"John Meaney - Sanctification" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meaney John)

"Now girl," said Zenshara, more grimly than she felt. "What shall I do
with you?"
The girl twisted once, trying to get free, then capitulated. "Mistress,
I'm sorry. I was going to give it to my master, honest." She began to
snivel.
Zenshara believed her. The girl's master was probably not above using his
servant's dexterity to bring in some extra credit.
"Take me to your master's house."
It was a medium-sized dwelling, with a small garden of fruit trees and a
sprinkling fountain. It was better than the house Zenshara had lived in as
a girl, but it seemed desperately shabby compared to the monastery's
expensive simplicity. She announced herself at the front door, and
demanded to be let in.
The owner and his wife came fearfully to the door, and invited her inside.
The wife sent a group of servants scurrying to fetch food for their guest,
but Zenshara stopped her. First she asked to use their terminal. Zenshara
used this to make an enquiry about Zhiang. According to the terminal, the
boy was enrolled at a technical institute in the city, and an outstanding
student there. Zenshara's monastic access code would have allowed her to
find out more, but that was enough. A side-effect of her enquiry would
have been to alert the monastery to her whereabouts, a fact which was not
lost on the owner and his wife. Nervously, they asked if there was
anything else they might do for her.
"Show me the servants' quarters," Zenshara said.
She had to insist before they took her to the cold stone rooms where the
servants slept. She asked for food to be brought, and announced that she
would be staying for the night. Confused as well as frightened, the couple
tried to persuade Zenshara to take their room or a guest room, but they
subsided when she coldly said no.
So Zenshara spent that night in miserable servants' quarters, hardly
sleeping in the cold. The servants themselves did not speak to her and,
though worried by her presence, they fell asleep long before she did.
They were still sleeping when Zenshara awoke, shortly before dawn. She
left the house quietly and headed back towards the monastery, to the
cloisters where she belonged.

This time Zenshara better understood the ceremony. Walking into the Great
Hall, she felt detached from the onlookers, the Teachers and
Administrators and acolytes, and yet she was a part of them. Kneeling, she
admired the graceful curves of the room in which she was about to die.
Life, she wanted to sing, is about giving. She looked at the blue-robed
archers kneeling in readiness, just now fitting the arrows to their bows.
Their ranks were picked from Teachers who had been near to Sainthood
themselves, yet unable to take the final step. Her own Teacher was among
them. In the quantum state of this hall today, arrows would move at the
speed of thought from those who had trained to fire without volition.
Probably no-one thought the precautions were necessary today. If there
were any person able to form a disciplined thought and hold it, that
person was Zenshara.
A ship waited in orbit high above the planet, though Zenshara had given no