"Michael Scott Rohan - Chase the Morning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rohan Michael Scott)

the bonded warehouse ahead the moment I rounded the corner, a louring mountain
of a place that had once been imposing; now eyepatches of rusty corrugated
iron filled its lower windows, and barbed wire crawled about the broken
crenellations of its outer walls. First left was obvious enough, too, but it
didn't look - or smell - very prepossessing; even as alleys went this was the
dregs. I hesitated, could he have forgotten this, and meant some broader way
further on? But when I stepped back to look I saw there wasn't one; the road
curved around to the right. Holding my breath, I was just about to take the
plunge when I heard a slight scrape, and a flicker of motion caught my eye,
back at the corner I'd just turned. But when I looked around there was
nothing, and I thought no more about it. The alley was as foul as I'd
expected, the water that plashed around my hapless shoes awash with pale
shapeless things half floating, its muddy shallows releasing a terrible stench
as I disturbed them. Fortunately it wasn't long. When the puddle ended I
stopped for a moment to tip the foulness out of my shoes and scrape them
clean. But as I leant one-handed against the grimy bricks I heard that sound
again, echoing slightly down the alley. Forgetting my squishy feet, I turned
and looked suddenly back almost frozen to the spot. There came just a whisper
of movement, no more than a flicker; but it seemed as if for one moment some
huge bulky shadow had filled the alley's other end, blocking off the light.
Though it was gone almost at once, there was no way I could deny it, search
though I might for such a shadow among the broken cobbles. I swallowed.
Somebody didn't want me to see them. Why? Because they were following me, that
was why; it had to be. But who? Jyp, maybe, seeing his guest safe - no,
hardly. But I could find out easily enough. All I had to do walk right back
around that corner and confront - him? Them? Or ... what?
Except, fortunately, that I wasn't quite that stupid. I thought of
Wolves; but there was no scaffolding here, hardly even an unbroken brickbat,
let alone Jyp with his sword. I turned and hurried as quietly as I could out
of the other end of the alley. In the street beyond, turning right, I stopped
a moment, listening for the splash of that inescapable puddle. There was
nothing - which meant they either weren't coming, or they were coming with
greater stealth. I swallowed and strode on. Just as I reached the next corner,
another right turn, I dared to glance back again. Nothing - except -
A sudden tremendous splashing erupted from the alley, as if something was
charging headlong through that puddle, charging with heedless ferocity.
Perhaps I yelled; certainly I fled. Down the street I pounded, noticing only
that it was mercifully wide and short on shadows, and had smooth cinder
pavements that scuffed muddily under my feet. My breath seemed to go shallow
very suddenly, and bands of agony sprang up around my head; my injuries were
beginning to tell. Where now? Where next? I couldn't even remember. I stopped,
bewildered, panting, and looked up at the skies. And what I saw there drove
out all other thoughts, even of what might any moment round that corner behind
me.
The moon was afloat, it seemed, sailing above a sea of cloud. By its light the
clouds were transformed, spread out beneath it into a landscape of shimmering
night-bound beauty, low hills and the sea beyond, the sea and islands. But
that alone could not have held me, in the state I was. What bound me to the
spot was the almost tangible shock of recognition. Beyond all possibility, yet
equally beyond all doubt, it was the same landscape the sunset had shown me,