"Martha Wells - Wheel of the Infinite" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wells Martha)

pulled from above. Gisar had had the misfortune to be on stage during a performance that had offended a
powerful magister in the eastern province of Corvalent. It was how Maskelle had first met Rastim and the
other Ariaden.
Gisar now lived locked in a box hung beneath Rastim’s wagon and sealed by all the protective
symbols Maskelle knew to put on it. It had been getting stronger, the particular nature of the curse put on
it making its malevolence grow with time instead of fade. It must have been able to manipulate one or
both of the boys from inside its box, so when they had thought they were only unpacking the Aldosi
puppets, they had opened Gisar’s container as well.
“You’ll have to go and get it,” Rastim whispered.
“I know that.” It hadn’t done anything yet, but possibly it was biding its time, waiting for her. Across
the length of the stage she caught Firac’s eye. When she had his attention, she stepped out away from the
wagon.
“Wait,” Rastim said urgently. He gestured rapidly to the others on stage. Ariaden actors had a sign
language, used for communicating silently during the complex performances. Doria suddenly clapped her
hands and gestured extravagantly stage left, saying something about the townspeople’s dancing festival.
Firac, Gardick, and Killia gamboled onto the stage, followed by the two boys with the Aldosi puppets.
Firac whirled the net over his head, looking as much like an escaped madman as a celebratory dancer.
The puppet Gisar stared at them, backing away from the trap. Maskelle darted onto the stage in the
confusion and it sensed her presence immediately, turning to come at her with its hands upraised and
wooden fingers curved into claws. It ran at her, and she thumped it in the chest with her staff, sending the
light body tumbling back. Firac dropped his net over it, and in another moment, Maskelle, Firac, and
Gardick were dragging the creature offstage. The audience applauded happily.
Rastim and Old Mali ran around behind the other wagons to join them, and between the five of them
they managed to drag the thing back to Rastim’s wagon and bundle it back into its crate without drawing
any unwelcome attention. Almost everyone in the post must be watching the play by now and assuming
any odd activity to be connected with it.
Maskelle drew the seals again, in wax and in coalblack, trying to ignore the knocking and rustling
inside the heavy box.
“How did it get out?‘” Gardick demanded, still breathing hard from the struggle. The puppet had
managed to bite his hand and Old Mali was digging the splinters out for him.
The noises quieted as Maskelle made the final sign and she sat back on her heels. “See where the last
seal was scrubbed off? It made someone do that and then made him forget what he did. With the
unpacking you all were doing for the play, it could have been anyone. It’s not such a hard thing, when
someone’s opening boxes, to make him open just one more.”
“Not such a hard thing,” Firac muttered uneasily. “Then why didn’t it do it before?”
Maskelle glanced at Rastim’s worried face. “It’s getting stronger.”
 Gardick swore and Firac moaned. “But we’re closer to Duvalpore and the chief priest,” Rastim said
quickly. “In a few days it’ll all be over.”
Gardick said grimly, “If we’re still alive then. Ow!” The last was to Old Mali, who must have dug a
bit deeper than strictly necessary for the last splinter.
“What we need,” Maskelle said, cutting across the growing argument, “is a lock with a key. I’ll keep
the key.”
“Use the one on the moneybox,” Firac suggested. “There won’t be much to steal, not after we pay
our fees here.”
Swearing under his breath, Rastim fetched the lock and Maskelle fixed it on the box’s latch. Further
discussion was put off by Doria and Therasa, repeating their last exchange at a shout so Firac and
Gardick would hear their cues. Everyone bolted off and Maskelle followed more slowly, shaking her
head. She would like to think that the puppet’s escape was the source of her earlier disquiet, but she had
the feeling it was only a portion of it and the greater part was still to come.
Maskelle went back to her position at the rear of the audience. She looked for her swordsman, but