"Howard Waldrop & Leigh Kennedy - One Horse Town" - читать интересную книгу автора (Waldrop Howard)

He set off for home, knowing that he had to run south with the setting sun on his right. Before he reached
the plain below, he heard voices again. This time there were many, many of them.
Women, wailing with grief.
I'm sick of the war.
It's not my war. I'm just helping out here, anyway. These people are always going at each other, though
they look like brothers, have the same religion, attend the same inter-city dinner parties. One side mines the
metals, the other side makes it into jewelry. One side catches fish, the other side fashions the dishes. And
so on.
But-poof-one little incident, a bit of royal adultery, and they're at war again. They're not happy with a little
battle or two. They've got to wipe each other out. And drag in all the neighbors.
Most soldiers want adventure, a chance to see the world, meet some girls, have a bit of gold to spend on
a good time if the chance comes up. I'm not so different from the other guys. My background is posh
compared to the farmers and the craftsmen who've taken up arms, but soldiers in this war with posh
backgrounds are as plentiful as olives on an olive tree, so it doesn't make much difference.
But we've only seen here. The girls are okay, but after so many years of war there aren't many new faces.
Except for the babies. The gold and the good times... well, it could be better.
Truth is, I was only a little lad when the war started, so I'm a relatively new recruit. And it wasn't just war
that brought me; I thought I might have a chance at being near a certain young lady who lives here. But she
looks right through me whenever our paths cross in town, sometimes with a pretty weird expression. I met
her a couple of years ago at a party at my dad's when she was a lot more fun. She seemed to like me. You
know how you can sense it. Lots of eyes and smiles and choosing to stand near me. I couldn't get her out of
my mind.
As nice as he is, her dad doesn't seem to notice me either, just looks vague every time I'm under his
nose. But her dad has a lot to think about, running this war year after year.
Tonight, Leo and I have watch. It's cold and windy up here on the wall. And something strange is
happening. When we first came on guard, we saw something like a kid stuck in the side of the wall below,
just standing there as if he were wearing it. Then he was gone.
I think we dreamt it. We're both tired. Lookout on the walls is always a guarantee to keep you alert,
though, especially on a cold-ass night like this. I can't yet put my finger on what's wrong.
Leo, who isn't as tall as me, pulls himself up for a peek over the parapet, then points towards the beach.
"Coro, look, the fires are different," he says.
The fires have burnt on the beach for years now to the sound of soldiers laughing, arguing, running races,
washing in the surf, drinking wine, and, worst of all for us hungry ones up here, the nightly barbecues. A
tormenting smell, as we don't get much in the way of steaks, being under siege. Every now and then a horse
dies and we have something to chew on. And chew and chew. A trickle of supplies comes in when we find an
excuse for a truce. Our greatest entertainment is to watch the enemy having a better time down there on the
beach and fantasize about desertion. A reward for that is an occasional projectile lobbed up. Last week, one
of our guys got a stone right in the eye for hanging over the edge too long.
It's too quiet. No drinking, whoring. No barbecues.
"Maybe," Leo says in a wishful voice, "they're burning their own camps."
"Leo," I say, "they can't be going. Just like that."
Yesterday had been a pretty normal day of hacking off arms and legs and jabbing spears through brains.
Nothing that would make you think anyone won or lost. Pretty much like most days of the last ten years,
from what I can tell.
"Mm," Leo says. He looks worried about being happy. "What if the war is over?"
"Is this how it ends?" I say, leaning over the wall, feeling I might have spied something moving below. But
it's as big and slow as a ship. Must be a cloud's shadow. The night feels thick as a chunk of bread soaked in
soup and I can't see any stars. "They just go away without saying anything?"
"I don't know."
"We should report this."