Burning Bright полностью

I didn’t choose you, unfortunately, Lioe thought, and Africa’s pretty conventional. She mumbled something in answer, and looked around for Aliar Gueremei. The older woman was standing with a group of Gamers on the far side of the room. Lioe lifted a hand to catch her eye, and started toward her, but Gueremei waved her away, her expression at once amused and approving. Lioe waved back, and turned toward the door. Roscha followed her from the room.

The hallways were less crowded than they had been, but players still clustered in the courtyard, busy at the food bars and in the lobby. A few of them called congratulations; Lioe nodded back, called polite responses, and felt the sense of satisfaction growing in her. She had done well, and she deserved the praise. Outside Shadows, the street was quiet, only dimly lit by the cool spheres at each intersection, and Lioe checked in spite of herself. The food shop seemed all but deserted, the orange light behind its open door like the glow of a banked fire. Music no longer spilled into the street, and even the bouncers had disappeared.

“The club’s down toward the Straight,” Roscha said, and Lioe jumped a little.

“How are the streets, this late?” she asked.

Roscha shrugged, looking rather surprised at the question. “Not bad—not in this quarter, anyway.” She tossed her head to send her thick hair tumbling back over her shoulders. “Come Storm, of course, everybody will be out all night, but I don’t know if that makes you any safer.”

True enough, Lioe thought, true on any planet. But I wonder if your definition of “safe” matches mine. “That’s the Carnival, right?” Keep her talking, and see what it is she wants. Since I think I could want her too.

“Yeah. The winds have already shifted, you can feel it, but the weather people aren’t predicting anything yet. There’ll be fireworks tomorrow night—the Syncretist Congregations are sponsoring that—and a big display on Storm One, that’s day after tomorrow. There’s a lot going on—people have scheduled stuff for the whole three weeks.”

There was an amusement in her voice that Lioe couldn’t translate. Was it because the city had scheduled events for the whole period, as though there was a chance that nothing would happen? Or was it just that she thought Storm was funny? Vaguely, she remembered reading stories of floods and damage, docks and whole waterfront neighborhoods washed away. Burning Bright City nestled inside the circling islands as if it lay in the bottom of a bowl; let a storm into that confined space, and wind and water would wreak havoc. She shivered, thinking of Callixte’s summer storms, the blue-black clouds marching along the horizon, lightning striking fires to scour the central plains. She couldn’t quite imagine that force unleashed on a city—a crowded city—or with the force of the sea behind it. Maybe all you can do is laugh.

“The Syndics parade is tomorrow night,” Roscha went on, and Lioe dragged her attention back to the conversation. “That’s on the Water.”

“Parade?” Lioe asked.

“Yeah. They run barges—the big, flat-bodied ones, set up pageants on them.” She grinned again, a look of pure mischief, and Lioe wondered just how young she was. “They do all the fittings outside of Mainwarden Island—that’s the big island, sits astride the southern end of the Water?”

Lioe nodded.

“They try to keep the presentations a big secret,” Roscha said. “When I was a kid, we used to sneak out there, try and see them ahead of time. It’s Beauties and Beasts this year—that’s the theme. You should get yourself a costume, if you go.”

“I’m not much one for dressing up,” Lioe said doubtfully, and Roscha sounded a little subdued when she answered.

“I could recommend a good costumer.”

Lioe looked sideways at her, and Roscha looked away, as though she’d said something wrong. “Thanks,” Lioe said, but the other didn’t answer. Lioe sighed slightly. She wasn’t much one for costume, had never really learned how to play those games: Carnival wasn’t part of Callixte’s heritage, and Foster Services hadn’t wanted to offend the Neo-pagans by encouraging its client-children to mask at Samhain.