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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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"
You
only
get
to
be
my
age
by
assuming
the
worst
.
"
Shadow
smiled
.
"
And
how
old
would
that
be
?
"
"
Old
as
my
tongue
,
"
said
Wednesday
.
"
And
a
few
months
older
than
my
teeth
.
"
"
You
play
your
cards
so
close
to
your
chest
,
"
said
Shadow
,
"
that
I
’
m
not
even
sure
that
they
’
re
really
cards
at
all
.
"
Wednesday
only
grunted
.
Each
hill
they
came
to
was
harder
to
climb
.
Shadow
began
to
feel
headachy
.
There
was
a
pounding
quality
to
the
starlight
,
something
that
resonated
with
the
pulse
in
his
temples
and
his
chest
.
At
the
bottom
of
the
next
hill
he
stumbled
,
opened
his
mouth
to
say
something
and
,
without
warning
,
he
vomited
.
Wednesday
reached
into
an
inside
pocket
,
and
produced
a
small
hip
flask
.
"
Take
a
sip
of
this
,
"
he
said
.
"
Only
a
sip
.
"
The
liquid
was
pungent
,
and
it
evaporated
in
his
mouth
like
a
good
brandy
,
although
it
did
not
taste
like
alcohol
.
Wednesday
took
the
flask
away
,
and
pocketed
it
.
"
It
’
s
not
good
for
the
audience
to
find
themselves
walking
about
backstage
.
That
’
s
why
you
’
re
feeling
sick
.
We
need
to
hurry
to
get
you
out
of
here
.
"
They
walked
faster
—
Wednesday
at
a
solid
trudge
,
Shadow
stumbling
from
time
to
time
,
but
feeling
better
for
the
drink
,
which
left
his
mouth
tasting
of
orange
peel
,
of
rosemary
oil
and
peppermint
and
cloves
.
