"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 15 - Spectrum of a Forgotten Sun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

feminine by its musical resonance. "Look at them, Earl. Children playing
with their toys. Bangs and noises in the night, the sight of flame, the
trembling of the ground. Then, when it's all over, they come out of their
holes and wave flags and chant songs of triumph. And they call it war."

"And you, my lady?"

"Stupidity." She handed him one of the two glasses she carried. The
wine it contained was a lambent green holding the flavor and odor of
mint. "Men are such fools. What has the war decided? That taxes shall be
paid to one faction instead of another and to gain this so-called victory,
what has it cost? A year's revenue at least to pay for the mercenaries. Two
more to repair the damage. Wanton extravagance when the whole matter
could have been settled by cutting a deck of cards."

Dumarest said, "An easy solution, my lady."

"Too easy, which is why they never take it. Always they need to strut
and adopt their postures, make the same old threats and the same old
appeals. Always they need sacrifice and blood. And always, they prate of
their pride. Why are men such fools?"

"To have pride?" Dumarest sipped his wine. "Some men have little
else."

"And so, because of that, it becomes more important to them than life
itself. Is that what you are telling me, Earl? That a man is nothing
without his pride? That rules dictated by others should determine how he
should live and die? That tradition has the right to eliminate
self-determination?"

Her voice had deepened, holding the raw edge of anger and acid
contempt. Dumarest wondered whyтАж not because of what she saw
through the window. Earthquakes could ruin houses, and many cultures
adopted a common garb, so destruction and soldiers were not unique to
war. There were no dead lying in the streets, no blood staining the walls,
no fragments of limbs and shattered tissue to tell of recent events. Like
all mercenary-fought wars the engagement had been conducted with due
consideration to those who footed the bill.

He said, casually, "If you had your way, my lady, some of us would
find it hard to find employment."

"I was forgetting." Light flashed as she lifted her hand, each nail a
silver mirror. "Yet how many soldiers actually kill? And what, to them,
does killing mean? The touch of a finger can launch a missile to destroy a
city a hundred miles distant. A child could do it, and children do.
Children in uniform. Soldiers."

Dumarest watched as she poured herself more wine. Beneath the