Никогде
Four
"Let’shopeyourfather’sjournalgivesussomeclues,"hesaid."Wheredowestartlooking?"Doorshrugged."You’recertainhekeptajournal?"hepressed.
Shenodded."Heusedtogointohisstudy,andprivatethelinksuntilhe’dfinisheddictating."
"We’llstartinthestudy,then."
"ButIlookedthere.Idid.Ilookedthere.WhenIwascleaningupthebody..."Andshebegantocry,inlow,ragingsobs,thatsoundedliketheywerebeingtuggedfrominsideher.
"There.There,"saidthemarquisdeCarabas,awkwardly,pattinghershoulder.Andheadded,forgoodmeasure,"There."Hedidnotcomfortwell.
Door’sodd-coloredeyeswerefilledwithtears."Canyou...canyoujustgivemeasec?I’llbefine."Henoddedandwalkedtothefarendoftheroom.Whenhelookedbackshewasstillstandingthere,onherown,silhouettedinthewhiteentrancechamberfilledwithpicturesofrooms,andshewashuggingherself,andshuddering,andcryinglikealittlegirl.
Richardwasstillupsetaboutthelossofhisbag.
TheLordRat-speakerremainedunmoved.Hestatedbaldlythattherat—MasterLongtail—hadsaidnothingatallaboutreturningRichard’sthings.Justthathewastobetakentomarket.ThenhetoldAnaesthesiathatshewastakingtheUpworldertothemarket,andthat,yes,itwasanorder.Andtostopsnivelling,andtogetamoveon.HetoldRichardthatifhe,LordRat-speaker,eversawhim,Richard,again,thenhe,Richard,wouldbeinagreatdealoftrouble.
