Nation - Пратчетт Терри Дэвид Джон - Страница 61

So he swam face upward along the underside of the trunk, his nose only a foot or so from the bark, which was covered with tiny crabs.

That was how it would end. The best thing to do would be to leap up and get shot. That would surely be better than a shark’s teeth. And then everyone who knew about the Nation would die —

Are you totally stupid, Mau? It was the new voice, and it said: I’m you, Mau, I’m just you. You will not die. You will win, if you pay attention!

Click…

The pale green weed in front of him moved and he saw something black. In a moment where time stood still, he brushed the weeds aside and saw it, wedged firmly in the trunk: a trunk that was full of little marks to show where men had helped other men.

He had been proud of himself that day. He had hit the tree with the alaki axehead so hard that it would take all the next boy’s strength to pull it out. The next boy was him.

Without thinking, and watching himself, somehow, from the outside, he grabbed the handle and raised his legs until they were firm against the underside of the trunk. The axe was stuck fast.

“I can hear you wriggling about,” said a voice right above him. “You will be wriggling a whole lot faster in a moment. I can see the fins coming. Oh my giddy aunt, I wish I’d brought sandwiches.”

Click…

The axe came loose. Mau felt nothing. The grayness was back in his mind. Don’t think. Do the things that must be done, one after another. The axe was free. Now he had it. This was a fact. The other fact was that Cox had now loaded his pistol.

Mau dragged himself branch by branch to the little area where he could breathe without being seen. At least, the area where he hoped he could not be seen. As he ducked his head down, a bullet went past it. Five bullets left, and Cox was losing his temper: he fired again (four bullets left; a fact), and Cox was right above him, searching for movement in the tangle of floating greenery. The bullet had come down as straight as a spear but had tumbled and lost its way. It’s hard to run through water, Mau told himself. The more you try, the harder it gets. A fact. It must be the same for bullets. A new fact.

“Did I get you that time?” said Cox. “I hope I did for your sake, ’cause they’re getting closer. Actually, I was just saying that to be nice, ’cause I want to see you wriggling. I want to stay here until I sees the sharks burp, and then I will go back and have a nice chat with your little lady.”

Mau’s lungs were beginning to hurt. He made the tree trunk wobble, then let himself sink. He didn’t hear what Cox shouted, but four bullets splashed into the water high above him, left trails of bubbles for a few moments, and then just tumbled away in the current.

Six shots. Only the little pistol would be left. No, Cox would have to reload. And that needed both hands. A fact.

Now there had to be more facts, one after the other, all falling carefully into place like little gray blocks.

Mau rose fast, dragging the axe behind him. He grabbed the stub of a broken branch with his free hand, got a purchase with his feet on another, and, with his lungs on fire, let all the momentum of his rise and all the strength left in his body flow into his arm.

The axe came out of the water in a great curve, moving in space but not in time, water droplets hanging in the air to mark the arc of its passage. It blocked the light of the sun, it made the stars come out, it caused thunderstorms and strange sunsets around the world (or so Pilu said later on) — and as time came back at double speed, the axe hit Cox in the chest and he went backward off the log. Mau saw him raising his pistol as he sank, and then his expression changed to an enormous grin, with blood at the corners, and he was dragged into the swirling waters.

The sharks had arrived for dinner.

Mau lay on top of the log until the commotion died down. And he thought, in those little white thoughts that scribbled their way along the redness of the pain in his lungs: That was a really good axe. I wonder if I’ll be able to find it again.

He pushed himself onto his knees and blinked, not quite certain who he was. And then he looked down and saw the gray shadow.

I will walk in your steps for a while, said a voice just above his head.

Mau pulled himself onto his feet, not an unbruised thought in his head, walked to the far end of the log, and stepped onto the path across the broken coral. Grayness filled the air around him as he walked, and on either side the great wings of Locaha beat gently. He felt like… metal, hard and sharp and cold.

They reached the first of the big war canoes, and he stepped onto it. The few warriors who hadn’t already jumped into the water fell to their knees, terrified. He looked into their eyes.

They can see me. They worship me, Locaha said. Belief is a hard thing to believe, is it not? For now, at this time, here in this moment under these stars — you have the gift. You can kill them with a touch, a word, by the passing of your shadow. You have earned this. How would you like them to die?

“Take your captives to the shore and leave them there,” Mau said to the nearest men. “Pass this command along and then go. If you stay here, I will close my wings over you.”

That is all? said Locaha.

Thoughts pieced themselves together in the chill on Mau’s mind as he turned and headed across the coral.

“Yes,” he said, “it is.”

I would have acted differently, said the voice of death.

“And I would not, Locaha. I’m not you. I have choices.”

Mau plodded on, in silence and gray shadow.

This day turned out well for you, said the voice of Locaha.

Mau still said nothing. Behind them the Raiders’ fleet was boiling with terrified activity. There will be so many new mouths to feed, he thought. So much to do. Always so much to do.

I am not often surprised, said Locaha, and you are wrong. There is one choice I can make, in the circumstances….

The sand under Mau’s feet turned black, and there was darkness on every side. But in front was a pathway of glittering stars.

Mau stopped and said, “No. Not another trap.”

But this is the way to the Perfect World! said Locaha. Only a very few have seen this path!

Mau turned around. “I think that if Imo wants a perfect world, he wants it down here,” he said. He could still see the beach around him, but it was indistinct, as if it was behind a wall of dark water.

This one? It’s far from perfect! said Locaha.

“It’s a little more perfect today. And there will be more days.”

You really want to go back? said Locaha. There are no second chances — there are no chances at all. There is only… what happens.

“And what does not happen?” said Mau.

That? That happens, too, somewhere else. Everything that can happen must happen, and everything that can happen must have a world to happen in. That is why Imo builds so many worlds that there are not enough numbers to count them. That is why His fire glows so red. Good-bye, Mau. I look forward with interest to our next meeting. You turn worlds upside down…. Oh, and one other thing. Those others I mentioned, who have been shown the glittering path? They all said the same thing as you did. They saw that the perfect world is a journey, not a place. I have only one choice, Mau, but I’m good at making it.

The grayness faded and tried to take memories with it. Mau’s mind grabbed at them as they streamed away and the gray barrier faded and let the light rush back in.

He was alive, and that was a fact. The ghost girl was running along the beach with her arms reaching out, and that was another fact. His legs felt strange and weak, and that was a fact that was getting more factual with every passing minute. But when she held him as they watched the tragic cargoes unloaded, and did not move until the last war canoe was a dot on the never-ending horizon… that was a fact as big as the Nation.