"David Gemmel - Sipstrassi Tales 03 - Bloodstone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'That probably explains it,' said Meredith. 'A man of peace forced to become something he loathed.
What better identity to choose than a man who purported to be religious, but was actually a
battle-hardened killer? Look after him, Isis. He will need that special care only you can supply.'
*
'Everyone is wrong and you're right; is that what you're saying, Mother?' The young man's face was
flushed with anger as he rose from the dinner table and strode to the window, pushing it open and staring
out over the tilled fields. Beth McAdam took a deep breath, struggling for calm.
'I am right, Samuel. And I don't care what everyone says, What is being done is no less than evil.'
Samuel McAdam rounded on her then. 'Evil, is it? Evil to do the work of God? You have a strange idea
of what constitutes evil. How can you argue against the word of the Lord?'
Now it was Beth who became angry, her pale blue eyes narrowing. 'You call murder the work of God?
The Wolvers have never harmed anyone. And they didn't ask to be the way they are. God alone knows
what caused them to.be, but they have souls, Samuel. They are gentle, and they are kind.'
'They are an abomination,' shouted Samuel. 'And as the Book says, Neither shah thou bring an
abomination into thine house, lest thou be a cursed thing like it.'
'There is only one abomination in this house, Samuel. And I bore it. Get out! Go back to your murdering
friends. And tell them from me, if they ride on to my lands for one of their Wolver hunts I'll meet them
with death and fire.'
The young man's jaw dropped. 'Have you taken leave of your senses? These are our neighbours you're
talking of killing.'
Beth walked to the far wall and lifted down the long-barrelled Hellborn rifle. Then she looked at her son,
seeing not the tall, wide-shouldered man he had become but the small boy who once feared the dark,
and wept when thunder sounded. She sighed. He was a handsome man now, his fair hair close-cropped,
his chin strong. But like the child he once had been he was still easily led, a natural follower.
'You tell them, Samuel, exactly what I said. And if there are any who doubt my word, you put them right.
The first man to hunt down my friends dies.'
'You've been seduced by the Devil,' he said, then swung away and strode through the door. As Beth
heard his horse galloping away into the night, a small form moved from the kitchen and stood behind her.
Beth turned and forced a smile. Reaching out, she stroked the soft fur of the creature's shoulder.
'I am sorry you heard that, Pakia,' Beth sighed. 'He has always been malleable, like clay in the hands of
the potter. I blame myself for that. I was too hard on him. Never let him win. Now he is like a reed that
bends with every breeze.'
The little Wolver tilted her head to one side. Her face was almost human, yet fur-covered and elongated,
her eyes wide and oval, the colour of mixed gold, tawny with red flecks. 'When will the Preacher come
back?' she asked, her long tongue slurring the words.
'I don't know, Pakia. Maybe never. He tried so hard to be a Christian, suffering all the taunts and the
jeers.' Beth moved to the table and sat down. Now it was the slender Pakia who laid her long fingers on
the woman's shoulder. Beth reached up and covered the soft, warm hand. тАШI loved him, you know, when
he was a real man. But, I swear to God, you can't love a saint.' She shook her head. 'Wherever he is, he
must be hurting. Twenty years of his life gone to dust and ashes.'
'It was not a waste,' said Pakia, 'and it is not dust and ashes. He gave us pride, and showed us the reality
of God's love. That is no small gift, Beth.'
'Maybe so,' said Beth, without conviction. 'Now you must tell your people to head deep into the
mountains. I fear there will be terrible violence before the month is out. There's talk of more hunts.'
'God will protect us,' said Pakia.
'Trust in God - but keep your gun loaded,' aaid Beth softly.
'We do not have guns,' said Pakia.
'It's a quote, little one. It just means that. . . sometimes God requires us to look after ourselves.'
'Why do they hate us? Did not the Deacon say we were all God's children?' It was a simple question and
Beth had no answer for it. Laying the gun on the table, she sat down and stared at the Wolver. No more