"Roberts, John Maddox - Cingulum 03 - The Sword, The Jewel and the Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

"The old Emperor," the woman said, "Go-Hosokawa III, is dying. He cannot last out the year. He wishes to send the Three Treasures of the Imperial Regalia to his son, Tametomo. Tametomo is believed to be living somewhere in the Cingulum."
"Believed?" Haakon asked. "You mean, you've lost track of the royal heir?"
"He disappeared during the last great war that
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Bahadur fought. One morning he picked up his sword, left the royal residence, and bribed his way onto a smuggler's vessel. He left a note saying, in verse form, that he was going to join a Han fleet and fight against Bahadur. Since he had six older brothers, he said, the family would not miss him. He was sixteen years old."
"I take it the six brothers are no longer among us?" Soong asked.
"Three of them also ran off to war and died. The others died of natural causes here on Grass Cutter. Tametomo is the only one left of that generation. We were able to trace the fleet that he joined. The greater part of it was destroyed in a great battle within the Han system. Tametomo's ship escaped with some others and they linked with the Delian League. There was another battle, another defeat.
"After that, matters were so confused that we have been unable to find records of the ships and their crews. There was desperation. Ships were attached to whatever little fleet was still fighting. Eventually, there was nothing but a few shiploads of fugitives looking for any sort of refuge to avoid the Bahadur pits."
"I went through the same process," Haakon said. "All three of us did. In my case, I ended up in the pits. What makes you think he made it to the Cingulum?"
"His ship made it. At least, it was the ship he was last assigned to. Its manifest still carried a Captain of Marines T Minamoto. That must be Tametomo. He was very fond of the tales of his namesake, the ancient
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warrior Minamoto Tametomo. He undoubtedly chose it so he would not have to use his family name."
"How did you get hold of this ship's manifest?" Haakon asked.
"From a contact," the woman said coofly. "You need not trouble yourself about that."
"Why didn't he just come home, or at least send word?" Jemal asked. "The war's over, you know."
"He thinks," said the monk who had spoken earlier, "that it is not honorable to return from defeat. The boy left here with a head stuffed full of old poems and tales of heroes. If he had paid more attention to the holy scriptures, he would not be so full of empty pride, but more mindful of his duty to his family."
"Maybe he just wants to keep on fighting," Haakon pointed out. "The Cingulum is a hotbed of resistance movements. None of it's ever come to anything, but if you want to sit around with your friends and plot a comeback against Bahadur, the Cingulum is the place to be."
"You don't sound very impressed with the Cingu-lans," the woman said.
Haakon shrugged. "It's not our kind of show. Bahadur won. We just try to get along as best we can. Someday the Cingulum may be an organized republic with a fleet and a real chance against the Powers, but that's a long way off." This was only partially true, but he saw no reason to be excessively candid with these people. He knew that the woman, for one, wasn't being completely open with them.
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"He must be convinced," she said, "that this is one place where he can do Bahadur some real damage. He must come home!"
"So that's how it is," Haakon said rhetorically. "And why must he have these Three Treasures? Wouldn't a simple summons from papa do as well?"
"He would not trust the word of a stranger, or even a hologram of his father speaking. Remember how young he was when he left here, how many years and hardships have intervened. He is in his early thirties now; his memories of home will be distorted. He remembers his father as a vigorous man in the prime of life. The Three Treasures are eternal. They cannot be duplicated, and he will know that with them, he holds the future of the royal line, and therefore, of Grass Cutter and all its people. He must come home."
It made sense, Haakon had to admit. He remembered what it was like, being an enthusiastic young man, charging off to war full of ideals. He knew the humiliation of defeat, the disorientation of a cause irretrievably lost, the shame of returning home beaten. Of course, in his case, there had been no choice about the last point. The aristocrat-officer class was forbidden to return to Delius on pain of death.
"All right," he said. "We'll give it a try. I can't guarantee that he's alive, or even that we can find him if he is. The Cingulum is a stranger place than you can imagine. Of what do these treasures consist?"
"They are not bulky," the woman said. "They do not really look like treasures. Their significance is spiritual, almost mystic for the people of Grass Cutter."
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"The Sword," said the monk. "The Sword from the tail of the Cloud Cluster Dragon. The Mirror, which brought the Sun back to us, and the Jewel, whichЧ"
"Those are the Three Treasures," the woman interrupted. "Three rather small objects, unknown to the authorities, which you may take up to your ship without arousing official suspicion in the slightest."
"This all sounds extremely simple," Jemal said. "Extremely agreeable and risk-free. Why, I ask myself, why do I keep getting the impression that there's something we haven't heard yet, something that's going to call for a really good price for our services?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a comical gesture of query.
For the first time, the woman smiled very slightly. "As you say, it isn't as simple as all that. You will have to come with us to see the Emperor. He is old, and he trusts only his own instincts. He will have to interview the couriers before he will entrust the Three Treasures to them."
"Ah, the light dawns," Haakon said. "Will this involve a lengthy trip? You understand, we've been warned by the local BT's that they'll kill us if we stray too far off the officially permitted road."
The monk snorted. "You may depend on us to protect you from the Bahadurans!"
"It pleases me no end," Haakon said, "that you have so high an opinion of yourselves. It's a pretty extreme leap in credulity to trust our lives to it, though. How long a journey are we talking about?"
"His Majesty," the woman said, "keeps his residence
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at the Great Boddhisatva Temple in this province. Leaving Masamune, and traveling by animal transport, it will take no more than two days to go there."
"That's plenty to get us killed," Haakon pointed out. "We've already attracted some attention from the BT's. If they notice us taking a little jaunt into unauthorized territory, there could be trouble for us."
"You let us worry about the BT's," the monk said. "While you go to see His Majesty, we shall arrange a diversion for the Bahadurans. Nothing shall disturb the serenity of His Majesty's hours."
"We've dealt with these people before," said Haakon doubtfully, "and we know that they don't spook easily. They're tough, smart, professional soldiers. It'll take a little more than some shouting and shooting to take their attention off suspicious characters like us."
"Will an uprising of about fifty thousand guerrilla fighters suffice?" the woman asked. "With a major offensive against some twenty Bahaduran positions, hundreds, perhaps thousands of casualties on both sides, and reprisals afterwards by the BT's consisting of, say, ten thousand noncombatants executed as an example?" She stared at them without flinching. The monks stared likewise.
There was a period of silence. Then Haakon said, "You people are serious."
"We do not speak here," said the monk, "of petty wars fought by little noblemen for contemptible gains of power and influence. We speak here of racial survival, of the preservation of a people and a culture. We are not a
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