[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
stone slab and read the inscription. The English chiseled into the rock was
archaic but legible.
HERE LIES COL. JOHN SANTHORPE
FELL IN THE SERVICE OF HIS KING
DURING THE REVOLT OF THE AMERICAN COLONIES
MARCH 3RD, 1775
AGED 33 YEARS
"I always thought crypts were buried well below heaven," he muttered. Now Lisa
was moving faster toward the light, leading him on.
"They are, Eric, they are. Where are we? And what happened to Tarragon and his
people? And how did we get here?"
"Plenty of questions, no answers," Eric mumbled in confusion. "Sounds like
life above us, not angels."
They found themselves in a passage lit by sunlight from overhead. The ceiling
was low. They hurried down it and came to a spiral stone staircase. As they
climbed, the voices of the choir grew louder.
The staircase opened into a small room barred by a locked door. The lock
opened easily at Eric's touch and admitted them to an epiphany of light and
sound.
They stood in a side nave, having finally emerged from the catacombs below.
Far away, beneath the immense painted and mosaicked dome, a choir was
rehearsing. As they stared, the conductor stopped, irritatedly bawled out an
off-key tenor. Then the music was resumed. Eric finally recognized the piece
as
Vaughn Williams-s Toward the Unknown Region. Heavenly in inspiration, but
decidedly secular in execution.
Eric didn't recognize their locale, but Lisa had prepared well for her forced
journey to England.
"We're in St. Paul's!" she said excitedly. "But how?"
Eric only half heard her. He was lost in awe at the grandeur of the structure
in which they found themselves.
"'Beautiful," he murmured. "I've always heard about it.
Never thought to see it."
"This is not the time to play tourist." She started polling gently at his arm.
"How did we get here? And can anyone else follow?" Her eyes were darting every
which way. as if she expected Tarragon to spring at them any moment from
behind one of the immense marble pillars. "Strange," Eric mumbled, turning his
attention back to her. "I felt the disorientation. There was a mental wrench,
not a physical one."
"I felt something like that, too," she told him, "but that's a description,
not an explanation." "What does it matter?" he said, suddenly feeling very
alive and light-headed. He took her in his arms again. "I told
Tarragon he'd never separate us again, and he hasn't." the kiss lingered until
they both felt themselves growing short of breath.
"You're never going to have to worry about Tarragon again. I'll take care of
that."
"'So naive, Eric. You're so wonderful and puzzling and handsome and enigmatic,
and so naive. Tarragon will find us. He'll always find us. Somehow we've
Page 115
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
slipped out of his grasp, but only for a moment."
"It's a big world," Eric countered. "And there's always the satellite colonies
on Luna, and Ganymede, and Titan."
"It doesn't matter," she said softly. "He'll find me. It's his job."
"Hang his job and him with it! Not if you love me."
"It's not possible for me to love you, but I do."
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aar/Alan%20Dean%20Foster
%20-%20The%20I%20Inside.txt (113 of 165)19-2-2006 21:56:46
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaa
r/Alan%20Dean%20Foster%20-%20The%20I%20Inside.txt
They stepped clear of the nave and found seats on an empty bench. Other
tourists wandered in respectful silence through the immense chamber. Their
eyes were aimed upward. A few listened and nodded in contentment to the sounds
of the choir.
"When you talk like that," Eric admonished her, "you sound like Tarragon
himself. What's your relationship to him, anyway? I thought he was some kind
of mob chieftain, and later that he worked for one."
"There aren't such things anymore," Lisa told him. "The Colligatarch makes
them impossible."
"There are still rumors," Eric insisted. He found that he couldn't meet her
gaze when he asked the next question. "'Are you some rich politician's or
corporation executive's mistress?"
"No." There was an amused smile on her face, but she wasn't laughing.
"Tarragon does work for the government, but not in an executive capacity. He's
kind of a field supervisor, a troubleshooter for a very important ongoing
project."
Eric frowned. "Then what's his connection with you? Are you involved in this
project somehow?"
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]