"Zohra Greenhalgh - Tricksters Touch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenhalgh Zohra)

sideways glance at another of his brothers, Greatkin Mattermat. This
Greatkin was the Patron of All Things Made Physical: of everything that
"mattered." At the moment, the ponderous fellow had his mouth full of
salad. Dressed in earth colors, Greatkin Mattermat smelled richly of caves
and loam and fir trees. Rimble grinned and added, "Mattie hates quantum
leaps, see. Hates them and blocks them."

Swallowing swiftly, Mattermat glared at Rimble and said, "Did I hear what I
think I just heard? Did you blame me for all the trouble on Mnemlith?"

Jinndaven pursed his lips and muttered, "At least Rimble didn't name an
age of transition after you. The Jinnaeon. The worst period of history that
Mnemlith has ever known." Jinndaven put his head in his hands and rolled
his eyes.

Rimble returned Mattermat's glare with one of his own. "Trouble? That
wasn't trouble. That was an experiment. An improoovement. A remedy for a
stagnant situationтАФ"

"Mnemlith was getting along fine until you interfered!" retorted Mattermat.
Among other things, Mattermat was also the Patron of Inertia. Being the
personification of change itself, Rimble had long ago decided that his divine
charge included the subversion of entropyтАФi.e., MattermatтАФwherever he
found it. As a result, Rimble had earned the displeasure of his heavyweight
brother on countless occasions over the millennia.

"I saved that world!" cried Trickster, his boredom vanishing as he warmed
to the idea of having it out with Mattermat once and for all. "Furthermore
and most impor-tantly, I caused enough turmoil on Mnemlith to make folks
start praying to us again. In order to pray to us, they have to remember our
names. Remembering us makes them large-minded. And that, my dear
brothers and sisters, is the point."

Moments before the Panthe'kinarok meet and feast were to begin, Rimble
had decided that Mnemlith was the sleepiest world in the known universes.
According to Rimble, only a quarter of that world's population could recite
the names of all the Greatkin. Most had forgotten that the Greatkin had
ever existed. And even less than a quarter knew which of the Greatkin lived
in sunny Eranossa and which lived in the shadowy, subtle underworld called
Neath. Can't have that, said Rimble. Such forgetfulness might spread to
the unknown universes. It would be a veritable plague of oblivion. So
Rimble had taken Mnemlith by the shoulders and shaken that world. Hard.

Mattermat sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving Trick-ster's. There was a
short silence while he drank. The tension in the room increased. Mattermat
put his wine goblet down carefully. Before he could speak again, Sathmadd,
the Patron of Organization, Mathematics, and Red Tape, inter-rupted.

"Rimble, I've had my fill of your turmoil, as you call it. Chaos and havoc
would be more apt," she said primly. She was a bustling sort of Greatkin,