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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 4/641
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Lyesmith
had
loaned
Shadow
a
battered
paperback
copy
of
Herodotus
’
s
Histories
several
months
earlier
.
"
It
’
s
not
boring
.
It
’
s
cool
,
"
he
said
,
when
Shadow
protested
that
he
didn
’
t
read
books
.
"
Read
it
first
,
then
tell
me
it
’
s
cool
.
"
Shadow
had
made
a
face
,
but
he
had
started
to
read
,
and
had
found
himself
hooked
against
his
will
.
"
Greeks
,
"
said
the
Iceman
,
with
disgust
.
"
And
it
ain
’
t
true
what
they
say
about
them
,
neither
.
I
tried
giving
it
to
my
girlfriend
in
the
ass
,
she
almost
clawed
my
eyes
out
.
"
Lyesmith
was
transferred
one
day
,
without
warning
.
He
left
Shadow
his
copy
of
Herodotus
.
There
was
a
nickel
hidden
in
the
pages
.
Coins
were
contraband
:
you
can
sharpen
the
edges
against
a
stone
,
slice
open
someone
’
s
face
in
a
fight
.
Shadow
didn
’
t
want
a
weapon
;
Shadow
just
wanted
something
to
do
with
his
hands
.
Shadow
was
not
superstitious
.
He
did
not
believe
in
anything
he
could
not
see
.
Still
,
he
could
feel
disaster
hovering
above
the
prison
in
those
final
weeks
,
just
as
he
had
felt
it
in
the
days
before
the
robbery
.
There
was
a
hollowness
in
the
pit
of
his
stomach
that
he
told
himself
was
simply
a
fear
of
going
back
to
the
world
on
the
outside
.
But
he
could
not
be
sure
.
He
was
more
paranoid
than
usual
,
and
in
prison
usual
is
very
,
and
is
a
survival
skill
.
Shadow
became
more
quiet
,
more
shadowy
,
than
ever
.
He
found
himself
watching
the
body
language
of
the
guards
,
of
the
other
inmates
,
searching
for
a
clue
to
the
bad
thing
that
was
going
to
happen
,
as
he
was
certain
that
it
would
.
A
month
before
he
was
due
to
be
released
.
Shadow
sat
in
a
chilly
office
,
facing
a
short
man
with
a
port
-
wine
birthmark
on
his
forehead
.
They
sat
across
a
desk
from
each
other
;
the
man
had
Shadow
’
s
file
open
in
front
of
him
,
and
was
holding
a
ballpoint
pen
.
The
end
of
the
pen
was
badly
chewed
.
"
You
cold
,
Shadow
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Shadow
.
"
A
little
.
"
The
man
shrugged
.
"
That
’
s
the
system
,
"
he
said
.
"
Furnaces
don
’
t
go
on
until
December
the
first
.
Then
they
go
off
March
the
first
.
I
don
’
t
make
the
rules
.
"
He
ran
his
forefinger
down
the
sheet
of
paper
stapled
to
the
inside
left
of
the
folder
.
"
You
’
re
thirty
-
two
years
old
?
"
