"Baker,_Kage_-_Noble_Mold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baker Kage)

* * * *
Next day, same hour, the brothers came with hopeful smiles and a big muddy mess of a vine trailing out of their cart. Such relief! Such heartfelt praise and thanks the kindly friar showered on his obedient sons in Christ! Mendoza heard their arrival and came tearing out into the courtyard, only to pull up short with an expression of baffled rage.
_THAT'S NOT THE VINE! _she transmitted, with such intensity I thought for a second we were having an earthquake.
"...And yet, my sons, I am afraid we have not understood each other once again," I went on wearily. "It appears that, although you have brought us _a_ whole vine, you have not brought _the_ particular vine that was specifically asked for by my cousin."
"We are so sorry," replied Emidio, averting his eyes from Mendoza. "How stupid we were! But, Father, this is a very good vine. It's in much better condition than the other one and bears much prettier grapes. Also, it was very difficult to dig it all up and we have brought it a long way. Maybe the lady will be satisfied with this vine instead?"
Mendoza was shaking her head, not trusting herself to speak, although the air around her was wavering like a mirage. Hastily I said:
"My dearest sons, I am sure it is an excellent vine, and we would not take it from your family. You must understand that it is the _other_ vine we want, the very one you brought cuttings from yesterday. That vine and no other, and all of that vine. Now, you have clearly worked very hard and in good faith, so I will certainly send you home with your other pig, but you must come back tomorrow with the right vine."
The brothers looked at each other and I picked up a flash of despair from them, and some weird kind of fear too. "Yes, little Father," they replied.
* * * *
But on the next day they didn't come at all.
Mendoza paced the arcade until nine in the evening, alarming the other friars. Finally I went out to her and braced myself for the blast.
"You know, you lost yourself two perfectly good pigs," she informed me through gritted teeth. "Damned lying Indians."
I shook my head. "Something's wrong here, Mendoza."
"You bet something's wrong! You've got a three-day delay on a Priority Gold."
"But there's some reason we're not getting. Something is missing from this picture..."
"We never should have tried to bargain with them, you know that? They offered it as a gift in the first place. We should have just taken it. Now they know it's really worth something! I'll go up there with a spade and dig the damned vine up myself, if I have to."
"No! You can't do that, not now. They'll know who took it, don't you see?"
"One more crime against the helpless Indians laid at the door of Spain. As if it mattered any more!" Mendoza turned on her heel to stare at me. Down at the other end of the arcade one of my brother friars put his head out in discreet inquiry.
_It does matter! _ I dropped to a subvocal hiss._ It matters to them and it matters to me! I call them my beloved sons, but they know I've got the power to go up there and confiscate anything they have on any excuse at all because that's how it's always been done! Only I _don't_. They know Father Rubio won't do that to them. I've built up a cover identity as a kindly, honorable guy because I've got to live with these people for the next thirty years! You'll get your damn specimen and go away again into the sagebrush, but I've got a character to maintain!_
_My God,_ she sneered, _He wants his little Indians to love him._
_Company policy, baby. It's easier to deal with mortals when they trust you. Something you _used_ to understand. So just you try screwing with my cover identity, baby, just you try it and see what happens._
She widened her eyes at that, too furious for words, and I saw her knuckles go white; little chips of whitewash began falling from the walls. We both looked up at them and cooled down in a hurry.
_Sorry. But I mean what I say, Mendoza_. _We handle this my way._
She threw her hands up in the air. _What are you going to do, then, smart guy? You have to do _something.
* * * *
Day Four of the Priority Gold, and Company Directive 081244-A anxiously inquired why no progress on previous transdepartmental request for facilitation? Situation Report follows, I responded. Please stand by. Then I put on my walking sandals and set off up the canyon alone.
Before I had toiled more than halfway, though, I met Emidio coming in my direction. He didn't try to avoid me, but as he approached he looked down the canyon past me in the direction of the Mission. "Good morning, little Father," he called.
"Good morning, my son."
"Is your cousin lady with you?" He dropped his voice as he drew close.
"No, my son. We are alone."
"I need to speak with you, little father, about the grapevine." He cleared his throat. "I know the lady must be very angry, and I am sorry. I don't mean to make you angry too, little Father, because I know she is your cousin -- "
"I understand, my son, believe me. And I am not angry."
"Well then." He drew a deep breath. "This is the matter. The grapevines do not belong to me, nor to my father. They belong to our grandfather Diego. And he will not let us dig up the vine the lady wants."
"Why will he not?"
"He won't tell us. He just refuses. Don't be stupid, we told him. Father Rubio has been good to us, he has treated us fairly. Look at the fine pigs he has given us, we said. He just sits in the sun and rocks himself, and refuses us. And our grandmother came and touched his feet and cried, though she didn't say anything, but he wouldn't even look at her."
"I see."
"We have said everything we could say to him, but he will not let us dig up that vine. We tried to fool the lady twice by pretending to make mistakes (and that was a sin, little Father, and I'm sorry), but it didn't work. Somehow she knew. Then our grandfather -- " he paused in obvious embarrassment. "I don't know how to say this, little Father -- you know the old people are superstitious and still believe foolish things -- I think he somehow has the idea that your cousin lady is a _nunasis_. Please don't take this the wrong way -- "
"No, no, go on -- "
"We have an old story about a spirit who walks on the mountains and wears a hat like hers, you see, throwing a shadow cold as death. I know it's stupid. Even so, Grandfather won't let us dig up that vine. Now, you might say, our grandfather is only an old man and a little bit crazy now, and we're strong, so he can be put aside as though he were a little baby; but if we did that, we would be breaking the commandment about honoring the old people. It seems to us that would be a worse sin than the white lady not getting what she wanted. What do you think, little Father?"
Boy, oh, boy. "This is very hard, my son," I said, and I meant it. "But you are right."
Emidio studied me in silence for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "Thank you," he said at last. After another pause he added, "Is there anything we can do that will make the lady happy? She'll be angry with you, now."
I found myself laughing. "She will make my life a Purgatory, I can tell you," I said. "But I will offer it up for my sins. Go home, Emidio, and don't worry. Perhaps God will send a miracle."
* * * *
I wasn't laughing when I got back to the Mission, though, and when Mendoza came looking for me she saw my failure right away.
"No dice, huh?" She squinted evilly. "Well. This is no longer a matter of me and my poor little bonus now, Joseph. _The Company wants that vine_. I suggest you think of something fast or there are liable to be some dead Indians around here soon, pardon my indelicate phrasing."
"I'm working on it," I told her.
And I was. I went to the big leatherbound books that held the Mission records. I sat down in a corner of the scriptorium and went over them in minute detail.
1789, here was the baptism of Diego Kasmali, age given as thirty years. 1790, marriage to Maria Concepcion, age not given. 1791 through 1810, a whole string of baptisms of little Kasmalis: Agustin, Xavier, Pablo, Juan Bautista, Maria, Dolores, Guadalupe, Dieguito, Marta, Tomas, Luisa, Bartolomeo. First communion for Xavier Kasmali, 1796. One after the other, a string of little funerals: Agustin age two days, Pablo age three months six days, Juan Bautista age six days, Maria age two years ... too sad to go on down the list, but not unusual. Confirmation for Xavier Kasmali, 1802. Xavier Kasmali married to Juana Catalina of the Dos Pueblos rancheria, age 18 years, 1812. Baptism of Emidio Kasmali, 1813. Baptism of Salvador Kasmali, 1814. Funeral of Juana Catalina, 1814. First Communions, Confirmations, Marriages, Baptisms, Last Rites ... not a sacrament missed. Really good Catholics.
Why, there was the old, old woman, at Mass every single day of the year, rain or shine, though she was propped like a bundle of sticks in the shadows at the back of the church. Maria Concepcion, wife of Diego Kasmali. But Diego never, ever at Mass. Why not? On a desperate hunch I went to my transmitter and typed in a request for something unusual.
The reply came back: _ Query: first please resolution Priority Gold Status?_