"George R. R. Martin - In the House of the Worm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

nothing but dust. There were holes in the boxes, too, and several of them had been smashed. Annelyn
could make no sense of it.

Riess was on his feet again, looking shaken. “I dropped the torch,― he said.

"There are others to be had,― Groff said. “We could not have used ours, in any event. The
Meatbringer would see its light. No, we must enter the groun-runs in the dark, and wait there until we see
the light of his torch. Then we will follow that."

"What?― said Annelyn. “But Groff, that is madness. There will be grouns in the dark, perhaps."

"Perhaps,― Groff replied. “Not likely, not this close to light, to the grounwall. Groun hunters, in my
time and even before, had to go deeper to find prey. The upper runs are empty. But we will not go
far.― He pointed toward the wide black door that waited for them where the platform met the wall.

Annelyn drew his stiletto and went swiftly forward, not to look a coward. If a groun lurked in the
blackness, he would be ready for it.

But there was nothing. Faintly, in the small light that still bled from the chamber, he saw the outline of
three burrows, each darker than the one before.
"The left leads down,― Groff said, “into the richer parts of the runs. The center is bricked-off and
abandoned. We will wait there. We can watch the bridge, hidden by darkness, and follow the
Meatbringer's torch when he passes."

He herded them forward, and they sat on the dusty stone to wait. The door to the Chamber of the Last
Light faced them, like a dim red window; all else was black and silent. Groff sat unmoving, his ax across
his lap and his legs crossed under him. Riess fidgeted. Annelyn put his back to the wall, so no grouns
could creep up behind him, and toyed with his stiletto.

It was not long before he began to hear noises, soft mutters and low sounds, like the ugly voices of
grouns grouping to attack them. But the tunnel was a solid blindness, and the harder he listened, the more
the noise became blurred and indistinct. Footfalls? Or only Groff's breathing? Or perhaps it was the
sound of the stirring liquid, not far off? Annelyn gripped his blade tighter. “Groff,― he warned, but
the other only silenced him.

He was remembering stories—of how the grouns could see in total darkness, of how they padded up so
quietly on soft white feet and wrapped their six long limbs around straying yaga-la-hai—when the other
noise began. Soft first, then louder; this could be no mistake. It was thin and ragged; it rose and fell, full
of chokes and sobs. Groff heard it, too. Suddenly, silently, he was on his feet. Annelyn leaped up beside
him, then Riess.

The bridge swayed slowly in the red window before them. Someone was coming.

The noise grew, and became more human. A voice, a real voice, warped by fear. Then Annelyn heard
words: ― ... please ... not into the dark again ... grouns ... they'll ... can't do.... “ And then,
very clearly, “My grandfather was a son of the Manworm."

They saw. Vermyllar was coming across the bridge. Behind him, holding a long knife half-seen in the
light, was the Meatbringer, squat and ugly in his suit of grounskin. “Quiet!― the Meatbringer said,
and Vermyllar stumbled onto the safety of the stone, looking up fearfully at the black door that gaped