Читать книгу The Secrets of Names. Snow Chronicles. Book 1 - Ар'лан ис'Дрекхэм - Страница 6
Door
ОглавлениеIt hung in the middle of the yard: neither white nor grey, but shining faintly from inside itself, as though each flake had swallowed a tiny star and was trying not to make a fuss about it. It did not whirl like ordinary snow. It did not drift down. It simply stayed there.
Which was much worse.
«Is that their world?» Vera asked in a whisper.
«Only the edge of it, so far,» said Domino. «Worlds, like respectable cats, do not fling themselves upon one all at once. One has to know how to look.»
«And if I don’t know how?»
«Then you learn. Human beings are surprisingly tenacious creatures. Especially when cornered.»
He walked forward, and Vera followed, because in dreams there is no point arguing with a talking cat any more than there is arguing with a train that has already started moving. It will always turn out to be more right than you, chiefly because it is heavier.
The yard began to stretch in a peculiar way. The fence Domino had been sitting on slid sideways. The trees drew back, making room for something larger. The air trembled, like heat above stones, and through that trembling everything familiar began to look not foreign exactly, but unfinished.
«Listen carefully,» said Domino, without turning round. «I dislike explaining things twice, and a third time I refuse on principle.»
«How comforting.»
«I am not comforting you. I am warning you. To enter the World of Meanings, there are three things you must do.»
«What things?»
Domino stopped.
He turned and looked at her with that terribly serious expression cats very seldom wear, which makes it all the more alarming when they do.
«First, you must remember your name.»
«That I can manage.»
«Do not boast too soon. Most people are perfectly sure they know how to remember themselves until they are required to do it properly.»
Vera was just going to object, but Domino went on at once.
«Second, you must find a door where there is no door.»
«How convenient.»
«Worlds are under no obligation to be convenient. They put up with people far more than people deserve already.»
«And third?»
Domino narrowed his eyes.
«You must not give yourself to fear before you step through.»
It did not sound like a riddle.
It sounded like a rule.
Which made Vera dislike it much more.
«That’s all?» she asked, in the careful tone children use at exactly the moments when they are very far from indifferent.
«For a beginning, yes,» said Domino. «Afterwards it gets worse.»
«Thank you. You have a remarkable gift for encouragement.»
«It is one of humanity’s more exhausting habits,» said Domino, «to expect compliments from the truth.»
He moved on. The snowy light was brighter now, and Vera suddenly noticed that under her feet there was no path any more, and no old paving stones from the yard either. There was something smooth and shifting, like thin ice over very deep water.
Then she heard a rustling.
Not behind her. Not to either side.
Everywhere at once.
She spun round – and her heart clenched into something cold and hard.
Figures were standing at the edge of the yard.
At first Vera thought they were people. Then she thought they were shadows. Then she decided it would be wisest not to decide anything, because the truth was almost certain to be worse.
There were three of them. Or five. Or seven. The eye slid over them the way it slides over rain on a window: you could count them, perhaps, but not quite believe in them. They were like people whose faces had been forgotten before they were finished. Smooth, blank heads. No eyes. No mouths. Tilted slightly, as if listening to something inside her.
«Domino,» Vera said very quietly. «Who are they?»
«The Faceless Ones,» said Domino so matter-of-factly that the answer was all the more dreadful. «Do not speak to them. They may not bite, but I do not believe you would care for their embraces.»
«I wasn’t going to!»
«Excellent. One sensible thought all night.»
The Faceless Ones came nearer.
Not quickly. But that is the way of dreams. Sometimes a thing does not run or leap or lunge. It is simply closer than it was a moment ago. And that makes you want not to scream, but to wake up. Unfortunately, dreams of this sort know perfectly well that you want to wake, and have no respect for the wish.
Vera stepped back.
«What do they want?»
«The same thing empty creatures always want,» said Domino, his tail puffing out. «Somebody else’s name. Somebody else’s shape. Somebody else’s life. Poor wretches. They possess nothing of their own.»
One of the figures lifted a hand.
There were no nails on the fingers. Indeed, the fingers themselves looked as if the hand had not fully decided whether it wished to be a hand or merely a bad idea.
«Vera…» said someone.
But it was not a voice.
It was the idea of a voice.
As if her name were being half-remembered in a room where nobody had called anybody for a very long time.
Cold crept under Vera’s skin.
«They know my name?»
«They are only sniffing at it so far,» said Domino sharply. «Now remember.»
«Remember what?»
«Yourself, naturally. Not Pythagoras.»
He sprang in front of her and hissed at the Faceless Ones in a way that made the air crackle. Not literally. Dreamily. Which in some circumstances is worse.
«Your name, Vera!» he flung over his shoulder. «Hold on to it! Not as a word. As yourself!»
It was a thoroughly inconvenient instruction.
When things are calm, remembering yourself is easy. You are you, thank you very much. But add faceless shadows, impossible snow, and a cat giving orders like a general with delicate nerves, and one discovers that one’s own name is not tucked tidily into a pocket on a useful little card.
«I… I’m Vera,» she said.
One of the figures shuddered.
«Louder,» snapped Domino.
«I’m Vera!»
This time all the Faceless Ones flinched, as if her words had stung them. But they did not retreat.
What did move was the snow in front of her.
In that shining stillness, something straight began to appear. Vertical. One thin bright line, then another. As if someone were carefully drawing the outline of a door on empty air.
«I can see it!» Vera breathed.
«Seeing is not enough,» said Domino, never taking his eyes off the shadows. «You must believe it is yours.»
«It is mine!»
«You are doubting.»
«I’m not!»
«You are already doubting that you are not doubting.»
«You are atrocious at being helpful!»
«Effective, though.»
The Faceless Ones came nearer again.
This time faster.
They had no need to run. Emptiness knows how to approach with perfect economy.
Vera darted for the door. The bright handle flashed as her fingers touched it – cold, smooth, solid. That was the strangest thing of all. In a dream crowded with impossible things, this one impossible thing had become more real than anything else.
She pulled.
The door did not open.
Behind her came a rustle that turned everything inside her over.
«Domino!»
«It won’t open?» the cat barked, still hissing at the Faceless Ones.
«I don’t know!»
«You do know. You’re afraid.»
And worst of all, he was right.
She was not afraid of the door. Not of the unknown. Not even of the Faceless Ones. She was afraid of stepping through and not being herself on the other side. Of leaving her name behind. Of finding a place where no one knew her, including herself.
The Faceless Ones were very close now.
She could not see their faces – because there were none – but she could feel their hungry attention as clearly as if every blank head were an outstretched hand.
Then Vera shut her eyes.
And began to remember.
Not the letters.
Not a line on the cover of an exercise book.
But the things that made her Vera.
The way Dad had once called her stubborn, and somehow made it sound like praise.
The way Mum laughed when she was so tired she no longer knew whether to scold or hug.
The way Vadim pretended not to care and was always the first to help.
The way Danya lied with enormous inspiration, but never for long, because he always ended by laughing himself.
The way Natan discussed the great secrets of the universe like a man personally responsible for creation – at least until supper.
The way Domino came to her pillow when she was frightened and always behaved as if he had only happened to be passing.
Her name grew warm.
Real.
Hers.
Vera opened her eyes and turned the handle again.
The door swung open.
There was no room behind it.
No corridor. No staircase. No sensible and respectable thing of any sort.
There was snow behind it, as if she had opened a door straight into the middle of a blizzard.
Endless.
Shining.
Alive.
And she stepped into the beautiful glowing storm.
«Domino!» Vera cried, already pitching forwards, because in dreams doors do not always open properly. Sometimes they simply vanish under one out of pure bad behaviour.
«Don’t concern yourself about me!» came Domino’s voice, already growing distant. «I’m a cat! I always land on my feet! Just don’t forget yourself!»
And she fell.
At first she thought it was flying.
Then she understood it was not flying at all, but changing.
Her hands grew lighter than air. Her hair broke into light. Her fingers came apart into thousands of tiny cold sparks.
And instead of being frightened, Vera suddenly knew that every one of those sparks was still her.
