"Roger Taylor - Whistler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

The land that lay in the advancing shade of this strange tide was a great spur that protruded south from a
vast continent. It bore the name it had always borne тАУ Gyronlandt. Once, according to legend, it had
been a single mighty state glorying in its strength and prosperity, and the name still resonated with that
past. Through the ages, however, that same legend declared, Gyronlandt had been riven by terrible civil
strife and then by invasions of desperate peoples from across the seas, fleeing terrors and wars of their
own. And despite many attempts to hold to this ancient unity тАУ some wise, some foolish тАУ Gyronlandt
had drifted relentlessly towards what it was today, a land of a score or so different states living more or
less peacefully together. A land that had been thus ever since ringing legend had dwindled into mere
history and the thundering rhetoric of mythical heroes had become the ranting and mewling of an
interminable list of political leaders in whose wake lay, inevitably, a long tangled skein of unfulfilled
promises and broken pacts and treaties.

Nevertheless, the notion that тАШone dayтАЩ Gyronlandt would be united again still held some charm for
almost all the peoples of the land, and often formed a rosy backdrop to any revels of a remotely patriotic
nature. That the several states were ruled (and misruled) by as many different institutions of government,
and that these institutions were frequently changed тАУ sometimes peacefully, sometimes not тАУ did nothing
to further any cause towards such unity. Nor did the equally persistent idea that the present disunity was
тАШof courseтАЩ due to тАШthemтАЩ. The identity of тАШthemтАЩ varied from time to time, depending on which
neighbouring state was in or out of favour, but certainly it was never тАШusтАЩ.

Gyronlandt was separated from the lands of the northern continent by an intimidating mountain range,
across which only occasional traders and other desperate men would venture. The forces that had
formed these mountains had also thrown up a craggy rib down the middle of Gyronlandt which
culminated at its most southerly point in a region jagged with a jumble of lesser mountains. This was
Canol Madreth, the smallest and most central of GyronlandtтАЩs states. It was also the only one whose
boundaries had remained unchanged, though this was due mainly to the fact that no one saw any benefit
in fighting to annex a land that consisted mainly of mountains and steep-sided valleys of uncertain fertility.
Still less could anyone see any benefit in holding sway over the inhabitants of Canol Madreth тАУ the
Madren.

To the more kindly disposed of the other peoples of Gyronlandt, the Madren were said to be reserved.
Others, less charitably, referred to them as rude and churlish, and frequently linked these attributes with
stupidity as well. It could not be denied that the MadrenтАЩs attitude to outsiders was often an unnerving
mixture of chilling politeness and open mistrust, and it did little to endear them to anyone. Not that this
seemed to concern them. They considered themselves to be markedly superior to all their neighbours.

And, almost unique amongst the peoples of Gyronlandt, the Madren were religious. Indeed, they had a
state religion тАУ Ishrythan. It was a sombre-faced creed involving a stern deity, Ishryth, who together with
a triumvirate of Watchers, was responsible for the creation and continuation of all things. Ishryth was
forever battling against the depredations of his brother, Ahmral, who, with a trio of his own, the Uleryn,
sought constantly to lead mankind astray so that in the ensuing chaos he might remake IshrythтАЩs creation
in his own image. Ishrythan was a religion of duty and dedication, not joy or pleasure, promising bliss in
the future only for appropriate behaviour now, and heavily larded with threats of eternal damnation for
back-sliders. Of the other religions that existed throughout Gyronlandt, almost all derived from the same
holy book as the MadrenтАЩs Ishrythan, the Santyth, though most of them held celebration at their hearts,
and in so far as they considered it at all, their followers tended to look upon Ishrythan as at best a
misinterpretation of the Santyth and at worst, a wilful distortion; a heresy.

Not that such thoughts were of any great significance for, even among the Madren, few in Gyronlandt