"Ann Maxwell - Change" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

Nado, of course, was registered. He was a citizen in good standing, an Ear, a combination bloodhound
and judas goat and a useful tool of the government—or anyone else who could afford him.

Selena wondered briefly if Nado had been caught, then dismissed it as irrelevant. He probably was short
or owed a favor, and she was payment.

The government man stepped down, to be replaced by the other person who had assisted at the arrest.

As the Good Earther took the stand, Selena didn't bother to conceal her contempt. The sect was not
nearly so powerful as it had been ten years ago. Green cowls and jumpsuits, pyrite cubes and saltwater
were losing their hold over the average mind. Even little children get bored with too many fairy tales, no
matter how terrifying.

Again she heard the insipid Good Earth incantation:


Of this Good Earth

Restrain the Devil

And his curse.

The Blessed Cube

Shields pure minds

To keep the Faithful

From Demonkind.

At least this time she hadn't gotten a face full of saltwater. In fact, she thought she had heard a few
snickers from the spectators.

Apparently the exorcist had heard laughter, too. He glared at the crowd, kissed his pyrite talisman
perfunctorily, and declared himself ready to answer questions.

Selena listened to the exorcist's catalogue of paran bestialities for a few minutes, then withdrew into
herself. It was the same old shrill which had hunted and killed her parents and made her life a high-wire
act strung between the poles of secrecy for survival and hunger for human contact. Haunting memories of
warm arms and laughter, of kisses that healed cuts and long talks that stretched her mind: the past had
made the present intolerable. It would have been better if her parents had hated her. Then she would
accept hatred as normal, rather than be tormented by loneliness.

Selena moved her shoulders impatiently. The past was dead; as soon as this farce ended she would be
dead, too. Everything else was shrill. She'd had plenty of practice at being alone. If the novelty of being
close to another person had flipped her off the high wire, then she'd pay the charge—and not ask
whether the flame was worth the candle.

But was it?

123456789101112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445464748495051525354555657585960616263646566676869707172737475767778798081828384858687888990919293949596979899100101102103104105106107108109110111112113114115116117118119120121122123124125126127128129130131132133134135136137138139140141142143144145146147148149150151152153154155156157158159160161162163164165166167