"Moore, C L - Scarlet Dream UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

When they stepped down upon it and began to cross the meadow toward the trees beyond which water gleamed, he saw that the blades were short and soft as fur, and they seemed to cling to his companion’s bare feet as s-he walked. As he looked out over the meadow he saw that long waves of it, from every direction, were rippling toward them as if the wind blew from all sides at once toward the common center that was themselves. Yet no wind blew.
- “It—it’s alive,” he stammered, startled. “The grass!”
“Yes, of course,” she said indifferently. -
And then he realized that though the feathery fronds of the trees waved now and then, gracefully together, there was no wind. And they did not sway in one direction only, but by twos and threes in many ways, dipping and rising with a secret, contained life of their own.
Whett they reached the belt of woodland he looked up curiously and heard -the whisper and rustle of I~aves above him, bending down as if in curiosity as the two passed beneath. They never bent far enough to touch them, but a sinister air of watchfulness, of aliveness, brooded over the whole uncannily alive landscape, and the ripples of the grass followed them wherever they went.
The lake, like that twilight in the Temple, was a sleepy blue clouded with violet and green, not like real water, for the colored blurs did not diffuse or change as it rippled.
On the shore, a little above the water line, stood a tiny, shrine-like building of some creamy stone, its walls no more than a series of arches open toihe blue, translucent day. The girl led him to the doorway and gestured within negligently.
“I live here,” she said.
Smith stared. It was quite empty save for two low couches with a blue coverlet thrown across each. Very classic it looked, with its whiteness and austerity, the arches opening on a vista of woodland and grass beyond.
“Doesn’t it ever get cold?” he asked. “Where do you eat?
Where are your books and food- and clothes?”
“I have some spare tunics under my couch,” she said. “That’s all. No books, no other clothing, no food. We feed at the Temple. It is never any colder or warmer. than this.”
“But what do you do?”
“Do? Oh, swim in the lake, sleep and rest and wander through the woods. Times passes very quickly.”
“Idyllic,” murmured Smith, “but rather tiresome, I
should think.” -
“When one knows,’1she said, “that the next moment may be one’s last, life is savored to the full. One stretches the hours out as long as possible. No, for us it is not tire— some.” -
“But have you no cities? Where are the other people?”
“It is best not to collect in crowds. Somehow they seem to draw—it. We live in twos and threes—sometimes alone. We have no cities. We do nothing—what purpose in beginning anything when we know we shall not’ live to end it? Why even think too long of one thing? Come down to the lake.”
She took his hand and led him across the clinging grass to the sandy brink of the water, and they sank in silence on the narrow beach. Smith looked out over the lake where vague colors misted the blue, trying not to think of the fantastic. things that were happening to him. Indeed, it was hard to do
‘much thinking, here, in the midst of the blueness and th~ silence, the very air dreamy about ‘them . . . the cloudy water lapping the shore with tiny, soft sounds like the breathing of a sleeper. The place was heavy with the stillness and the dreamy colors, and Smith was never sure, afterward, whetherin his dream he did not sleep for a while; for presently he heard a stir at his side and the girl reseated herself, clad in a fresh tunic, all the blood washed away. Hecould not remember her having left, but it did not trouble him.
The light had for some time been sinking and blurring, and imperceptibly a cloudy blue twilight closed about them, seeming somehow to rise from the blurring lake, for it partook of that same dreamy blueness clouded with vague colors. Smith thought that he would be content never to rise again from that cool sand, to sit here for ever in the blurring twilight and the silence of his dream. How long hedid sit there he never knew. The blue peace enfolded him ‘utterly, uniil be was steeped in its misty evening colors and- permeated through and through with the tranced quiet.
The darkness had deepened until he could no longer see any more than the nearest wavelets lapping the sand. Beyond, and all about, the dream-world melted into the violet-misted blueness of the twilight. He was not aware that he had turned his head, but presently he found himself looking down on the girl beside him. She was lying on the pale sand, her hair a fan of darkness to frame the pallor of her face.
In the twilight her mouth was dark too, and from the darkness under her lashes he slowly became aware that she was watching him unwinkingly. -
For a bOg while he sat there, gazing down, meeting the half-hooded eyes in silence. And presently, with the effortless detachment of one who moves in a dream, he bent down to meet her lifting arms. The sand was cool and sweet, and her mouth tasted faintly of blood.
- II

There wa~ no sunrise in that land. Lucid day brightened slowly over the breathing landscape, and grass and trees stirred with wakening awareness, rather horribly in the beauty of the morning. Whew Smith woke, he saw the girl coming up from the lake, shaking blue water from her orange hair. Blue droplets clung to the creaminess of her skin, and she was laughing and flushed from head to foot in the glowing dawn.
Smith sat up on his couch and pushed back the blue coverlet. -
“I’m hungry,” he said. “When and what do we eat?”
The laughter vanished from he.r face in a breath. She gave her hair a troubled shake and said doubtfully,
“Hungry?”
“Yes, starved! Didn’t you say you get your food at the Temple? Let’s go up there.”
She sent him a sidelong, enigmatic glance from under her lashes as she turned aside.
“Very well,” she said.
“Anything wrong?” He reached out as, she passed and pulled her to his knee, kissing the troubled mouth lightly. And again he tasted blood. -
“Oh, no.” Sheruffledhis hairandrose. “I’llbereadyina moment, and then we’ll go.”
And so again they passed the belt of woods where the trees bent down to watch, and crossed the rippling grassland. From all directions long waves of it came blowing toward them as before, and the fur-like blades clung to their feet. Smith tried not to notice. Everywhere, he was seeing this morning, an undercurrent of nameless unpleasantness ran beneath the surface of this lovely land.
As they crossed the live grass a memory suddenly returned to him, and he said, “What did you mean, yesterday, when you said that there was a way—out—other than death?”
She did not meet his eyes as she answered, in that troubled
voice, “Worsethandying,Isaid. A wayoutwedonotspeak of here.
“But if there’s any way at all, I must know of it,” he persisted. “Tell me.” -
She swept the orange hair like a veil between them, bending her head and saying indistinctly, “A way out you coult not take. A way too costly. And—and I do not wish you to go, now.. .
“I must know,” said Smith relentlessly. -
She paused then~ and stood looking up at him., her sherrycolored eyes disturbed.
“By the way you came,” she said at last. “By virtue of the Word. But that gate is impassable..”
“Why?”
“It is death to pronounce the Word. ‘Literafl). I do not know it now, cOuld not speak it if I would. But in the Temple there is one room where the Word is graven in scarlet on the wall, and its power is so great that the echoes of it ring for ever round and round that room. If one stands before the graven symbol and lets the force of it beat upon ‘his brain he will hear, and know—and shriek the awful syllables aloud—and so die. It is a word from some tongue so alien to all our being that the spoken sound of it, echoing in the throat of a living man, is disrupting enough to rip the very fibers of the human body apart—to blast its atoms asunder, to destroy body and mind as utterly. as if they bad never’ been. And because the sound is so disruptive it somehow blasts open for an instant the door between your world and mine. But the danger is dreadful, for it may open the door to other worlds too, and let things through more terrible than we can 4ream of. Some say it was thus that the Thing gained access to our land eons ago. And if you are not standing exactly where the door opens, on the one spot in the room that is protected, as the center of a whirlwind is quiet, and if you do not pass instantly out of the sound of the Word, it will blast. you asunder as it does the one who has pronounced it for you. So you see how impos—” Here she broke off withalittle scream,
and glanced down in half-laughing annoyance, then took two or three little running steps and turned.
“The grass,” she explained ruefully, pointing to her feet. The brOwn bareness of them was dotted with scores of tiny blood-spots. “If one stands too long in one place, barefoot, it will pierce the skin and driiik”-~stupid of me to forget. But come.”