"Dave Duncan - The Seventh Sword - 1 - The Reluctant Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

Around him the morning dedications were ending. Already the first of the day's many pilgrims were being led in to make their offerings and
supplications. Money was clinking into the bowls; prayers being mumbled under the quiet prompting of priests. He would begin, Honakura
decided, by guiding a few pilgrims himself. It was a worthy service to the Most Holy; it was a task he enjoyed; it was a good example for the
juniors. He lowered his hands and glanced around in the hope that there might be someone handy to help him rise-not the easiest of movements for


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 The Reluctant Swordsman

him now.


At once a brown robe was at his side and strong hands assisted him. With a quiet mutter of thanks, Honakura reached his feet. He was about to turn
away when the man spoke.


"I am Jannarlu, priest of the third rank..." He was making the salute to a superior, words and hand gestures and bowings. For a moment Honakura
reacted with shock and disapproval. Surely this young man did not think that so trifling a service could justify him in forcing himself on a lord of
the Seventh? This place, before the dais and the idol, was the holy of holies, and while there was no law against conversation or formal saluting
here, custom forbade it. Then he recalled this Jannarlu. He was old Hangafau's grandson, said to have promise. He must know better, and therefore
must have good reason for the impropriety.


So Honakura waited until the salute was completed and then made the ritual response: "I am Honakura, priest of the seventh rank..." One of
Jannarlu's facemarks was still slightly inflamed, so he was a very new Third. He was tall-much taller than the diminutive Honakura-with a bony,
ungainly presence and a hook nose. He seemed absurdly young, but then they all did these days.


Close by, an ancient crone dropped a gold in the bowl and began entreating the Goddess to cure the agony in her bowels. Beyond her a young
couple were praying that She not send them any more children, for a few years at least.


As soon as Honakura had finished, the words spurted from Jannarlu: "My lord, there is a swordsman... a Seventh!"


She had answered!


"You left him out there?" Honakura demanded furiously, keeping his voice down with difficulty, struggling not to show emotion to anyone who
might be watching.


The Third flinched, but nodded. "He is a Nameless One, my lord."


Honakura hissed in astonishment. Incredible! With forehead covered and wearing only black, like a beggar, anyone could become a Nameless One.
By law, such persons could bear no goods and must be on the service of the Goddess. Many regarded it as a special penance, so the practice was
not uncommon among pilgrims coming to the temple. But for a lord of the Seventh to reduce his standing in such a way was highly unusual. For a
swordsman of any rank it was almost unthinkable. For a swordsman of the seventh rank... incredible!