Читаем Nightside the Long Sun полностью

“All right, there wasn’t a bang like with a slug gun, was there? It was just a rock, and the other sprat threw it with his sling. What you heard was the rock going through the air, just like you might hear the wind in the chimney. The bigger the rock was, and the faster it was going, the more noise it would make.”

“I see,” Silk murmured, and with the words the entire scene returned, glowing with the vivid colors and hot shame of youth: the whizzing stones, his futile defense and final flight, the blood that had streamed from his face down his best white tunic to dye its embroidered flowers.

“All right, a needle’s just a tiny little thing, but when it’s shot out it goes so fast that the rock might just as well be traveling backwards. So it makes that noise you heard. If it had got slewed around before it hit that jug you shot, it would have screeched like a tomcat.” Auk swept his needles into a pile with his hands. “They drop down inside the handle. See? All right. Right under my finger is a little washer with a hole in the middle and a lot of sparks in it.”

Silk raised his eyebrows, more than ready to grasp at any distraction. “Sparks?”

“Just like you see if you pet a cat in the dark. They got put into the washer when this needler was made, and they chase each other around and around the hole in that washer till you need them. When I close the breech, that’ll stick the first needle into the barrel, see?” Auk flicked on the safety. “If I’d have pulled the trigger, that would tap off some sparks for the coil. And as long as it’s got sparks, that coil works like a big lodestone. It’s up front here looped around the barrel, and it sucks the needle to it real fast. You’d think it would stay right there after it gets there, wouldn’t you?”

Silk nodded again. “Or be drawn back to the coil, if it overshot.”

“Right. Only it don’t happen, because the last spark is through the coil before the needle ever gets there. Are you finished, Patera? I’ve told you just about everything I know.”

“Yes, and the entire meal was delightful. Superb, in fact. I’m extremely grateful to you, Auk. However, I do have one more question before we go, though no doubt it will seem a very silly one to you. Why is your needler so much bigger than this one? What advantages are secured by the increase in size?”

Auk weighed his weapon in his hand before thrusting it away. “Well, Patera, for one thing mine holds a lot more needles. Full up, there’s a hundred and twenty-five. I’d say your little one there most likely only holds fifty or sixty. Mine are longer, too, which is why I can’t give you some of mine to use in yours. Longer needles mean a wider cut when they slew around, and a wider cut takes your cull out of the fight quicker. My barrel’s longer, too, and the needles are a hair thicker. All that gives ’em half a dog’s cheek more speed, so they’ll go in deeper.”

“I understand.” Silk had drawn back the loading knob of Hyacinth’s needler and was peering at the rather simple-looking mechanism revealed by the open breech.

“A needler like yours is all right inside a house or a place like this, but outside you’d better be up close before you pull the trigger. If you’re not, your needle’s going to start slewing around in the air before it ever gets to your cull, and once it starts doing that, don’t even Pas’s sprats—your pardon, Patera—know where it’s going to end up.”

Looking thoughtful, Silk got out one of Blood’s cards. “If you would allow me, Auk. I’m heavily indebted to you.”

“I already paid, Patera.” Auk rose, pushing back his chair until it thumped the wall. “Some other time, maybe.” He grinned. “Now then. You remember I said don’t even the gods know where your needles are going?”

“Of course.” Silk rose as well, finding his ankle less painful than he had anticipated.

“Well, maybe they don’t. But I do, and I’ll tell you soon as we get outside. I know where you and me are going to go, too.”

“I should return to my manteion.” By an effort of will, Silk was able to walk almost normally.

“This won’t take more than a couple hours, and I got two or three surprises I want to show you.”

The first was a litter for one, with a pair of bearers. Silk climbed into it with some trepidation, wondering whether there would be any such conveyance to carry him to the manse when the business of the evening was done. The shade had risen until no sliver of gold remained, and a dulcet breeze whispered soothingly that the dust and heat of vanquished day had been but empty lies. It fanned Silk’s flushed cheeks, and the sensual pleasure it gave him told him he had drunk one goblet of wine too many. Sadly, he resolved to watch himself more strictly in the future.

Auk strode along beside the litter, his grin flashing in the semidarkness. Silk felt something small, squarish, and heavy thrust into his hand.

“What we was talking about, Patera. Put ’em in your pocket.”

By that time, Silk’s fingers had told him that it was a paper-wrapped packet, tightly tied with string. “How…?”