"David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'Keep you strong,' said Touchstone. 'You die and promise not be kept.'
'I always honour my promises,' said Talaban. 'And I have not forgotten.' Touchstone looked at him for a
moment, the green eyes locked to Talaban's dark gaze. Then he left the cabin.
Talaban took up his pen and opened the log, carefully detailing the day's work. As dusk deepened he lit a
lantern. The beautifully painted walls of the cabin had been soiled with carbon deposits from lantern flame and
coal over the years. Idly he wondered whether the ship felt a sense of shame at the loss of her power and
prestige. You are a romantic, he told himself.
With the log entry completed Talaban stripped off his clothes and moved through into the small sanctum
beside his bedroom. He removed the three crystals from the velvet bag hanging by the window and placed them
on the rug. Then he knelt facing the window and opened his arms wide. Taking a deep breath he drew on the
power within. With his eyes closed he reached for the first crystal. It was pale and clear, like glittering ice.
Lifting it to his forehead he slowly chanted the Prayer of One. His trance deepened and he felt his body relaxing.
He became aware of knots of tension in his shoulders and neck. Gently he eased them. Completely relaxed now
he laid the crystal down and reached for the second. This was a blue gem the size of his thumbnail. He held it to
his chest, over his heart. The power of the blue seeped through his skin, entering the heart, invigorating the blood
and flowing through his arteries and veins, filling them with strength. Lastly he took the green crystal, the largest
of the three. This one he held against his belly as he chanted the Prayer of the Avatar Prime. This time the power
flowed with more urgency, revitalizing his organs, healing and renewing them. The shock to his system was
great, and pain flared from his kidneys and liver. But it passed and Talaban rose and placed the crystals once
more into the black velvet bag.
The green was coming to the end of its energy, he knew. How long had it been since he renewed it? And
what was stopping him? Pushing the thoughts aside he lit a second lantern and carried it to the full-length mirror
in his bedroom. Leaning in close he examined himself. The skin of his face was tight and glowed with health.
His body was lean, the lines of muscle sharp and clear in the lantern light. Only the eyes were old, he thought,
dark and sombre, brooding. Gazing into his own eyes discomfited him and he turned away from the mirror.
From the closet he took fresh leggings of black wool and a shirt of silver satin. Then he pulled on a dry pair
of boots and returned to his desk. Touchstone had left a plate of salted meat and some fresh bread. He had also
replenished the brazier, which was glowing red. Talaban opened the rear door of the cabin and stepped out onto
the balcony beyond. Cold air whispered against him, but this time it was pleasant, following the heat from the
cabin. The Vagar team had left the glacier, but he could still see the silver pyramids glistening in the moonlight.
And below the ice the energy of the golden rods silently sought the Great Line.
An elk surrounded by wolves. Touchstone's words drifted back to him.
The analogy was not quite correct. More like a dragon surrounded by lions. They feared his terrible fire and
held back. He feared their fangs and their claws ...
... and hoped they would not learn his fire was dying.
 Chapter Two
Questor Ro was a traditionalist. His head was shaved, his forked beard dyed blue, and every day he practised
the Six Rituals of the Avatars for precisely two hours. His clothes were of dark blue, a shirt of expensive satin
edged with silver thread, leggings of finest wool, and boots of blue-stained lizard skin. Around his waist he wore
the silver-edged belt of First Questor, and he still carried the ceremonial sceptre, despite the fact that its energy
had been spent some twenty years before. Though oceans had washed away the Avatar Empire and ice had
entombed its power sources, Questor Ro believed in maintaining standards. It was one of the many reasons he
disliked Talaban.
He considered the others as he waited outside the captain's cabin with the savage Touchstone. 'Him's busy,'
said Touchstone. 'Call us soon.' Questor Ro did not reply. In the glory days no savage would have dared address
an Avatar directly. They would have approached on their knees, then touched their heads to the ground. Every
address would begin with the words Lord hear your servant. In this way discipline was maintained, and lower
orders understood their place in the world. Indeed, in the opinion of Questor Ro, they were far happier for it.
Clearly defined borders of behaviour were the cornerstone of any civilization. Talaban seemed to understand
none of this, and allowed savages to address him as an equal. He had even journeyed among the barbarians,