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:
“It still is,” Filth said. “’Cept it don’t have Kings or Queens in it no more.”
“What happened to them?”
“Weren’t you taught no history at school?”
“Not Abaratian history, no.”
“What other kind of history is there?” Filth said, giving Candy a strange look from the corner of his eye. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Actually, the palace was really built for Claus’ daughter, Princess Boa. And when she died, her father told everybody—his courtiers, his cooks, his maidservants, his fool—me—to just go our various ways and find happiness any way we could.”
“But you didn’t go?”
“Oh, I went for a while. I tried being a nun, but I didn’t like the hats.” Candy laughed at this, but Filth’s expression remained perfectly serious, which somehow made the joke even funnier.
“So you came back?” Candy said.
“Where else was I going to go? What’s a fool to do without a King? I was nothing. Nobody. At least here I had the memory of being happy. She’d made us happy, you see. She could do that.”
“She being—?”
“Princess Boa, of course.”
Princess Boa. It was a name Candy had heard spoken several times, but always in whispers.
“Claus had two children,” Filth said, “Prince Quiffin and Princess Boa. They were both fine, beautiful creatures—that’s Quiffin over there.” He pointed to a portrait of a fine-featured young man, with his dark hair and beard coiffed into delicate curls. “And the girl gathering the arva blossoms, over there? That’s my sweet Princess when she was eleven. She was something special, even then. Another order of being, she was. There was this light in her…in her eyes. No. In her soul. It just shone out of her eyes. And it didn’t matter how grumpy or down in the mouth you were feeling, you only had to be with her for a minute or two and everything was good again.” He fell silent for a few seconds, then very quietly repeated himself: “Everything…was…good.”
“Was it a sickness that killed her?”
“No. She was murdered.”
“Murdered? How horrible.”
“On the day of her wedding. Right there in the church, standing beside the man she was going to marry, Finnegan Hob.” Tears were brimming in the munkee’s eyes. “I was there. I saw it all. And I never want to see anything so terrible again as long as I live. It was as if all the light went out of the world in one moment.”
“Who murdered her?” Candy asked.
Filth’s face was completely motionless, except his eyes, which flickered back and forth like panicked prisoners in the cells of his skull.
“They said a dragon did it. Well, a dragon did do it; at least the killing part. And Finnegan killed the thing right outside the church, so that was an end to that. But the real villain…” His eyes closed for a moment. When they opened again he was looking directly at Candy. “The Lord of Gorgossium,” he said, very quietly. “That’s who made it happen. Christopher Carrion.”
“Why wasn’t he arrested?”
The munkee made a bitter laugh. “Because he’s the Prince of Midnight. Untouchable by the laws of Day. And nobody on the Nightside would bring him to law; how could they? Not when he was the last Carrion! It makes me crazy to think about it! He has her blood on his hands, her light on his hands. And he goes free, to cause more mischief. There’s no justice in this world!”
“You know this for certain?” Candy said. “That he’s guilty of her murder?”
After a moment’s musing, Filth said: “Put it this way: if he was standing here right now, and I had the means to do away with him…I would.” The munkee snapped his fingers. “Like that! There are some things you don’t need evidence for. You just know. In your heart. I don’t know why he did it. I don’t really care. I only know he did.” Now he fell silent, and in the lush breeze the lament returned.
“Sad music,” Candy said.
“Well, this isn’t a place of dancing. Not anymore. Will you excuse me for a while? I don’t feel in the mood to go on talking.”
“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“The number of times I’ve told myself: do your best to be happy. You can’t change the past. She’s gone forever. And that’s all there is to it. But I suppose there’s a little corner of my heart that refuses to believe that.”
He gave Candy one last, mournful glance, and then he headed off into the blue shadows. As he went he said: “The musician’s called Bilarki, by the way. He doesn’t talk anymore, so don’t try and get a conversation out of him; you’ll be wasting your time.”
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