"Paul McAuley - The Book of Confluence 02 - Ancients of Days" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

only with sticks, can frighten away the crack troops of the Department of Indigenous Affairs by
putting on a marching display."
Yama smiled. "Why are you here, Pandaras? Do you really have something to tell me, or
have you come expressly to annoy Tamora? I hope not. She is doing the best she can."
Pandaras looked to either side, then drew himself up until his sleek head was level with
Yama's chest. He said, "I have learned something. You may have exiled me to the bowels of this
broken-backed, bankrupt and debauched department, but I have still been working hard for you."
"You chose your place, as I remember."
Pandaras said, "And now you may thank me for my foresight. I have news which affects our
whole scheme here, and I beg to be allowed to lay my prize at your feet. I don't think you'll be
displeased."
"You have been spying, Pandaras. What did you find?"
"It was in the mausoleum they call the Hall of the Tranquil Mind," Pandaras said. "While
you two have been playing soldiers with the hewers of wood and drawers of water, I've been
risking my life in intrigue. A deadly game with the worst of penalties for losing, but I have had
the good fortune to learn something that affects our whole scheme."
The Hall of the Tranquil Mind was a black, windowless edifice carved out of the basalt wall
of the big cavern which housed the Department of Vaticination. Yama had thought that it was
locked up and derelict, like so much of the Department.
He said, "I suppose you went there to meet your sweetheart. Are you still chasing that
scullion? You are dressed for the part."
Pandaras had washed and mended his ragged clothes and polished his boots. He had found
or stolen a red silk scarf which was knotted around his long, flexible neck with such casual
elegance that Yama suspected he had spent half the morning getting it just so. His two fireflies
spun above his head like living jewels.
He winked and said, "Chased, caught, wooed, won. I didn't come to boast of my conquests,
master. It's an old tale oft told, and there's not time. We're in mortal peril here, if I'm any judge of
the situation."
Yama smiled. His self-appointed squire loved to conjure drama from the slightest of events.
Pandaras said, "There is a gallery that runs along one side of the Hall of the Tranquil Mind,
under the rim of the dome. If you happen to be standing at the top of the stairs to the gallery, and
if you place your ear close to the wall, then you can hear anything said by those below. A device
much favored by tyrants, I understand, who know that plotters often choose public buildings to
meet, for any gathering in a public place can be easily explained away. But fortune favors the
brave, master. Today I was placed in the role of tyrant, and I overheard the whispered plotting of
a pair of schemers."
Pandaras paused. Yama had turned away to look across the shadowy Basilica. Tamora was
marshalling the reluctant thralls into three ranks. Her voice raised echoes under the shabby
grandeur of the vaulted dome.
Pandaras said, "It is more important, master, than playing at soldiers."
"But this is important, too. It is why we are here, to begin with, and besides, it is useful to
stay in practice."
Yama did not add that it helped satisfy something in him that hungered for action. His sleep
had been troubled by bloodthirsty dreams ever since he had entered the Palace of the Memory of
the People, and sometimes an unfocused rage stiffed up headaches that filled his sight with
jagged red and black lightnings, and left him weak and ill. He had been hard-used since he had
reached Ys and escaped Prefect Corin, and he had been wounded in an ambush when they had
first arrived outside the gates of the Department of Vaticination. He needed rest, but there was no
time for it.
He said, "I must hear what Tamora has to say. Walk with me, Pandaras."