"Arthur H. Landis - Camelot 01 - A World Called Camelot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Landis Arthur H)

not the natural state of affairs, neither were a lot of other things which just might put a damper to both
their envy and my pleasure.

The blue-purple contact lenses covered a pair of worried brown eyesтАФmine. The bow and the
swordтАФexcept for neural preconditioningтАФwere strangers to my hands. The ground I trod was alien to
my feet. And, in just a few minutes perhaps, I would be witness to something which all the science of the
Galaxy would deem impossible. The "something" was a part of a bigger thing that I was either to prevent
or to control. I was to play it by ear, actually, for in terms of alternatives we of the Foundation were at a
loss. The facts were that we did not know where failure would lead. We could only surmise, and our
conclusions were anything but pleasant.

The planet, in Galactic listings, was Camelot; to the natives it was Fregis. The situation, as stated, was a
mixed-up mess. I was Kyrie Fern, thirty Earth years old, Foundation graduate cum-spectacular, and
expert in the lore, customs, mores, and idiosyncrasies of feudal societies. I had been chosen as the
Adjuster.

We had known of Camelot for some time. Over a period of two Galactic centuries, ten pairs of
Watchers had spent an equal number of months there. Unlike Adjusters, Watchers worked in
opposite-sexed pairs of high compatibility potential. Their work was what their name impliedтАФto
observe, to avoid boredom and frustration (thus the pair), and to report accordingly.

This they had done. And to read a Camelot report was a joy indeed; that is except the last one. The fun
and games, it seemed, were over. Bloody war, though seemingly the usual state of affairs, was now of a
scope to involve the entire planet. The circumstances were such that all we had watched, all that had
evolved, in a positive sense, might well be destroyed.

And how did we know all this?

Well, that's an introductory point, you see. For our last pair of WatchersтАФliving in the guise of wealthy
tavernkeepers in the seacoast village of Klimpinge in the land of MarackтАФ had witnessed the unfolding
of a predicted, most perilous series of events in which Camelot's forces for progress were ruined, driven
back upon their heartland by dark hordes, so that extinction threatened. . . . And all this in the crystal
ball of a wandering soothsayer.

But since the planet was Camelot-Fregis, second of the sun-star Fomalhaut, they believed it.

And, since all the zaniness of the preceding nine reports, across two centuries of Camelot time, inclusive
of prophesies, had proved trueтАФwe believed it, too.

Even to the final pointтАФthat sorcery would pluck the princess Murie Nigaard, daughter of King Caronne
of Marack, from the king's highway on this very day. It would somehow be the opening gambit of the
dark forces of Om for the disruption of the land of Marack, as a part of the total plan for planetary
conquest. ... I was here to prevent thisтАФor at least to come up with an explanation as to how it was
done.

All things consideredтАФthe black arts were never a part of my curriculum as factтАФI felt abysmally
inadequate I awaited my fate with most ambivalent feelings The musical tinkle of bells preceded the fact.
Then within s space of seconds, there came over the hill a dappled low-slung, and ponderous six-legged
steed trotting dog fashion and followed by another, then by three more in single file.