"stross, charles - different flesh" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

the table and sat back.
"Very well then," he said; "you have asked, so I suppose I must tell you all!
Very well. I was not present for much of this, and I have little first-hand
knowledge of the major actress in this drama, but for the sake of enlightenment
let me tell you about Imad the Insane, who was once my student, and about the
Countessa Danielle, and what they did. And then, perhaps, the meaning of the
current situation will become clear."



Raw and Tenderly
A long distance away, in both space and time, there was a mis-guided youth named
Imad who apprenticed himself to the magus named Jones in order to search out
Truth Absolut. Imad was young and had no memory of his previous existences; he
was gangling and thin and pale-faced, and there was about him the shifty
expression of one who spent too much time in libraries, after the fashion of the
ancients. Unfortunately this did not give Jones cause for concern, for in those
days he had yet to receive the ad ditional soul that gave him his extra name and
his reputation for infallibility. Instead of sending the youth packing, he gave
him tasks to accom-plish -- the mild services of the postulant -- and took it
upon himself to give Imad the tools of wisdom with which to learn his trade. The
fact that Imad later misused them horribly was not Jones's responsibility, for
by that time the youth had long since absconded: but nevertheless Jones was
galled by the whip of hindsight and, resolving not to permit events to continue
unhindered, sent an Eye to watch over his runaway tutee.
This is what he saw:
Imad nearly died in the Marches, hanged as a poacher and a horse-thief and
anything else they cared to accuse him of. The fact that he was travelling afoot
was beside the point, for there was no notion of a fair trial in that harsh land
of exiles and river-barons. The villagers who apprehended him as he dozed by the
highway one afternoon bore him up to the gates of the small and ruinous castle,
and were already preparing a celebratory rope for his gullet when the knight of
the demesne and his soldiers rod e back from the hunt and interrupted the
lynching.
"What is going on?" demanded the lord. "Who is this man?" His shadow fell across
the villagers, who cowered in abject terror before his mounted might. Imad, his
arms twisted behind him in the grip of two peasant lads, gulped and stared
fixedly at the mounted warrior clad all in chain mail, with his lance at his
side and six armoured riders behind him.
The village hetman blinked stupidly, then knelt. Behind him, the two peasants
pushed Imad face-down. "He be a stranger, y'r highness," said the hetman, still
holding the coarse noose in his hands. "Caught'm lurkin' by th' fields, 'e was.
Up ter no good, 'll warrant."
"But what has he done?" asked the knight, idly fingering the pommel of his
saddle. His eyes were dark and utterly unreadable. Insects creaked in the
background, but not a man dared move.
"Rr ... nuthin' yet, y'r highness. But 'e was goin' ter!" The hetman was
agitated. "There be a demon in 'im! 'E's a stranger round 'ere, see!" His
Lordship looked bored.
"I understand. You." He pointed at Imad with an armoured finger. "What have you