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- Стр. 159/357
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The
point
is
that
both
realities
were
true
.
The
sort
of
historical
event
horizon
was
currently
about
twenty
miles
away
from
the
city
,
and
wasn
’
t
yet
very
noticeable
.
That
’
s
because
the
–
well
,
call
it
the
difference
in
historical
pressures
–
wasn
’
t
yet
very
great
.
But
it
was
growing
.
Out
in
the
damp
cabbage
fields
there
was
a
shimmer
in
the
air
and
a
faint
sizzle
,
like
frying
grasshoppers
.
People
don
’
t
alter
history
any
more
than
birds
alter
the
sky
,
they
just
make
brief
patterns
in
it
.
Inch
by
inch
,
implacable
as
a
glacier
and
far
colder
,
the
real
reality
was
grinding
back
towards
Sto
Lat
.
Mort
was
the
first
person
to
notice
.
It
had
been
a
long
afternoon
.
The
mountaineer
had
held
on
to
his
icy
handhold
until
the
last
moment
and
the
executee
had
called
Mort
a
lackey
of
the
monarchist
state
.
Only
the
old
lady
of
103
,
who
had
gone
to
her
reward
surrounded
by
her
sorrowing
relatives
,
had
smiled
at
him
and
said
he
was
looking
a
little
pale
.
The
Disc
sun
was
close
to
the
horizon
by
the
time
Binky
cantered
wearily
through
the
skies
over
Sto
Lat
,
and
Mort
looked
down
and
saw
the
borderland
of
reality
.
It
curved
away
below
him
,
a
crescent
of
faint
silver
mist
.
He
didn
’
t
know
what
it
was
,
but
he
had
a
nasty
foreboding
that
it
had
something
to
do
with
him
.
He
reined
in
the
horse
and
allowed
him
to
trot
gently
towards
the
ground
,
touching
down
a
few
yards
behind
the
wall
of
iridescent
air
.
It
was
moving
at
something
less
than
walking
pace
,
hissing
gently
as
it
drifted
ghost
-
like
across
the
stark
damp
cabbage
fields
and
frozen
drainage
ditches
.
It
was
a
cold
night
,
the
type
of
night
when
frost
and
fog
fight
for
domination
and
every
sound
is
muffled
.
Binky
’
s
breath
made
fountains
of
cloud
in
the
still
air
.
He
whinnied
gently
,
almost
apologetically
,
and
pawed
at
the
ground
.
Mort
slid
out
of
the
saddle
and
crept
up
to
the
interface
.
It
crackled
softly
.
