Читать онлайн «Arcadia»
Автор Йен Пирс
Annotation
Three interlocking worlds. Four people looking for answers. But who controls the future — or the past?
In the basement of a professor’s house in 1960s Oxford, fifteen-year-old Rosie goes in search of a missing cat — and instead finds herself in a different world.
Anterwold is a sun-drenched land of storytellers, prophecies and ritual. But is this world real — and what happens if she decides to stay?
Meanwhile, in a sterile laboratory, a rebellious scientist is trying to prove that time does not even exist — with potentially devastating consequences.
Iain Pears
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Acknowledgements
Iain Pears
Arcadia
To Ruth, as ever.
1
Imagine a landscape. Bathed in sunshine, sweet-smelling from the gentle shower that fell overnight then stopped as dawn broke. A dense grove of holm oak stands at the foot of a hill, damp with the drops of soft-sounding water which leave the ground moist but firm underfoot. In the distance a sliver of water, bright and glittering, reflects the brightness of the sky. The wide river is of a blue so translucent that it is almost indistinguishable from the heavens above. Only the vegetation marks the division between the fields and the range of low-lying hills beyond. It is warm now, but will be hot later on; there is not a cloud to be seen. Down by the river, there are the harvesters with their pitchforks, fanning out across the fields, some already at work.
A young boy looks down on them. They are far away, and he sees that they are talking quietly and seriously, eager to get on with a day’s work. Over his shoulder is an empty leather bag; he is going for the water which the men will soon need when the sun rises higher.
The stream is cool from the hills beyond, which mark the end of their world. He does not know what lies outside it. His entire universe is here, the few villages with their rivalries, the seasonal round of crops, animals and festivities.He is about to leave it for ever.
His name is Jay. He is eleven years old and is an entirely normal boy apart from his tendency to bother people with questions. Why are you doing this? What is that for? What are these? His insatiable curiosity — considered unseemly by his elders and tiresome by those of his own age — means that he has few friends but, on the whole, he is, as his mother continually tells people, no trouble really.
Today the boy’s mind is empty. It is too glorious, and he knows that the warmth on his back and the brilliant sunshine will not last much longer. Already the birds are gathering, preparing for their departure; he does not want to waste a moment in thought. He reaches the stream and kneels down to bathe, feeling the icy cold on his face and his neck, washing away the sweat. Then he bends over and drinks, cupping the water in his hands and slurping it up.
He sits back on his haunches, staring at the water as it reflects the sun in its path, listening to the birds and the gentle sound of the breeze in the trees on the other side of the stream. Then he hears an odd noise, low, even almost melodic. It stops, and Jay shakes his head, then unslings the leather bag to begin filling it.
