Волхв

Chapter 68

           Themonasterycameintosight,clinginglikeanOrthodoxGreekmonastery,likeamartin’snest,tothecliff.AGothicloggialookedoutprettilyoverthegreenravine,overalittleapronofcultivatedterracesfallingbelow.Finefrescoesontheinnerwall;coolness,silence.Therewasanoldmonkinablackhabitsittingbehindthedoorthroughtoaninnergallery.IaskedifIcouldseeJohnLeverrier.Isaid,anEnglishman,onaretreat.LuckilyIhadhisletterreadytoshow.Theoldmancarefullydecipheredthesignature,thennoddedandsilentlydisappeareddownintosomelowerlevelofthemonastery.Iwentonintoahall.Aseriesofmacabremurals:deathprickingayoungfalconerwithhislongsword;amedievalstrip-cartoonofagirl,firsttitivatingherselfinfrontofaglass,thenfreshinhercoffin,thenwiththebonesbeginningtoeruptthroughtheskin,thenasaskeleton.Therewasthesoundofsomeonelaughing,anoldmonkwithanamusedfacescoldingayoungeroneinFrenchastheypassedthroughthehallbehindme.Oh,situpensesquelefootballestundignesujetdemeditation…Thenanothermonkappeared;andIknew,withanicyshock,thatthiswasLeverrier.Hewastall,veryclose-cuthair,withathin-checkedbrownface,andglasseswith"standard"NationalHealthframes;unmistakablyEnglish.Hemadealittlegesture,askingifitwasIwhohadaskedforhim."I’mNicholasUrfe.FromPhraxos."Hemanagedtolookamazed,shy,andannoyed,allatthesametime.Afteralongmoment’shesitation,heheldouthishand.

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