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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 52/82
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"
Oy
,
"
hissed
the
man
.
Richard
looked
back
at
him
.
He
was
beckoning
.
"
Come
on
,
down
here
,
quickly
man
.
"
The
man
hurried
down
some
steps
on
the
derelict
houses
at
the
side
of
the
road
—
garbage
-
strewn
steps
,
leading
down
to
abandoned
basement
apartments
.
Richard
stumbled
after
him
.
At
the
bottom
of
the
steps
was
a
door
,
which
the
man
pushed
open
.
He
waited
for
Richard
to
go
through
,
and
shut
the
door
behind
them
.
Through
the
door
,
they
were
in
darkness
.
There
was
a
scratch
,
and
the
noise
of
a
match
flaring
into
life
:
the
man
touched
the
match
to
the
wick
of
an
old
railwayman
’
s
lamp
,
which
caught
,
casting
slightly
less
light
than
the
match
had
,
and
they
walked
together
through
a
dark
place
.
It
smelled
musty
,
of
damp
and
old
brick
,
of
rot
and
the
dark
.
"
Where
are
we
?
"
Richard
whispered
.
His
guide
shushed
him
to
silence
.
They
reached
another
door
set
in
a
wall
.
The
man
rapped
on
it
rhythmically
.
There
was
a
pause
,
and
then
the
door
swung
open
.
For
a
moment
,
Richard
was
blinded
by
the
sudden
light
.
He
was
standing
in
a
huge
,
vaulted
room
,
an
underground
hall
,
filled
with
firelight
and
smoke
.
Small
fires
burned
around
the
room
.
Shadowy
people
stood
by
the
flames
,
roasting
small
animals
on
spits
.
People
scurried
from
fire
to
fire
.
It
reminded
him
of
Hell
—
or
rather
,
the
way
that
he
had
thought
of
Hell
,
as
a
schoolboy
.
The
smoke
irritated
his
lungs
,
and
he
coughed
.
A
hundred
eyes
turned
,
then
,
and
stared
at
him
:
a
hundred
eyes
,
unblinking
and
unfriendly
.
A
man
scuttled
toward
them
.
He
had
long
hair
,
a
patchy
brown
beard
,
and
his
ragged
clothes
were
trimmed
with
fur
—
orange
-
and
-
white
-
and
-
black
fur
,
like
the
coat
of
a
calico
cat
.
He
would
have
been
taller
than
Richard
,
but
he
walked
with
a
pronounced
stoop
,
his
hands
held
up
at
his
chest
,
fingers
pressed
together
.
"
What
?
What
is
it
?
What
is
this
?
"
he
asked
Richard
’
s
guide
.
"
Who
’
ve
you
brought
us
,
Iliaster
?
Talk
-
talk
-
talk
.
"
"
He
’
s
from
the
Upside
,
"
said
the
guide
.
(
Iliaster
?
thought
Richard
.
)
"
Was
asking
about
the
Lady
Door
.
And
the
Floating
Market
.
Brought
him
to
you
,
Lord
Rat
-
speaker
.
Figured
you
’
d
know
what
to
do
with
him
.
"
There
were
now
more
than
a
dozen
of
the
fur
-
trimmed
people
standing
around
them
,
women
and
men
,
and
even
a
few
children
.
They
moved
in
scurries
:
moments
of
stillness
,
followed
by
hasty
dashes
toward
Richard
.
The
Lord
Rat
-
speaker
reached
inside
his
fur
-
trimmed
rags
and
pulled
out
a
wicked
-
looking
sliver
of
glass
,
about
eight
inches
long
.
Some
poorly
cured
fur
had
been
tied
around
the
bottom
half
of
it
to
form
an
improvised
grip
.
Firelight
glinted
from
the
glass
blade
.
The
Lord
Rat
-
speaker
put
the
shard
to
Richard
’
s
throat
.
"
Oh
yes
.
Yes
-
yes
-
yes
,
"
he
cluttered
,
excitedly
.
"
I
know
exactly
what
to
do
with
him
.
"
Mr
.
Croup
and
Mr
.
Vandemar
had
set
up
their
home
in
the
cellar
of
a
Victorian
hospital
,
closed
down
ten
years
earlier
because
of
National
Health
Service
budget
cutbacks
.
The
property
developers
,
who
had
announced
their
intention
of
turning
the
hospital
into
an
unparalleled
block
of
unique
luxury
-
living
accommodations
,
had
faded
away
as
soon
as
the
hospital
had
been
closed
,
and
so
it
stood
there
,
year
after
year
,
gray
and
empty
and
unwanted
,
its
windows
boarded
up
,
its
doors
padlocked
shut
.
The
roof
was
rotten
,
and
rain
dripped
through
the
empty
hospital
’
s
interior
,
spreading
damp
and
decay
through
the
building
.
The
hospital
was
ranged
around
a
central
well
,
which
let
in
a
certain
amount
of
gray
and
unfriendly
light
.
The
basement
world
beneath
the
empty
hospital
wards
comprised
more
than
a
hundred
tiny
rooms
,
some
of
them
empty
,
others
containing
abandoned
hospital
supplies
.
One
room
held
a
squat
,
giant
metal
furnace
,
while
the
next
room
housed
the
blocked
and
waterless
toilets
and
showers
.
Most
of
the
basement
floors
were
covered
with
a
thin
layer
of
oily
rainwater
,
which
reflected
the
darkness
and
the
decay
back
toward
the
rotting
ceilings
.
