"Daniel Keys Moran - The Ring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

The soft, musical voice was muffled only somewhat by the door between them.
"Enter."
Kavad pushed through the door. The first room in the five that composed his
master's quarters was nearly dark; it often was, and it did not bother Kavad. His
night sight was better than Cain's, better than that of any Worker; better, he
suspected, than that of the genegineered Rulers. Cain was seated in the exact
geometric center of the room, among the soft rugs of deer fur and the cushions of
white sunsilk; sitting cross-legged with his spine straight, hands resting upon his
knees. Dim glowfloats bounced restlessly in the air behind Cain, sent his shadow
wavering out toward Kavad in grotesque shapes. Quietly, he spoke.
"Good morning, Kavad."
Kavad inclined his head slightly; his lord had never required more of him than
that. Had he been required to bend his knee as the Workers were used to doing for
their masters, he could not have remained in Cain's service. Thirty-seven years now
Kavad had spent in that service. Their roles were clearly defined, and Kavad was
deeply satisfied with them. Cain was his lord, and Kavad was his servant; and if they
were also friends, nonetheless the first relationship took precedence over the latter.
"Good morning, my lord."
"What have you for me, Kavad?"
"My lord, the shipwrights have informed me that the ship is ready, as ready as it
will ever be."
Cain's head moved in what Kavad thought a nod. "Have you learned anything new
regarding the plans of the Rulers? Something is happening at ParliamentтАж I can feel
it."
"My lord, I regret, we have learned nothing new."
In the darkness Cain's features were not clear. Kavad thought he might, perhaps,
have smiled. "So. But the ship is ready." He clapped his hands together, sharply,
once. His bath servant appeared in the doorway almost instantly. "Bring me my flight
suit," he instructed. The bath servant, a young girl whose name Kavad could never
recall, ran past Kavad, into the next room.
The quiet sounds of clothing being prepared reached them.
"Ten years of peace," said Cain. As always, the voice was smooth, almost lyrical;
Kavad had often thought that his master might have made a fine singer, though he
had never heard Cain raise his voice so. "Ten years of truce with the Rulers, and
twenty years of war with them before they would grant that; and a thousand years of
slavery before even that.
"Now, Kavad," he said, "we will win."


It lacked better than an hour before sunrise.
In a flight suit of ancient design and recent construction, the tall, black-haired,
dark-eyed man who was Cain of Eastmarch walked alone through the dimly lit
corridors of the Caverns.
Seeing him for the first time, one who did not see the depths of his eyes might
have guessed his age at, perhaps, twenty-five.
The shipyard was at the far north end of the Caverns; Cain's quarters, and those
of his subjects, were, for reasons of safety, at the far south. The walk from Cain's
quarters to the shipyard was a lengthy one, mostly uphill. The living quarters were
deep in the Earth; the shipyards were only one level beneath the surface. It never
crossed Cain's mind to bring bodyguards with him, walking alone at night through