"Weis, Margaret & Hickman, Tracy - Darksword 02 - Doom of the Darksword UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)
"Is this a matter of common knowledge among the Sorcerers there?" The interrogation continued relentlessly. Saryons head began to throb. He longed for quiet, longed to rid himself of the probing voice. But he couldn't think how to do it, short of dashing his head against the brick wall. Biting his lip, he answered the question.
"No. Joram has learned to hide his deficiency superbly. He is skilled in illusion and sleight of hand. Apparently that woman who passed herself off as his mother Ч Anja Ч taught him. Joram knows what would happen to him if anyone found out. Even among the Dead and the outcasts here, he would be banished at the best, murdered at worst." The catalyst grew impatient. "But surely Bjachloch reported all this Ч "
"Blachloch knows what it is necessary for him to know," Vanya answered. "I had my suspicions, I admit, and he did what
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DOOM OF THE DARKSWORD
was necessary to either confirm or refute them. I did not see the need to discuss the matter with him."
The catalyst shifted restlessly in his chair. "But there is a need to discuss it with me," he muttered.
"Yes, Father." The Bishops voice was now cold and firm. "I sense in you an attachment to this young man, a growing affection for him. It is acting as a deadly poison in your soul. Brother Saryon, and you must purge yourself of it. Yes, perhaps I did send you in hope that you would confirm what I had long suspected. Now you know the secret, Saryon, and it is a terrible one! The knowledge that the true Prince lives would leave us at the mercy of our enemies. The danger is so vast that it is almost unthinkable! What if it were known, Saryon, that the true Prince was Dead? Rebellion would be the least of our worries! The ruling family would be cast out, reviled. Merilon would be in chaos, fall easy victim to Sharakan! Surely you see this, Saryon!"
"Yes, Holiness." Once more Saryon attempted to moisten his mouth, but his tongue felt as if it were made of wool. "I see it."
"And so you understand why it is imperative that Joram be brought to us Ч "
"Why wasn't it imperative before?" Saryon demanded, cold and exhaustion giving him unwonted courage. "You had Joram here, you had Blachloch. The man was a warlock, Duuk-t
Saryon hung his head. The rebuke was well deserved. Though he had lost his faith in both his church and his god, he could not find it in his heart to believe that the Bishop of Thim-hallan would order a man's death. Even the babies Чthe ones judged Dead Чwere not put to death but were taken to the Chambers of Waiting, where they were allowed to slip quietly out of a world in which they had no place. As for the murder of
the young Deacon, that had been Blachloch's doing. Saryon could well believe that the warlock had been difficult for the Bishop to control. The Duuk-t.'arith lived by their own laws.
"I am going to confess something to you, Father." Vanya's thoughts came to Saryon laden with pain. Tbe catalyst winced, feeling the same pain inside himself. "I tell you this, in order that you will understand more clearly. If it were not for this wretched young man's discovery of the darkstone, I would have been content to let him live out his life, hidden among the Sorcerers Чat least until such time as we were ready to move against all of them. Don't you see, Saryon? It would have been so easy to lose Joram among them, to eliminate all these dangers to the world at one blow, without upsetting the people. Chastise Sharakan, punish the rebellious catalysts, eliminate the Sorcerers of the Dark Arts, rid ourselves of a Dead Prince. It was all to have been so simple, Saryon."
Once again, that silence within the silence. Saryon sighed, letting his head sink into his hands. The voice resumed, speaking so softly it was a whispering in his mind.
"It can still be simple. Father. You hold the fate of Merilon in your hands, if not the fate of the world."
Saryon, appalled, looked up, protesting. "No, Holiness! I don't want Ч "
"You don't want the responsibility?" Vanya was grim. "I am afraid you have little choice. You made a mistake. Father, and now you must pay for it. I know something of darkstone, you see. And I know that Joram could not have learned to use it without the help of a catalyst."
"Holiness, I didn't understand Ч " Saryon began in misery.
"Didn't you, Saryon? Your head may have condoned your actions, but your soul knew you sinned! I sense your guilt, my son, a guilt that has destroyed your faith. And you will not be absolved of it until you do your duty. By bringing the young man to me, by turning him over to the Church, you will ease your tortured conscience and find the peace that you once knew."
"What Чwhat will happen to Joram?" Saryon asked hesitantly.
"That should not be your concern, Father." Vanya was stern. "The young man has twice broken our most sacred laws Ч he committed murder and he has brought back into the world a dread, demonic power. Consider your own black soul, Saryon, and seeks its redemption!"
WEIS AND HICKMAN
DOOM OF THE DARKSWORD
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If I only could, Saryon thought wearily.
"Father Saryon"ЧVanya was clearly angry now Ч"I sense doubt and turmoil where there should be only contrition and humility!"
Forgive me, Holiness!" Saryon pressed his hands to his temples. "This has all been so sudden! I can't understandЧI must have time to think and . . . and consider what is best to be done Ч "A sudden suspicion crossed his mind. "Holiness, how is it that Joram came to live? How did Anja Ч "
"What is that, Father? More questions?" Bishop Vanya interrupted severely. There was a pause, heavy, waiting.
Saryon swallowed, though there was nothing in his mouth but the taste of blood. He'tried to clear his mind, but the questions were there Чpersistent, nagging. The Bishop may have sensed this, for the thoughts that came to Saryon next were as warm as a blanket.
"Perhaps you are right. Father," Vanya said gently. "You need time. I am impatient, I admit. The matter is so critical to me, our danger so real, that I have been unfeeling. A day more cannot make any difference. I will contact you this evening to make the final arrangements. The Chamber of Discretion gives me the ability to find you any time, any place. You are always in my thoughts, as the old saying goes."
Saryon shivered. This was not a comforting idea. "I am honored, Holiness," he mumbled.
"May the Almin walk with you and guide your stumbling steps."
"Thank you. Holiness."
The silence was back, and this time Saryon knew that the Bishop was gone. Creeping from his chair, the catalyst crossed the cell and lay down once more upon his cot. He pulled the thin, meager blanket up around his shoulders and lay there, shaking with cold and fear. The early morning sun shown through the barred window, shedding such a pale, wan light that, if anything, it intensified the chill atmosphere rather than warmed it. Saryon stared bleakly at the shadows wavering in the mocking brightness and tried to understand what had happened to him. *
But he was consumed with such horror and loathing that he could'barely concentrate. Angrily he struggled with such rebellious feelings.
"I should be filled with humble gratitude to think the Bishop cares about his people so much that he devised this means of watching over them. If my soul were cleansed, as he says, then I would not resent this invasion," Saryon told himself bitterly. "It is my own sins that make me shudder in fear at the thought that he has the power to finger through my mind like a thief! My life belongs to the Church, after all. I should have nothing to hide."
He rolled over on his back, watching the moving darkness in the rafters.
"Oh, to find peace again! Perhaps what the Bishop said was true. Perhaps I have lost my faith because of my own guilt, a guilt I refuse to admit? By confessing my sins and accepting my punishment, I would be free! Free of these tormenting doubts! Free of this inner turmoil!"
The catalyst felt an instants peace wash over him as he considered this. It was warm and soothing and it filled up the terrible, black, cold emptiness inside him. If Vanya had been present, Saryon would have flung himself at the Bishops feet then and there.
But . . . Joram. . . .
Yes, what about Joram? The memory of the young man pricked the bubble of peace. The warmth began to ooze away. No! Saryon fought to hang onto it.
"Admit it," he argued with himself. "Joram frightens you! Vanya is right. The young man is a very real danger. It would be a relief to be rid of him and the responsibility of that weapon of evil, especially now that I am certain of the truth. After all, what was it the ancients said Ч'The truth shall make you free'?" ,
Very well, countered Saryons black, cynical soul, but what id the truth? Did Vanya answer your questions? What truly happened seventeen years ago? If Joram is the Pnnce, how and why is he-still alive?
The catalysts eyes closed, trying to block out sun and shadows alike. Once again, he held that small baby in his arms, rocking it gently, his tears falling upon the unconscious head. Once again, he felt Joram s touch Ч the young man's hand resting upon his shoulder as it had done in those dreadful moments last night in the forge. He saw the look of starved longing in the black, cold eyes Ч the longing for love Joram s soul had so long denied itself. Joram saw that love in Saryon. The bond was there! Yes- If Saryon had believed in the Almin, he might almost
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