"Jo Walton - The Rebirth of Pan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Walton Jo)

"Likely enough," I say, and again the strangeness of this conversation almost overwhelms me. We
understand each other. This living man is one of my own kind, the first such I have ever met. I don't know
whether to rush towards him or back away "Are you hungry?" I ask.

"I am, indeed," he says. I take a candle and go into the kitchen. This gives me a little breathing
space. With the electricity down I can't give him anything warm, and there isn't much. Some cold
potatoes, some cheese, the rest of the loaf, an apple, but it will help. Better than nothing for a man
who has been out in a storm I take it back in to him, and after thanking me he eats in silence. I watch
him. The storm is still raging and crashing around the house. I consider what I might ask him.

"It's lucky you found this house, out of all the village," I say, as he puts the empty plate down.

"Luck indeed," he says, "Chance, Necessity, or some god. I've no power left as I think you know."

"Why are you here?" I ask.

He sighs. "If I'm here and not somewhere else it's because all places are alike to me now. I've been
wandering a long time, ever since I crossed the line fate set about me. My feet fell this way, that's all."

I didn't expect that. That wasn't what I saw. "You've been wandering aimlessly?" I ask.
 "In my boat and out of it, seven years now."

"Looking for your sister?" I ask.

"She's praying." I can't help glancing at the shrine. Colin laughs, a short harsh laugh. "There's no
solace for her but the Church. She's gone to them wholehearted, and I've not seen her or sought her.
She'll have none of me and she's crying to their bloodless god and his dead son for forgiveness of her
sins."

"Seven years. Seven years and yet the world has not been reborn. But being the midwife to that
rebirth is what I saw as given you to do."

"Don't blame me," He stares into the candle. "I thought I knew everything. I thought I knew how to
make a new world, a better world, an age of choice. I was so confident. But now there is nothing. The
White Christ is dying, and Reason is dying, but the oracles are still silent and Pan has not been reborn.
What can I do now? I am no man at all. My powers were lost when she renounced hers. I am nothing
without her. I thought to make the world anew, but instead the world broke me, because she would not
trust me." He drains his glass and sets it down beside his plate on the tray.

"Nobody can outstep the bounds of fate, but it is a grief to me." I say, carefully. Just then there is a
flash, brighter than all the others. For a moment I think the Sky Father has struck him down where he
sits, as the noise follows, louder than any thunder I ever heard. In the darkness and silence that follows, I
tremble. Then I walk to the window and draw back the curtain. One of the great elms on the ridge has
been struck, riven down the heart. It is burning brightly.

"That's sacred fire," Colin says, quietly. He is standing beside me, very close. I did not feel him
move.

"No use to you, or to me either," The storm is moving away now, westwards. We stand there a