"Bradley,.Marion.Zimmer.-.Darkover.-.Clingfire.1.-.Fall.Of.Neskaya.(.With.Deborah.J.Ross)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

"What is she like? Is she pretty?" Then, remembering his responsibilities as eldest son and heir, Belisar drew himself up. He bowed to Rumail, the precise inclination for one older and respected, but inferior in rank.
"Greetings, Uncle. How went your mission?"
"Everyone assumed the best candidate would be the oldest daughter," Rumail said as they proceeded down the corridor. "But Beltran was obliging enough to sire three of them so that we might continue our other objectives. The youngest one has latent potential of the qualities we are searching for in her progeny. I scanned her right down to the genetic level, despite her considerable resistance. In the end, I believe, she will follow her father's wishes. She stood obediently enough for the handfasting. The older daughter, a

conventionally boring twit of a girl, will see to it that she's schooled as befits a Queen."
"Schooled? How-how old is she?" Belisar asked, struggling not to frown.
"Eight or nine, I think."
Belisar looked horrified. "She's still a baby!"
"So, boy!" Laughing heartily, Damian clapped Belisar between the shoulder blades. "You'll have to wait to bed your bride."
"Father-"
"Oh, but it's only your bride you must wait for!" Damian said. "She'll expect a husband this much older to be experienced, won't she?"
"Father!"
"Leave the boy his dignity," Rumail said. In the Towers, a boy Belisar's age would have had several lovers, although not when actively working in a circle. Both the sexual bonding and the periods of celibacy due to intense laran work were considered natural and treated with respect, never this coarse teasing.
"There is more news," Rumail went on.
They reached the private quarters of the royal family. "Come, let's go within," Damian said. "You, too, Belisar. Since you're to marry for a political alliance, you must learn statecraft."
Once inside, Damian dismissed the young page and ordered the guards a distance from the door, so they could speak without being overheard.
Unlike the throne chamber, Damian's sitting room was richly appointed with rugs and tapestries of gemstone hues, cushioned chairs, and footstools. The fireplace mantel, sea marble shipped all the way from Temora, glowed like living pearl in the light of the tiny summer fire. On the low table of ancient wood, so polished with age as to look black, a

bowl of blown glass held freshly shelled nuts and candied sugarplums.
Damian lounged in the largest of the chairs and reached for a handful of nuts. Belisar also sat, but on the edge of his seat.
"I went to Verdanta for a marriage contract, as you know, but there I found an even greater treasure. One of the boys has extraordinary laran, only now developing. I convinced the father to let me test him, using the excuse of threshold sickness, which indeed he has, and severely enough to indicate the magnitude of his awakening talent. While I was testing him, while his mind was open to mine ... do you remember our discussion of... other uses of the family Gift?"
Damian sat up. Nuts fell unheeded to the carpet in the moment of silence that followed. His eyes flickered to his son's face, to the questions there.
"You have not told him, then?" Rumail asked. They had agreed the boy must not be kept in ignorance. But Damian had his own ideas of the proper timing.
"But I shall." Damian turned to his son. "What your uncle means is the very special type of laran which only we Deslucidos possess. Some of us, anyway. I have only a trace of it, and Rumail by far the greater portion. The gods certainly made up for our unequal births."
At Damian's laughter, Belisar smiled politely. Rumail, who was years beyond allowing himself to react to such casual barbs, noticed how the boy's eyes remained alert, probing.
Belisar said, with unexpected formality, "You have told me, Uncle, that my own laran is recessive, that my sons may have the use of theirs, but not me. And everyone knows you are a powerful laranzu. The Deslucido family Gift is ..." he hesitated, "... something different from that. Am I to know

in what way and how it can serve the cause of unifying Darkover?"
"Ordinary laran is useful within its limits," Damian said temperately. "Good for making clingfire to wage wars or healing the wounds those wars inevitably produce. The minds of weak, ordinary men can be made to see things which live only in their nightmares. Or their nightmares can be coaxed into sweeter dreams. But never before in the history of the world have we been able to free men's minds from misinformation and prejudice."
"Free them? How?"
Rumail stirred, uneasy. Damian tended to get carried away with his own idealistic speeches, forgetting that power needed no justification except itself. Men did not need to understand in order to believe. In fact, talk too often delayed the actions necessary for the common good. It was time to take control of the conversation. "You have seen truth-spell?"
Belisar had been present at the surrender of Linn, when a leronis, Linn's own, was brought to invoke the blue light which glowed steadily on the face of each speaker only in the presence of truth. In its aura, the Lord of Linn and his vassals swore fealty to Ambervale, and King Damian in his turn promised they would never be forced to wage war against their kin in Acosta. There was no surer bond than an oath made under truthspell.
"Yes," Belisar said slowly, "it is the reason one man can trust another's sworn word and the only sure way of ascertaining the facts in a dispute. Otherwise, a man could hold hidden loyalties, secretly change allegiances, say one thing and mean another."
"What if..." Rumail said, "what if a vassal truly believed whatever served his lord, believed it so fervently that not even truthspell could tell the difference? What if a king

need not be bound by other men's literal truths, but only the necessities of a higher calling?"
Belisar's eyes widened as he glanced from father to uncle and back again. Damian watched his heir work through Ru-mail's puzzle. "You have found some way to defeat truth-spell?"
"Not defeat it," Rumail said, "for truth is hardly an enemy to be defeated. We expand the definition to include a greater truth, a deeper loyalty. This is the special Deslucido Gift."
"And I, do I have this ability also?" The boy frowned, clearly searching his memory for a time when he had lied over some childish prank and not been found out.
"No, son," Damian said. "And neither do I. You and I are like a lock, useless in itself, but Rumail there, he holds the key. He can reach into our minds and release that Gift. And he has done so to me upon a number of occasions. The effect is specific and limited in time."
"You ... lied under truthspell?"
Anger flashed across Damian's eyes, but he continued patiently, taking no insult. "You must understand that the result is not falsehood, not in the sense most men believe it, any more than truth is the mere sterile recitation of facts. Consider this: Is it a truly good thing to reveal a truth which will break apart a kingdom or send a decent man to his death?"
Belisar looked to Rumail. Blood drained from his face, leaving only the reflected color of the summer fire washing over ashen cheeks. "But if men cannot believe what is spoken in truthspell, what will they believe? Will not all treaties be at risk if this is ever known?"
Damian raised one eyebrow. "Then we must make certain that no foolish rumors are ever spread. Gossip can destroy the noblest cause and ordinary men are easily led

astray by their own fears. They require the guidance of their betters."
Belisar nodded. The normal color quickly returned to his face; he recovered fast. The lad was sharp, Rumail thought, if a trace arrogant.
"Sometimes," Rumail added, "it is necessary to lance a wound in order for it to heal cleanly, or, to use gardening terms, to cut out the rotten growth and plant anew."
"I understand why you waited until now to tell me," Belisar told Damian. "And I will never betray your trust. The gods have truly blessed us with this Gift. We can remake the face of Darkover! Of course, we must follow different laws than other people, for we serve a more noble cause. But what are the other uses Uncle Rumail referred to?"
"Rumail and I have studied the special Gifts which run in our family," Damian went on. "We have often discussed whether this same technique-the strengthening of belief in a man's mind so that it becomes, for all purposes, literal truth-might not be applied in some other way."