| Glumsrer | Дата: Четверг, 22.08.2013, 00:48 | Сообщение # 1 |
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Статус:  | Still — avoiding leeches was better than picking them off.What are you up to, Nn?For a moment he considered refusing the request until AnnaГЇg agreed to make something to replace the vapors.He followed her logic, understood why she couldn't do it, but still, something about her refusal bothered him.Maybe it was because she didn't take him seriously, that she thought her cause was bigger than his.
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And it was, wasn't it?How many of his people — his relatives — had died because of Umbriel?But the skraws weren't to blame for that.They didn't even know it had happened.But someone was responsible.
He turned to Wert, who was watching him patiently.That should get someone's attention.Early on Glim had found his way to the trees of the Fringe Gyre.The flying island of Umbriel was a rough cone, with the apex pointed down.The sump was a basin in that cone, and most of the population of the city lived in warrens in the stone.
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The lords lived on the upper edge in their delicate habitations of metal and crystal.But another world sprouted from the verge of the rim, enormous trees whose roots sank deep into the rock where vesicles from the sump fed and watered them, and whose boughs and branches flowed far out from the island like a sort of lacy collar, bending in a rightwise whorl.It was a world of strange birds and weird gardens growing from intentionally rotted places in the wood, of fruits and nuts and warbling monkeylike things.Next to the sump, he liked this place most, and sometimes better.Part of it was the feeling of freedom the place afforded, but part of it was a familiarity that spoke to him almost below the level of consciousness, a sense of intrinsic belonging he'd lost months ago.
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