Abarat - Barker Clive (бесплатная библиотека электронных книг TXT) 📗

"The harbor," he replied.

"What harbor?" Candy said. "There's no harbor here. This is Minnesota. We're hundreds of miles from the ocean. No, thousands."

"Perhaps we're thousands of miles from any ocean you are familiar with, lady," said John Fillet, with a gap-toothed smile. "But there are oceans and oceans. Seas and seas."

"What on earth is he talking about?" Candy asked Mischief.

John Mischief pointed toward the tower that stood sixty or seventy yards from where they stood.

"That, lady, is a lighthouse," he said.

"No," said Candy, with a smile. The idea was preposterous. "Why would anybody—"

"Look at it," said John Drowze. "It is a lighthouse ."

Candy studied the odd tower again.

Yes, she could see that indeed it could have been designed as a lighthouse. There were the rotted remains of a staircase, spiraling up the middle of it, leading to a room at the top, which might have housed a lamp. But so what?

"Somebody was crazy," she remarked.

"Why?" said John Slop.

"Oh, come on," said Candy. "We've been through this. We're in Minnesota. There is no sea in—"

Candy stopped mid-sentence. Mischief had put his hand to his mouth, hushing her.

As he did so all of his brothers looked off in one direction or another. A few were sniffing the air, others tasting it on their lips. Whatever they did and wherever they looked, they all came to the same conclusion, and together they murmured two words.

"Shape's here ," they said.

M ischief instantly grabbed candy's arm and pulled her down into the long grass. His eyes were neither wild nor sly now. They were simply afraid. His brothers, meanwhile, were peering over the top of the grass in every direction, and now and then exchanging their own fearful looks. It was most peculiar for Candy to be with one person, and yet be in the company of a small crowd.

"Lady," Mischief said, very softly, "I wonder if you would dare something for me?"

"Dare?"

"I would quite understand if you preferred not. This isn't your battle. But perhaps Providence put you here for a reason."

"Go on," Candy said.

Given how unhappy and purposeless she'd been feeling in the last few hours (no, not hours: months, even years), she was happy to listen to anybody with a theory about why she was here.

"If I could distract Mendelson Shape's attention away from you for long enough, maybe you could get to the lighthouse, and climb the stairs? You carry far less weight than I, and the stairs may support you better."

"What for?"

"What do you mean: what for?"

"Well, once I've climbed the stairs—"

"She wants to know what she does next," John Slop said.

"That's simple enough, lady," said John Fillet.

"When you get to the top," said John Pluckitt, "you must light the light !'

Candy glanced up at the ruined tower: at the spiraling spire of its staircase, and the rotting boards of its upper floor. She couldn't imagine the place was in working order, not in its present state.

"Doesn't it need electricity?" she said. "I mean, I can't even see a lamp."

"There's one up there, we swear," said John Moot. "Please trust us. We may be desperate, but we're not stupid. We wouldn't send you on a suicide mission."

"So how do I make this lamp work?" Candy asked. "Is there an on-off switch?"

"You'll know how to use it the moment you set eyes on it," Mischief said. "Light's the oldest game in the world ."

She looked at them, her gaze going from face to face. They looked so frightened, so exhausted. "Please, lady," said Mischief. "You're our only chance now."

"Just one more question—" Candy said.

"No time," said Drowze. "I see Shape."

"Where?" said Fillet, turning to follow his brother's gaze. He didn't need any further direction. He simply said. "Oh Lordy Lou, there he is."

Candy raised her head six inches and looked in the same direction that Fillet and Drowze were looking. The rest of the brothers—Mischief included—followed that stare.

And there, no more than a stone's throw from the spot where Candy and the brothers were crouched in the grass, was the object of their fear: Mendelson Shape.

The sight of him made Candy shudder. He was twice the height of Mischief, and there was something spiderish about his grotesque anatomy. His almost fleshless limbs were so long, she could readily imagine him walking up a wall. On his back there was a curious arrangement of cruciform rods that almost looked like four swords which had been fused to his bony body. He was naked but for a pair of striped shorts, and he walked with a pronounced limp. But there was nothing frail about him. Despite the lack of muscle, and that limp of his, he looked like a creature born to do harm. His expression was joyless and sour, filled with hatred toward the world.

Having got herself a glimpse of him, Candy ducked down quickly, before Shape's wrathful gaze came her way.

Curiously, it was only now, seeing this second freakish creature, that she wondered if perhaps she wasn't having some kind of hallucination. How could such beings be here in the world with her?

The same world as Chickentown, as Miss Schwartz and Deborah Hackbarth?

"Before we go any further," she said to the brothers, "I need an answer to something."

"Ask away," said John Swallow.

"Am I dreaming this?"

By way of reply, all eight brothers shook their heads, their faces for once expressing the same thing. No, this is no dream , those faces said.

Nor, deep in her bones, had she expected the answer to be any different. They were all awake together, she and the brothers, and all in terrible jeopardy.

Mischief saw the sequence of thoughts crossing her face. The doubt that she was even awake, and then the fear that indeed she was.

"This is all Providence, I swear," he said to her. "You're here because you can light the light. You and only you."

She did her best to put the fear out of her head and to concentrate on what John Mischief had just said. In a curious way it made sense that she was here because she had to be here. She thought of the doodle she'd made on her workbook; the way it had seemed to brighten in her mind's eye, inspiring her limbs to move . It was almost as though the doodle had been a sign, a ticket to this adventure. Why else, after living all her life in Chickentown, should she be here—in a place she'd never been before—today?

This must be what John Mischief meant by Providence.

"So, lady?" Mischief said. "What is your decision?"

"If I'm not dreaming this, then perhaps it is Providence."

"So you'll go?"

"Yes, I'll go," Candy said simply.

Mischief smiled again, only this time, they all smiled with him. Eight grateful faces, smiling at her for being here, and ready to chance her life. That was what was at stake right now, she didn't doubt it. The monster moving through the grass nearby would kill them all if he got his claws into them.

"Good luck," Mischief whispered. "We'll see you again when you come down."

And without offering any further instruction, he and his brothers darted off through the grass, bent double to keep out of Shape's sight until they were clear of her.

Candy's heart was thumping so hard she could hear her pulse in her head. Ten, fifteen seconds passed. She listened. The grass hissed all around her. Strangely enough, she'd never felt so alive in her life.

Another half minute went by. She was tempted to chance another peep above the surface of the swaying grass, to see whether Mendelson Shape was limping in her direction, but she was afraid to do so in case he was almost upon her.

Then, to her infinite relief, she heard eight voices all yelling at the same time:

"Hey, you! Mendelson Shmendelson! Looking for us? We're over here!"

Candy waited a heartbeat, then she chanced a look.

Shape, it seemed, had indeed been looking in her direction, and had she raised her head a second earlier would have seen her. But now he was swinging around, following the sound of the brothers' voices.

At that moment, Mischief leaped up out of the grass and began racing away from the lighthouse, diverting Shape's attention.

Shape threw open his arms, his huge, iron-taloned claws spread as wide as five-fingered fans.

"There. You. Are !" he roared.

His voice was as ugly as his anatomy: a guttural din that made Candy's stomach churn.

As he spoke, the configuration of crosses on his back shifted, rising up like featherless, metallic wings. He reached over his shoulders and grabbed two of the blades, pulling them out of the scabbards in his leathery flesh. Then he started through the grass toward his prey.

Candy knew she could not afford to delay. The brothers were chancing their lives so that she could attempt to reach the lighthouse unseen. She had to go now , or their courage would be entirely in vain.

Candy didn't watch the pursuit a moment longer. Instead, she set her eyes on the lighthouse and she began to run , not even bothering to try and conceal herself by staying below the level of the grass. Simply depending for distraction upon Shape's terrible appetite to have the John brothers in his grasp.

As she raced through the grass, she became aware that the great rain cloud that had first caught her eye was now directly above the lighthouse, hovering like a golden curtain over the drama below.

Was this part of the makings of Providence too ? she wondered as she ran. Did clouds also have their place in the shape of things ?

By the time the thought had passed through her head, she had reached the threshold of the lighthouse. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder at Mischief and his pursuer.

Much to her horror she saw that her brief period of protection was over. Shape had given up chasing the brothers—realizing perhaps that the pursuit was just a diversion—and he had now turned his attention back toward the lighthouse.

His eyes fixed upon Candy, and he let out a bloodcurdling cry at the sight of her. He spread his arms wide, and with swords in hand, he began to move toward her.