"Brust,.Steven.-.To.Reign.In.Hell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brust Steven)

Prologue

I was set up everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was.

Before the mountains were settled, before the hills, was I brought
forth.

ЧProverbs, 8:23-24

Snow, tenderly caught by eddying breezes, swirled and spun in to
and out of bright, lustrous shapes that gleamed against the
emerald-blazoned black drape of sky and sparkled there for a
moment, hanging, before settling gently to the soft, green-tufted
plain with all the sickly sweetness of an over-written sentence.

The Regent of the South looked upon this white-on-black-over-
green perfection and he saw that it was revolting. His eyes, a green
that was positively startling, narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

The being next to him took the shape of an animal that would
someday be called a golden retriever. It shook its head and
snorted, since barking was yet a few millennia away.

"My gorge rises to think on't," said the dog.

The Regent nodded without speaking.

The other continued, "I mind a time when thou didst delight to see
decadence."

"I mind a time when there were things other than decadence to
compare it to."

"Verily," the dog admitted. "But think'st thou this can last forever?"

The Regent shrugged. "No, I know it won't. The Wave is still
recent; its effects linger. Soon enough, form will be form again,
and jokes like this will be too difficult to be worth the bother. But it
sickens me."

"Whose working is this then, milord?" the dog asked.

"It doesn't matter," said the Regent. "One of our arch-brethren,
certainly. Maybe it was whoever put Marfiel into a six-day sleep so
she missed the harvest. It's the same stupid sense of humor."

"Certes thou art aware of that thou hast earned: to relax thy
vigilance and enjoy this time, as thy archbrethren do."