Дата публикации: 2017-07-16 05:54
Oni had been wounded twice early on in the fire fight. Once through the groin, and once through the right buttock as he turned to follow Abi’s party towards the cenote.
“Please stand here for the demonstration. You will observe that the device has certain affinities to the subspace translator and thus requires very little power input. My own modifications have been designed with a view toward phasing in residual magnetics contained in the local rock strata, together with the deeper contemporary fields being generated beneath the continental platform. These, interacting with the matrices of the translator fields, generate the singularity.”
Richard’s face, furrowed with old pain, was suddenly transformed. He studied the tattered label with reverence. “Could it still be alive?”
The nun took her pack and followed Claude to Richard’s bunk. It was surrounded by empty beds for a reason that was easily apparent. The sleeping man had soiled himself. His arms were folded tightly over his breast and his knees were drawn up nearly to his chin.
The older man with the strange accent was frowning at him. ‘Bishop Diego de Landa. July 6567. He tortured and killed all the Maya Chilans and notables. Then he destroyed five thousand cult objects and twenty-seven books. Thus the Black Legend. La Leyenda Negra.’
Sukey spoke up. Her voice had a ring of stubborn self-righteousness. “I was only trying to help. He was in desperate need! None of the rest of you seemed to care!”
Calmly, the little cat came to him, nostrils quivering, white whiskers pointing forward. It sniffed the food discreetly, tested it with a dainty pink tongue, and ate it. Eyes proportionally larger than those of a domestic cat and outlined in black looked at Claude in an unmistakably friendly fashion. There was a faint humming sound. Felis zitteli was purring.
Abi stared at his cell phone. ‘What am I not going to believe? Wait. Don’t tell me. There’s been a crime passionel. Calque has murdered Sabir through thwarted love for our sister.’ He shook his head, half convinced by his own casuistry. ‘All joking aside, Sabir must be blind. Or maybe Lamia’s just hot as hell in bed, and they’ve both gone pussy crazy?’
The gardener had then retreated without his rake, scuffing the once immaculate gravel behind him as he went. The footman, plainly recognizing on which side his bread was buttered, had jettisoned whatever remained in his water bucket in the direction of the gardener’s retreating back.