"Walter Jon Williams - Prayers on the Wind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

PRAYERS ON THE WIND
by WALTER JON WILLIAMS


[VERSION 1.1 (Feb 13 03). If you find and correct errors in the text, please update the version number
by 0.1 and redistribute.]




First appeared in When the Music's Over, edited by Lewis Shiner, 1991. For the personal use of those
who have purchased the ESF 1993 Award anthology only.




Hard is the appearance of a Buddha.
--Dhammapada


Bold color slashed bright slices out of Vajra's violet sky. The stiff spring breeze off the Tingsum
glacier made the yellow prayer flags snap with sounds like gunshots. Sun gleamed from baroque
tracework adorning silver antennae and receiver dishes. Atop the dark red walls of the Diamond Library
Palace, saffron-robed monks stood like sentries, some of them grouped in threes around ragdongs,
trumpets so huge they required two men to hold them aloft while a third blew puff-cheeked into the
mouthpiece. Over the deep, grating moan of the trumpets, other monks chanted their litany.

Salutation to the Buddha.
In the language of the gods and in that of the Lus,
In the language of the demons and in that of the men,
In all the languages which exist,
I proclaim the Doctrine.


Jigme Dzasa stood at the foot of the long granite stair leading to the great library, the spectacle filling
his senses, the litany dancing in his soul. He turned to his guest. "Are you ready, Ambassador?"
The face of !urq was placid. "Lus?" she asked.
"Mythical beings," said Jigme. "Serpentine divinities who live in bodies of water."
"Ah," !urq said. "I'm glad we got that cleared up." Jigme looked at the alien, decided to say nothing.
"Let us begin," said the Ambassador. Jigme hitched up his zen and began the long climb to the Palace,
his bare feet slapping at the stones. A line of Gelugspa monks followed in respectful silence. Ambassador
Colonel !urq climbed beside Jigme at a slow trot, her four boot heels rapping. Behind her was a line of
Sangs, their centauroid bodies cased neatly in blue-and-gray uniforms, decorations flashing in the bright
sun. Next to each was a feathery Masker servant carrying a ceremonial parasol.
Jigme was out of breath by the time he mounted the long stairway, and his head whirled as he entered
the tsokhang, the giant assembly hall. Several thousand members of religious orders sat rigid at their
stations, long lines of men and women: Dominicans and Sufis in white, Red Hats and Yellow Hats in their
saffron zens, Jesuits in black, Gyudpas in complicated aprons made of carved, interwoven human
bones.... Each sat in the lotus posture in front of a solid gold data terminal decorated with religious
symbols, some meditating, some chanting sutras, others accessing the Library.