Candles, a Unicorn's Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

The night wind chilled suddenly. An arthritic attendant with a small pouch at -his side shambled around the area looking for debris to justify his pension. But the apron yeas clean and he vanished without once looking up at me, disappearing around the theater dome curve. A clock figure, I thought, with no hours to chime.
I scowled then, and shook myself like a drenched dog. I was falling too quickly into a self-pitying morbid mood that would do me no good if I wanted to devise some way to reverse the trend I had so belatedly discovered. I decided to get Helena and take us home, and had already started for the entrance when I stopped, a peculiar whining bothering my ears. I rubbed lightly at my temples, and the whining grew louder. Familiar. Another step, and I glanced up and saw the spiderleg spotlights walking a WatchDog toward the place where I was standing.
Frozen for a moment, I stood like an idiot until I realized they'd be landing not far from where I stood. I bolted into the theater and pressed myself against the door frame, watching as the sleek black-and-gold police machine settled onto the heart of the mosaic like a bloated dragonfly. A Blue leaped out, steadied himself, and reached up a hand to assist the others following. There were only eight that I could see, standing around in a curious display of alert watchfulness and indecisiveness. Then my nails dug unfelt into my legs. Philip lumbered from the exit, disdainfully brushing away an offer of assistance. I must have lost my temper, and a good part of my reason, because I found myself standing just outside then, and when a pinlight suddenly flared and caught me, Philip pointed.

A bell, small and unobtrusive, sounded behind me. Intermission had begun.
The Blues had already taken their stuntons from their waists, and I could see by the glowing tips that they were going to kill me if they had to.
Ah, you fat-bellied Judas, I thought, and spun back inside, fighting my way through the people seeking exit, grabbing at Helena's wrist when I saw her. I dragged her several meters before she tried to pull back, but all I had to do was yell "Blues" into her ear and she was with me, running down the aisle toward the curtains. Without bothering to stop and think, I vaulted onto the stage, hauled her after me, and raced into the wings and along the narrow corridor I knew would run the length of the theater's rear wall. There was a great deal of commotion back in the auditorium, and though I wanted just a moment to think things out, to ask Helena for advice, I slammed up against the fire exit and went through without stopping. A handful of Blues darted around the corner, yelling when they spotted us, but before they could set their stuntons for a firing charge, we were through the trees and into the underbrush so thoughtfully managed to make our flight easier.
Suddenly I stopped and Helena yelped. Fxcept for the faint glow -of the theater's lights, the darkness here was complete and, falsely or not, I felt a momentary safety.
"What?" she whispered as we heard the Dog's whining pitch as it lifted from the clearing.
The darkness was complete, I thought, and if we continued headlong as we were, we would be bound for injury that would make a. mockery of our trying. I slapped impatiently . at my thigh, then took her hand and made my way back,
angling in a crouch toward the front of the dome.
The WatchDog whine screamed.
Handheld spotlights shattered through leaves and branches.
With only eight Blues immediately available, I knew my chances of at least getting to the park gates were fairly good. But it had to be done quickly, before reinforcements were summoned. I whispered all this to Helena as we moved, the words snapping singly, like those of a sprinter out of breath. Twice we had to duck out of the way of the thinly spread cordon, but soon enough we were at the clearing. The playgoers had already been herded back inside, and only
Philip remained, talking quietly with an officer who was holding a comunit circuit in his hand. Instinctively, I took a step toward them, but Helena jerked me back.
"Later," she hissed in my ear. "And save a piece for me."
It was pleasantly obvious from the dour expression on the officer's face that we weren't going to be easily caught-if at all. Emboldened, then, I made my way through the trees to the pathway I had taken only a brief hour earlier. A minute's waiting that seemed twice a lifetime, and we broke from the cover and into a steady trot. We ran on our toes to keep the echoes from betraying us, and left the path only when we came to a bend too acute to enable us clear sight ahead, or to skirt the now unfortunately well-lighted gardens.
I thought of Philip, wondering how, until I remembered the mailer with dates and names scribbled on it.
I thought of him again, and wondered why, until I remembered his pride and the beating I had given it. Well, at least he would have the reward, I thought with a grin, though how much good it would do him was moot, since I had every intention of getting away.
I grinned even wider. Intentions. I had intended so many, perhaps too many things in these first thirty-seven years. And this was the first time I had actually been driven to action, to do something, to move. I almost felt good, I almost felt joyous.
And the feeling lasted until, only twenty or so meters from the gate, we had to veer sharply into the brush. A Blue had suddenly come from streetside and planted himself directly in front of the only way we had now of leaving the park. Dropping to the ground, I ground knuckles into my cheekbone, trying to force through the pain something I could use to eliminate that man before he was doubled, tripled, made unassailable.
We crept closer. The shouts behind us had separated, nearly vanished. Once, the WatchDog sailed above us, above us and beyond, back into the park. Then Helena jabbed me on the arm with a finger and pointed at the Blue. At herself. She made a steadying motion with her palm and rose to her feet before I could stop her. I tried a lunge, but it was too late. She was already in the middle of the path and walking toward the gates, her legs affecting a slightly drunken gait, one hand brushing through her hair, the other angled out from her side as if providing balance.

As, she moved, then, so did I. Staying within .the boundary
of the hedging along the path, I made it to within five meters
of the Blue before I had to stop-,and watch-my hands
pressed to the ground, ignoring the sharp digging of pebbles
cutting into my skin. s
Listening to the Dog still circling above.
Helena began an off-key whistling, and the Blue almos dropped into an offensive crouch, then saw her an straightened. She giggled, hiccuped-I thought she was over doing it more than a little.-and reached with one finger t unseam her tunic. The Blue raised a warning hand, cautioning her to remain where she was. She giggled again, lurche
forward, and swayed. The Blue young man who should` have known better, but didn't because he was young--tools that first important step toward her. She swayed again, the ', allowed her knees to buckle. The Blue moved instinctively,, catching her around the waist, allowing her weight to carry him around and down, his knees not quite touching the. ground.
Immediately he. moved, however, so did I again, this time: racing from the brush to get behind him, and before he had completed his dipping motion, I had his stunton in handy Fumbling with the studs on the handgrip of the cylinder, I tried to set the electric charge as low as I could. Then I lay' the tip alongside the Blue's head. He jerked as Helena: wriggled out of his grasp. He jerked, his arms snapping back,: his hands almost touching at the base of his spine. Jerked,°. his tongue protruding and his breath inhaling in one explo-
sive wheeze.
A silent dance while I was too dumbfounded to run.
Ending.
"Come on," I said more harshly than I had intended, and with Helena's assistance I dragged him into the bushes.
"Into the breach, isn't that what they say?" she asked me,' as we clasped hands once more and raced for the nearest. Walkway.
"Who says?"
"Who cares?"
"You're not making sense."
It was apparent that neither of our lofts would be safe for, us any longer. I had no doubt that Philip had also told the: police about Helena's involvement with me. They'd be looking-: for her, too, once they'd discovered she wasn't coming'
home. But the Walkway had its terminus at the edge of the cityplex, and from there it was only normal highways for landcars and hovercats. They were only sparsely used, of course, for the villages and towns not linked into a plex, but walking them was unthinkable, especially at night.
So it was less a coincidence than has been reported that we ended up at Vivian's place less than an hour later.
"I'm leaving," I told her after we'd barged in and cornered her on a chair near her bedroom. "Sorry about the dreamtapes and all, but we're in rather a hurry."
She was too surprised to do more than blink, then quickly gathered her dignity about her like the gold-and-green robe she wore to cover her weight. "I heard on that"-she nodded toward the comunit "that you were wanted. God, Gordy, what made you do a thing like that?"
"I don't know. I wanted to be a star."
"There aren't any anymore, but you're too thick to know it."
"I know one thing, Viv," I said, "and that's why."
"So? Tell me."