Abarat 2: Days of Magic, Nights of War. Clive Barker
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Название: Abarat 2: Days of Magic, Nights of War
Автор: Clive Barker
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Героическая фантастика
isbn: 9780007355259
isbn:
The audience, of course, didn’t care. What did it matter to them whether this was true or not? A story was a story. All they wanted was to be entertained.
Candy beckoned to Malingo, who squatted down on his haunches beside her.
“Who do you suppose told the playwright about what happened to us?” she whispered to him. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t me.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of spirits on Ninnyhammer who could have been listening.”
By now the play was heading for its big conclusion , and events onstage were getting more and more spectacular. Tootinfruit had stolen a volume of Codswoddle’s magic, and a battle of wild conjurations ensued, with the stage set becoming a fourth actor in the play. Furniture came to life and stalked around the stage; Codswoddle’s yellow-suited ancestors stepped out of a painting on the wall and tap-danced. And finally Qwandy used a spell to open up a hole in the floor, and the malevolent Codswoddle and all his train of monstrous tricks were snatched away into what Candy assumed was the Abaratian version of hell. Finally, to everybody’s delight, the walls of the house folded up and were dragged away down the same infernal hole, leaving Qwandy and Jingo standing against a backcloth of sparkling stars, free at last. It was all strangely satisfying, even for Candy, who knew that this version was very far from the truth. When the crowd rose to give the bowing actors a standing ovation, she found herself rising to join in the applause.
Then the painted red curtain came down, and the crowd began to disperse, talking excitedly and repeating favorite lines to one another.
“Did you enjoy it?” Malingo asked Candy.
“In a weird way, yes. It’s nice to hear that laughter. It—”
She stopped for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” said Malingo.
“I thought I heard somebody calling out my name.”
“Here? No, I—”
“There! Somebody is calling my name.” She looked over the crowd, puzzled.
“Maybe one of the actors,” Malingo said. Looking back toward the stage. “Perhaps you were recognized?”
“No. It wasn’t one of the actors,” Candy replied.
“Who then?”
“Him.”
She pointed across the rows of benches toward a solitary figure who was standing close to the flap of the tent. The man was instantly recognizable, even though they were just catching glimpses of him through the departing crowd. The colorless skin, the deep-set eyes, the designs on his cheeks. There was no mistaking him.
It was Otto Houlihan, the Criss-Cross Man.
“HOW DID YOU FIND us?” Candy asked. Otto Houlihan smiled that joyless smile of his. “I followed the trail of stinking smatterlings,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out where you’d gone. You’re not all that clever, whatever you might think.”
“But how—”
“—did I know you were making a getaway on a little fishing boat?”
“Kud told him,” Malingo said.
“Good guess, geshrat,” Otto replied. He didn’t look at Malingo. He concentrated his chilly gaze on Candy. “My, but you’ve become so much more famous since last we met.” He glanced toward the stage. “Apparently your life is now the stuff of bad comedy. Imagine that.”
“Why don’t you give up the chase?” Candy replied. “We’re never going to let you take us. You know that.”
“If I had my way,” Houlihan replied, raising his hands as he started to approach her, “you would be buried right here. But Carrion wants you alive. And so alive I must take you.”
If any of the departing audience had heard this, they decided to ignore it. Now everyone had departed. The Criss-Cross Man didn’t bother to look around at the empty auditorium. He had all his attention focused on Candy.
“Run…” Malingo murmured to her.
Candy shook her head and stood her ground. She wasn’t going to let Houlihan think that she was afraid. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
“Please, lady,” Malingo said. “Don’t let him—”
“Ah!” said a ripe, rounded voice from the direction of the stage. “Fans!”
With a little growl of frustration, Houlihan dropped his hands, still a stride or two away from Candy. The man who had just played Jaspar Codswoddle had appeared from backstage. He was nowhere near as fat or as tall as the character he had just portrayed. The illusion had been created with a false stomach, a false bottom and leg extensions, some of which he was still wearing. In fact he was a diminutive man, and beneath his makeup—most of which he’d wiped off—he was bright green. The robes he’d thrown on offstage were more theatrical than anything he’d worn during the play. Behind him came his entourage of two: a highly muscled woman in a florid dress and what looked like a five-foot ape in a coat and carpet slippers.
“Who wants an autograph then?” the little green actor said. “I’m Legitimate Eddie, in case you didn’t recognize me. I know, I know, it was an uncanny transformation! Oh, and this young lady behind me is Betty Thunder.” The woman curtsied inelegantly. “Perhaps you’d like an autograph from Betty? Or from my playwright, Clyde?” The ape also bowed deeply. Candy glanced around at Houlihan. He had retreated a step or two. Obviously he didn’t like the idea of doing anything violent in front of these three witnesses. Especially when one of them—Betty Thunder—looked as though she could break his nose with one punch.
“I’d love an autograph,” Candy said. “You were wonderful.”
“You thought so?” Legitimate Eddie replied. “Wonderful?”
“Really.”
“You’re too kind,” he protested with a sly smile of satisfaction. “One does one’s best.” He quickly produced a pen from behind the rolls of his stomach fat.
“You have something for me to sign?” he said.
Candy pulled up the sleeve of her jacket. “Here!” she said, proffering her bare forearm.
“Are you sure?”
“I won’t ever wash it off!” Candy said. She caught Malingo’s eye as she spoke, and with a couple of darting looks to left and right, instructed him to look for a quick exit.
“What shall I write?” Eddie wanted to know.
“Let me see,” Candy said. “How about: To the real Qwandy Tootinfruit.”
“That’s СКАЧАТЬ