"David Drake - Belisarius 3 - Destiny's Shield" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

never thought of that, when I offered to give her the jewel."
"Seventeen years," stated Justinian. His voice was very bleak. "She will die,
then, from cancer."
The Macedonian cleared his throat. "If we succeed in defeating the Malwa -- "
Justinian waved him off. "That's irrelevant, Michael. Whatever other evils the
Malwa will bring, they are not responsible for cancer. And don't forget -- the
vision which the jewel gave me was of the future that would have been. The
future where the Malwa were never elevated to world mastery by this demonic
power called Link. The future where I remained emperor, and we reconquered the
western Mediterranean."
He fell silent, head bowed. "I am right, Belisarius, am I not?"
Belisarius hesitated. He cast his thoughts toward Aide.
He is right, came the reply. Aide forestalled the next question:
And there is no cure for cancer. Not, at least, anything that will be within
your capability for many, many years. Centuries.
Belisarius took a deep breath.
"Yes, Justinian. You are right. Regardless of what else happens, Theodora will
die of cancer in seventeen years."
The former emperor sighed. "They burned out my tear ducts, along with my eyes.
I damn the traitors for that, sometimes, even more than my lost vision."
Shaking himself, Justinian rose to his feet and began pacing about the room.
The plethora of statuary which had once adorned his room was gone, now.
Theodora had ordered them removed, during Justinian's convalescence, worried
that her blind husband might stumble and fall.
That fear had been quickly allayed. Watching the former Emperor maneuver
through the obstacles littering the floor, Belisarius was struck again by the
man's uncanny intelligence. Justinian seemed to know, by sheer memory, where
every one of those potential obstructions lay, and he avoided them unerringly.
But the obstacles were no longer statuary. Justinian had no use, any longer,
for such visual ornament. Instead, he had filled his room with the objects of
his oldest and favorite hobby -- gadgets. Half the floor seemed to be covered
by odd contrivances and weird contraptions. Justinian even claimed that his
blindness was an asset, in this regard, since it forced him to master the
inner logic of his devices. Nor could Belisarius deny the claim. The general
stared at one of the larger mechanisms in the room, standing in a corner. The
device was quiescent, at the moment. But he had seen it work. Justinian had
designed the thing based on Belisarius' own description of a vision given to
him by Aide.
The first true steam engine ever built in Rome -- or anywhere in the world, so
far as he knew. He had not seen its like even during his long visit to Malwa
India. The thing itself was not much more than a toy, but it was the model for
the first locomotive which was already being planned. The day would come when
Belisarius would be able to shuttle his troops from one campaign to another in
the same way he had seen Aide describe in visions. Visions of a terrible
carnage in the future which would be called the American Civil War.
A voice drew him back to the present.
"Seventeen years," mused Justinian sadly. "Whereas I, according to the jewel,
will live to a ripe old age." Pain came to his ravaged face. "I had always
hoped she might outlive me," he whispered. Justinian squared his shoulders.
"So be it. I will give her seventeen good years. The best I can manage."