"John Norman - Gor 05 - Assassin of Gor " - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

who would think little of men on the whole, yet could not despise such men as
these, these of Ko-ro-ba.
The procession did not chant, nor sing, for this was not a time for such
things,
nor did it carry boughs of Ka-la-na, nor were the sounds of the sista or
tambor
heard in the sunlight that morning. At such a time as this Goreans do not sing
nor speak. They are silent, for at such a time words mean nothing, and would
demean or insult; in such a time there can be for Goreans only silence, memory
and fire.
The procession was led by four Warriors, who supported on their shoulders a
framework of crossed spears, lashed together, on which, wrapped in the scarlet
leather of a tarnsman, lay the body.
Kuurus watched, unmoved, as the four Warriors carried their scarlet burden to
the height of the huge, sweet-smelling, oil-impregnated pyre.
Averting their eyes the Warriors threw back the scarlet leather that the body
might lie free on the spears, open to the wind and sun.
He was a large man, Kuurus noted, in the leather of a Warrior. The hair, he
remarked, was unusual.
The procession and those who had been earlier at the pyre now stood back from
it, some fifty yards or so, for the oil-impregnated wood will take the torch
quickly and fiercely. There were three who stood near the pyre; one wore the
brown robes of the Administrator of a City, the humblest robes in the city,
and
was hooded; another wore the blue of the Caste of Scribes, a small man, almost
tiny, bent now with pain and grief; the last was a very large man, broad of
back
and shoulder, bearded and with long blond hair, a Warrior; yet even the
Warrior
seemed in that moment shaken.
Kuurus saw the torch lit and then, with a cry of pain, thrown by the Warrior
onto the small mountain of oiled wood. The wood leaped suddenly alive with a
blaze that was almost a burst of fire and the three men staggered backward,
their forearms thrown across their eyes.
Kuurus bent down and picked up a stalk of grass and chewed on it, watching.
The
reflection of the fire, even in the sunlight, could be seen on his face. His
forehead began to sweat. He blinked his eyes against the heat.
The men and women of Ko-ro-ba stood circled about the pyre, neither moving nor
speaking, for better than two Ahn. After about half an Ahn the pyre, still
fearful with heat and light, had collapsed with a roar, forming a great,
fiercely burning mound of oil-soaked wood. At last, when the wood burned only
here and there, and what had been the pyre was mostly ashes and glowing wood,
the men of a dozen castes, each carrying a jar of chilled wine, moved about,
pouring the wine over the fire, quenching it. Other men sought in the ashes
for
what might be found of the Warrior. Some bones and some whitish ash they
gathered in white linen and placed in an urn of red and yellow glass. Kuurus
knew that such an urn would be decorated, probably, since the man had been a
Warrior, with scenes of the hunt and war. The urn was given to him who wore