"Roberts, John Maddox - Stormlands 03 - The Poisoned Lands UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

able stone, yet depend on a ferry system worthy of a mud village.
The great bridge was just one of the projects she had set in motion. She had seen the great engineering works of Neva, and she wanted her kingdom to be in no way inferior to Shazad's. A new port with separate merchant and naval basins was under construction, complete with covered ship houses. The capital would soon have a fully roofed market, with spacious warehouses around its perimeter, and she had ordered others built in all the principal cities. Those cities would be connected by roads paved with cut stone.
The old kingdom of Chiwa had consisted of royalty, nobility and priesthood existing in great magnificence atop a foundation of tremendous squalor. Larissa intended that her land would be wholly magnificent. Her husband needed a huge warrior class for his conquests. Peasants and slaves might be necessary for the everyday work of empire, but there was no reason why they should have to offend the eyes of their betters.
"Shall I send for the litter?" me slavewoman asked. Larissa had never liked to use any form of land transportation save her own feet, but Chiwans were accustomed to obeying masters who rode on the shoulders of their countrymen, and in recent months she had found it a pleasant sensation. There was something fitting, after all, in being borne along by the musclepower of subject peoples. Slaves deserved their fates, and should be kept aware of the fact. Like the Chiwan lords and ladies before her, she had selected a team matched for size, skill and beauty.
"Yes, have them standing by." Already, the pain was lessening. The woman had been one of her earliest acquisitions on the mainland. This was one of many skills which Larissa now found to be indispensable. More and more, she depended on her slaves. She had too much to do every hour of the day.
It was a fine day for an excursion, she had to admit. The
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gentle rocking of her litter was soothing and the high clouds caused the sun to glare less fiercely than usual. The streets of the city had been swept clean, by her order. Beautiful as the city was, she had been appalled by its stench when she and her husband had entered it as conquerors. The filth of humans and animals, combined with the reek of sacrifice from the many temples, had turned the air into a strangling fog despite the tons of incense burned everywhere.
It was a very ancient city, much built over, many of its buildings constructed of stone scavenged from even older structures. There were statues of kings whose names were long forgotten, of gods no longer worshipped. Mansions of the wealthy abutted great blocks of slums and on the outskirts of the city the mud huts of peasants were surrounded by beautifully laid out, lovingly tended gardens, fields and orchards.
At the bridge site, the usual gawkers prostrated themselves as they saw their queen borne among them. The royal overseer and the foreign engineers bowed with greater dignity as the litter was lowered to the pavement.
"Welcome my queen," said the overseer, once a Chiwan guild master. "You are just in time. Today, we put the keystone of the first span in place."
"That is what I came to see," she told him. The engineers began to speak of the mysteries of their craft, of weights and materials and stresses. She listened with half an ear, knowing that she could not understand anything so abstruse, but content that these men knew their business. She had hired their services from Queen Shazad of Neva. Her sister monarch was always happy to engage in trade and peaceful projects, but she drew the line at cooperation on military matters.
The bridge scarcely looked like a bridge as yet. Pilings had been sunk at intervals and several abutments were completed, but the soon-to-be-finished span was so encased in wooden frames and scaffolding that little of the beautiful
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stone was visible. Lashed to the span's abutments was a huge raft topped by a massive crane, operated by a tremendous wheel in which clambering slaves furnished lifting power. From the crane's lifting arm dangled the massive, wedge-shaped keystone that would complete the span and make its-arch a freestanding unit. Workmen handled ropes to keep the great stone centered as, an inch at a time, it was lowered.
There was a general holding of breath as the stone descended the last tew inches. A foreman shouted and made dramatic gestures which the workmen ignored, concentrating instead on their delicate steering task. The fit of the stone was so precise that, once in place, there could be little wedging or fine adjustment.
The stone settled and the workmen set up a cheer, which was taken up by the watchers on the riverbank. The engineers and the overseer let out a long-held breath. The overseer turned to the queen, mopping a nervous sweat from his brow.
"Perfect, my queen. Now the scaffolding and the frames come down. By this time tomorrow, you will be able to appreciate the span in all its beauty."
"Well done, all of you," she proclaimed, loud enough for the workers on the bridge to hear. "Finish the other spans as well, and your queen will reward you richly." The cheer was raised anew. Men were easily recompensed, she thought, even for such prodigious labor as this.
She returned to the palace in a much better frame of mind. The pain in her head was gone, and she had a feeling of real accomplishment. The bridge had been her idea. She. had declared that the bridge should be, and now she could see it coming into being, day by day. Her husband enjoyed glory and power. She liked to see tangible results. Glory and battles and reputations could be forgotten, like the forgotten kings whose images she saw everywhere around her. Her bridge, her harbors and markets and roads would last
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for centuries. She could look on her works and know that her power meant something.
One thing she had vowed: She would build no temples. There were already too many of them and, splendid though they might be, they were useless. She did not like priests and she liked their gods even less. Some of the temples of this kingdom were awe-inspiring, but magnificence for its own sake disgusted her. She still felt some lingering respect for the spirits of her ancestral islands, but she had violated most of their tabus so she preferred not to think of them.
As she entered the palace, she saw two men rise from the bench upon which they had been sitting. This was the entrance hall where she usually received petitioners and she was about to tell them to come back another time when something about their appearance stopped her. She knew she had seen them somewhere before.
The men came forward, bowing. A Shasinn junior warrior who had been lounging against a wall sauntered forward to stand by his queen, his spear held casually in one hand. Had she nodded to him in a particular way, the youth would have spitted both men in half a heartbeat. His studied languor disguised the lightning killing reflexes of the Shasinn.
"Who are you?" she asked as the men thrust back their hoods, revealing a man with short, black hair and beard, and one with a half-shaven head, the remaining hair dyed blue.
"1 am Haffle," said the black-bearded one, "and this is Ingist. We are . . ."
' 'I know who you are.' * Now she remembered them. An excited tingle began inside her. For these two to approach her like mis could only mean one thing. "Come with me. Say nothing until I bid you."
Wordlessly, they followed her into the palace proper, the young warrior at their backs. She led them to a broad courtyard where a table was quickly furnished with food and
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wine by the palace slaves. She dismissed the slaves, and the young warrior took his place against a wall, just out of hearing distance. It looked trusting, but Gasam picked all the palace guards personally. At the first hostile motion, the boy could launch his spear at one man, snatch the throwing-stick from his belt and hurl it to brain the other. The ball-headed stick would be whizzing through the air before me spear split its victim's spine.
Playing the generous hostess, she filled three cups and gave one to each man. As she sipped at hers, she studied them. They were nervous, keyed up and elated. For the sake of form, they sipped at their wine and picked at the food before them, but she could tell that their stomachs were paralyzed by excitement.
"You have not reported to Master Hildas?" she asked, naming her chief of intelligence. She saw their eyes widen slightly, knowing that they had staked their fortunes on this gamble.
"My queen," said the one named Haffle, "so vital is the intelligence we bring you that we decided it must be heard only by yourself or the king. When we reached this land, we found that the long had already embarked on a war of conquest. Having no desire to tramp through a war-torn country in search of the king, we decided to come straight to the palace and report directly to you."
"That was wise," she said. "If you have brought me what I think you have, no one could ever question your bravery. I will see that Hildas gives you no trouble. He is busy with a new task hi any case. Now, tell me."
"My queen," said the blue-haired one, "we have found the steel mine of King Hael!''
She let out a sigh of pure, sensuous pleasure. "Go on," she all but whispered.
In one hand the queen clutched her miniature steel spear, the emblem of her power as regent in her husband's ab-
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sence. In the other, she held the most precious object in'the world: a map, scrolled and encased in a watertight tube of lacquered leather.
She had been sitting thus for hours, her face clenched in a frown. Her slavewomen trod lightly, frightened at the change that had come upon their mistress. Never before had she behaved thus. They had thought they knew her many moods, but this one was new. Larissa was a dangerous woman when she was upset.
They need not have worried. Their behavior was the last thing in her thoughts. The queen was afflicted by an unfamiliar sensation: indecision. Ordinarily, she behaved as naturally and instinctively as an animal. This situation was unprecedented. Gasam had been specific in his instructions: She was to stay here and govern in his stead. Yet, she had to get this map and this report to him, wherever he might be. And there was no one, absolutely no one, she could trust to do this for her.
For much of the night, she sat unmoving. The slaves brought candles and lamps. Food was placed before her but she left it untouched.