"George R. R. Martin - Dying of the Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

He was high above the city and standing upright when she caught him. "Stay away," he warned with a grin, feeling
stupid and clumsy and playful. "Knock me over again and I'll get the flying tank and laser you out of the sky,
woman!" He tilted to one side, caught himself, then overcompensated and swung to the other side yelping.
"You're drunk," Gwen shouted at him through the keening wind. "Too much beer for breakfast." She was above
him now, arms folded against her chest, watching his struggles with mock disapproval.
"These things seem much more stable when you hang from them upside down," Dirk said. He had finally achieved
a semblance of balance, although the way he held his arms out to either side made it clear that he was dubious about
maintaining it.
Gwen settled down to his level and moved in beside him, sure-footed and confident, her dark hair streaming
behind her like a wild black banner. "How you doing?" she yelled as they flew side by side.
"I think I've got it!" Dirk announced. He was still upright.
"Good. Look down!"
He looked down, past the meager security of the platform under his feet. Larteyn with its dark towers and faded
glowstone streets was no longer beneath him. Instead there was a long long drop through an empty twilight sky to the
Common far below. He glimpsed a river down there, a thread of wandering dark water in the dim-lit greenery. Then
his head swam dizzily, his hands tightened, and he flipped over again.
This time Gwen dipped underneath him as he hung upside down. She crossed her arms again and smirked up at
him. "You sure are a dumbshit, t'Larien," she told him. "Why don't you fly right side up?"
He growled at her, or tried to growl, but the wind took away his breath and he could only make faces. Then he
turned himself over. His legs were getting sore from all of this. "There!" he shouted, and looked down defiantly to
prove that the height would not spook him a second time.
Gwen was beside him again. She looked him over and nodded. "You are a disgrace to the children of Avalon, and
sky-scooters everywhere," she said. "But you'll probably survive. Now, do you want to see the wild?"
"Lead me, Jenny!"
"Then turn. We're going the wrong way. We have to clear the mountains." She held out her free hand and took his
and together they swung around in a wide spiral, up and back, to face Larteyn and the mountain-wall. The city
looked gray and washed-out from a distance, its proud glowstones a sun-doused black. The mountains were a
looming darkness.
They rode toward them together, gaining altitude steadily until they were far over the Firefort, high enough to clear
the peaks. That was about top altitude for the sky-scoots; an aircar, of course, could ascend much higher. But it was
high enough for Dirk. The chameleon cloth coveralls they wore had gone all gray and white, and he was thankful for
their warmth; the wind was chill and the dubious day of Worlorn not much hotter than its night.
Holding hands and shouting infrequent comments, leaning this way and that into the wind, Gwen and Dirk rode up
over one mountain and down its far slope into a shadowed rocky valley, then up and down another and still another,
past dagger-sharp outcroppings of green and black rock, past high narrow waterfalls and higher precipices. At one
point Gwen challenged him to race, and he shouted his acceptance, and then they streaked forward as fast as the
scoots and their skill could take them until finally Gwen took pity on him and came back to take his hand again.
The range dropped off as suddenly to the west as it had risen in the east, throwing up a tall barrier to shield the
wild from the light of the still-climbing Wheel. "Down," Gwen said, and he nodded, and they began a slow descent
toward the jumbled dark greenery below. By then they had been up for more than an hour; Dirk was half numb from
the bite of the Worlorn wind, and most of his body was protesting this maltreatment.
They landed well inside the forest, beside a lake they had seen as they came down. Gwen swooped down
gracefully in a gentle curve that left her standing on a mossy beach beside the water's edge. Dirk, afraid of smashing
into the ground and breaking a leg, flicked off his grid a moment too soon and fell the last meter.
Gwen helped him detach his boots from the sky-scoot, and together they brushed damp sand and moss from his
clothes and from his hair. Then she sat down beside him and smiled. He smiled back and kissed her.
Or tried to. As he reached and put his arm around her, she pulled away, and he remembered. His hands fell, and the
shadows swept across his face. "I'm sorry," he said, mumbling. He looked away from her, toward the lake. The water
was an oily green, and islands of violet fungus dotted the still surface. The only motion was the half-seen stirrings of
insects skimming the shallows nearby. The forest was even darker than the city, for the mountains still hid most of