Читать книгу The Orphan - Peter Lerangis - Страница 6
ОглавлениеMY EYES BLINKED open. I was on the ground. Facing upward.
I sprang to my feet. Where was he? Where was the guard?
I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice—but it was from the other side of the wall. I had fallen inside the Inner Grove. He could not see me, nor I him! “Hiding behind a bush—sleeping, Marcellus?” grunted the voice. I had to adjust it in my mind. He was speaking Judean. “I should report you!”
“But you won’t,” another voice replied, “because I’ll tell the king you called him a fish-footed lizard!”
The two guards laughed. But in truth, they didn’t care. I suppose they disliked the king, too.
Most important, they hadn’t seen me.
The air was damp and heavy. I glanced around. The king’s Inner Grove was choked with plants, trees, shrubs, flowers, vines. I tried to feel good that I’d made it inside. There were places for me to hide, but my mind held only one thought:
What is hiding from me?
I saw shadows everywhere. I tried not to think about the Babylonian legends that passed in whispers at night. The Unspeakables. The monsters who were said to roam the grove at night, watching over Mother’s Mountain—giant black birds with metal for skin, monkey-like creatures who spat fire—all were guarded by the biggest monster of all, the evil sightless Kranag.
Nonsense. Childish. Even when I was hardly old enough to carry a full water jug I didn’t believe these tales.
I steeled myself, thought of Frada and how frail and near death she seemed, and I pushed forward, toward the Tree of Enchantment.
And then the dense brush ended abruptly, and there was the pomegranate tree. In the afternoon sun, its leaves seemed to dance with the passing breeze. I was no stranger to gardening. I had seen magnificent plants and trees before. I had coaxed dying plants into glorious life. But this was like a living, breathing being, as thick as clouds, as glorious as a song.
I drew closer, eyeing a half-dozen fist-sized fruits, right at my eye level. A tree that size should have carried dozens, maybe hundreds of pomegranates, but its offerings were few. Special and rare.
My fingers shook in the dappled sunlight as I reached out and pulled.
With a soft snap, the reddish-brown fruit came loose. I had it. The pomegranate was mine.
But before I could move away, I heard a strange, strangled sound. A hollow Zoo-kulululu! Cack! Cack! Cack! like a fierce roar forcing itself through a tiny slit. Whatever had caused it was inside the tree—behind a drooping branch in front of my eyes. What on earth could it be?
Run! screamed a voice in my head.
I should have listened to my instinct. I don’t know what made me reach out, pull the leaves aside. Curiosity, I guess. Or maybe insanity. But when I did, I was staring into a knothole.
And two inky black eyes were staring back.
I stumbled back, nearly dropping the pomegranate. With a flutter of wings, a black creature flew out of the tree toward me. It had the mask of a wolf and the body of a hawk. Its feathers were a black so pure that it shone almost blue in the light. As I dropped to the ground, its feathers grazed my cheek. And then, with another screech, it was gone.
My heart pounded. I had startled it. It meant no harm. But as it flew over the tree canopies, surely the guards would see it. Would they suspect an intruder?
I had to move. I placed the pomegranate in the pouch that hung from my waist and ran to the wall, crashing through the underbrush.
On this side, the wall was sheer, polished to a smooth white luster. I could no easier climb it than fly over it. I glanced around desperately for a tree close to the wall. Something from which I could launch myself. But I could no longer see the place where I’d come in, and there were no trees here. The king’s architect had been crafty, making it difficult to escape.
I ran blindly along the wall, hoping for a rough patch. A place where earthquakes had caused a section of the wall to crack, perhaps. But all I saw was smoothness, until I reached the entrance to the Inner Grove. The door was thick wood, reinforced by a metal gate. Framing it was a huge archway carved deeply with figures of beasts—lions, bulls, and the ancient mushushu that looked like both a lion and a lizard.
Footholds galore. It was practically a ladder for me. I couldn’t help but grin as I grabbed onto the carvings and hoisted myself upward.
I paused at the top and looked down the other side. To freedom. I was tempted to jump—but I knew if I did, I risked breaking an ankle. I looked around for something that would cushion my fall.
There. To my left, nearly thirty yards away, was a thin tree, fairly close to the wall. I could jump to it, and it would hold my weight. Then I’d climb safely down the other side.
As I shimmied across the top of the wall, I saw movement in the underbrush. I stiffened. A guard trundled out from under the tree. He was yawning, stretching, raising his face upward. In a moment he would see me. I flattened myself as much as I could. My heart beat so hard I feared it would shake the wall.
With an oddly high-pitched scream, the guard jumped backward. Had he seen me?
No. He was looking downward. I saw a flash of orange at his feet—a lizard skittering across his toes. Startled, the guard muttered angrily and hustled away on his rounds. I waited until he was out of sight, counted to three, and shimmied quickly along the top of the wall.
“Zoo-kulululu! Cack! Cack! Cack!” came a piercing shriek from above me.
The giant black wolf-bird landed on the wall, not ten feet away, blocking my path toc the tree. It bent its neck toward me as if examining some strange specimen. “Shoo!” I whispered, but that just made it screech again.
I heard the thumping of footsteps. The guard was approaching again. Instead, I aped the bird’s song—“Zoo-kulululu! Cack! Cack! Cack!”—as loudly and shrilly as I could. It was startled for a moment, and I took the opportunity to push the bird aside and leap onto the nearby tree.
Half falling, half climbing, I made my way down the tree. I hit the ground in a roll and got immediately to my feet.
“You! Stop in the name of the king!”
The guard was tromping through the underbrush toward me, his spear twitching in his hand. Soon there would be others. Big, monstrous men with more strength than I would ever have.
But far, far less speed.
The pomegranate banged against my leg as I ran among the vines and trees. On the pathway I barged into the growing crowd of people who were leaving the garden to return home. The guard’s shouts were growing distant now, causing a vague sense of confusion far behind me. My shawl fell to my neck as I bolted back through the outer gate.
And directly into the guard who had dragged the ragged man into the street.
“End of the run for you, street rat,” he said, grabbing my arm.
