"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 1 - Black Sun Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

envelope remained open. He glanced up at Damien, briefly, cold blue eyes
acknowledging the message: She trusts you. And adding his own: I donтАЩt.
Then he removed the commission itself and read.
Power, Damien thought. He radiates power. When he was certain that the
PatriarchтАЩs attention was firmly fixed on the document, he whispered the key to a
Knowing. Softly - very softly - knowing that if he were caught Working the fae at
this time and place, he might well be throwing away everything heтАЩd hoped to
accomplish. But the words, barely spoken, went unheard. The fae gathered
around him, softly, and wove a picture that his mind could interpret. And yes . . .
it was as he had suspected. He wondered if the Patriarch even knew, or if the
man attributed the force of his own presence to mere human concepts, like
charisma. Bearing. Instead of recognizing the truth - which was that his every
thought sent tiny ripples coursing through the fae, altering his environment to
suit his will. A natural, in the vernacular. A born sorcerer, whose chosen
profession forbade him from acknowledging the very source of his authority.
 At last the Patriarch nodded, and with carefully manicured hands he folded
the commission again, sliding it back into its vellum container. тАЬShe thinks highly
of you,тАЭ he said, placing it on the desk beside him: statement of fact, with
neither approval nor disapproval implied. тАЬHe is loyal, she writes, and wholly
dedicated to our mission. You may depend upon his honor, his vigilance, and his
discretion.тАЭ He glared, and the thin mouth tightened. тАЬVery well. I wonтАЩt do you
the dishonor of dissembling, Damien Kilcannon Vryce. Let me tell you just how
welcome you are here - you and your sorcery.тАЭ
Four long steps took him to the nearest window; Damien caught the flash of
jeweled rings as he swung it open, revealing the lights of the city. For a moment
he simply stared at them, as though something in the view would help him
choose his words. тАЬSince my earliest years,тАЭ he said at last, тАЬIтАЩve served this
region. Since that day when I was first old enough to understand just what this
planet was, and what it had done to mankind, IтАЩve devoted myself body and soul
to our salvation. It meant adhering to one god, in a world where hundreds of
would-be deities clamored for worship, promising cheap and easy miracles in
return for minimal offerings. It meant clinging to a Church that still bled from the
memory of its greatest defeat, in an age when triumphant temples rose up like
wheat in springtime. I chose what was clearly the harder path because I believed
in it - believe in it, Reverend Vryce! - and I have never once faltered in that faith.
Or in my belief that such faith is necessary, in order to restore man to his Earth-
born destiny.тАЭ
A cold evening breeze gusted in through the window; the Patriarch turned
his face into it, let the chill wind brush back his hair. тАЬMost difficult of all was
Church custom regarding the fae. Especially in this city, where sorcery is so
cheap that the poor can buy visions of plentiful food more easily than the real
thing . . . and then they die of hunger, Reverend Vryce. Their bodies gutted by
starvation, but a ghastly smile on their faces. Which is why I believe as I do - as
my Church has believed, for nearly a thousand years. We wonтАЩt tame this
tyrannical force by parceling it out to sorcerers, for their paltry spells and their
squalid conjurations. The more we expose it to humankindтАЩs greed, the more it
stinks of our excesses. Gannon saw that very clearly, back in the Revival. He
outlawed private sorcery for that very reason - and I agree with him, heart and
soul. If you need an example of what the fae can do to a man, once it has hold
of him . . . consider the ProphetтАЩs Fall. Or the First Sacrifice. Witness all the