"R. A. MacAvoy - Damiano" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAvoy R A)

floor. Against his better judgment, almost against his
will he found himself saying, "Don't you care, Seraph?
Don't you hear the cries of men dying? The weeping? It
rang in my ears all of last week when they fought
beside the city wall. The good God knows that since
the Plague there are few enough men left in all the
world."
The angel's expression might have been called
ironical, if irony were a thing that could be built on a
foundation of pity. "I know you hear them, Dami. I
almost wish you did not, for when the ears are open,
the rest of the soul must follow, to its own pain. But I
hear men suffering. I too. The difference between us is
that you hear them when they cry out, whereas I hear
them always."
Damiano's startled glance flew upward to his teach-
er's face. He saw the pity, not directed only toward
suffering humanity but also toward Damiano himself.
He stood confused, not knowing why Raphael should
waste his pity on Damiano the alchemist, who was
young and wealthy, and in good spirits besides.
"What would you have me do?" the angel contin-
ued. His wing feathers gathered up like those of a bird
in the cold. "I can't change the heart of man or the
history he's making for himself. I am not"тАФand here
he spread his hands out before him and his wings out
behind him in a sweeping gesture that took in the
entire arc of the compassтАФ"in truth a part of this
world. I have no calling here."
Damiano swallowed hard. "Except that I called
you, Raphael. Don'tтАФgive me up. Please. If I speak
offensively in your ears, remember I'm only a mortal
man. Tell me my fault. I would take a vow of silence
rather than have my words offend you." He reached
out and slapped the angel's knee, awkwardly and with
rather too much emphasis.
"A vow of silence? That's a rigorous promise, Dami,
and there are few people I have met less suited to it."
Raphael leaned forward, and yellow hair fell gently
curling around his face. "I will not give you up, my
friend. Compared to mankind, I am very patient. I
have the time, you see. And I am not as easily offended
as you might think. But you must not ask me for
answers that are not revealed to men." The golden
eyebrow rose further, and one wing scraped the flat
ceiling. "тАФIt may be that they are not revealed to me,
either."
The wing descended, obscuring the window light
like a filter of snow. "Besides, Damiano, the important
questions involve not the intent of God toward us but