"Zelazny, Roger - Jack of Shadows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

Smage stopped touching his mustache long enough to nod several times. ". . . And we're here to try to win it," he blurted. "We can't if it is stolen."
"He must be stopped," said the Games Master. "What do you think I should do?"
"Your will is the law here," said Quazer.
"True... Perhaps I should confine him to some lock-up for the duration of the Games."
"In that case," said Quazer, "make certain that there are no shadows in the place where he is captured or in the place where he is to be confined. He is said to be exceedingly difficult to contain-especially in the presence of shadows."
"But there are shadows all over the place!'
"Yes. That is the main difficulty in keeping him prisoner."
"Then either brilliant lights or total darkness would seem to be the answer."
"But unless all the lights are set at perfect angles," said Quazer, "and inaccessible, he will be able to create shadows with which to work. And in darkness, if he can strike but just the smallest light, there will be shadows."
"What strength does he derive from shadows?"
"I know of no one who knows for certain."
"He is a darksider, then? Not human?"
"Some say twilight, but close to the dark- where there are always shadows."
"In that case, a trip to the Dung Pits of Glyve might be in order."
"Cruel," said Smage, and he chuckled.
"Come point him out to me," said the Games Master.
They departed from the tent. The sky was gray overhead, changing to silver in the east and black in the west. Stars dotted the darkness above a row of stalagmitical mountains. There were no clouds.
They moved along the torchlit way that crossed the compound, heading toward the pavilion of the Hellflame. There was a flicker of lightning in the west, near, it seemed, to that place on the boundary where the shrines of the helpless gods stood.
As they neared the open side of the pavilion, Quazer touched Benoni's arm and nodded. The Games Master followed the direction of his gesture with his eyes to where a tall, thin man stood leaning against a tent pole. His hair was black, his complexion swarthy, his features somewhat aquiline. He wore gray garments, and a black cloak was draped over his right shoulder. He smoked some darkside weed rolled into a tube, and its smoke was blue in the torchlight.
For a moment Benoni studied him, sensing that feeling men know when confronting a creature born, not of woman but of an unknown darkstroke, in that place men shunned.
He swallowed once, then said, "All right. You may go now."
"We would like to help-" Quazer began.
"You may go now!"
He watched them depart and then muttered, "Trust one of them to betray another."
He went to collect his guard force and several dozen bright lanterns.
Jack accompanied the arresting party without offering resistance or argument. Surrounded by a party of armed men and caught at the center of a circle of light, he nodded slowly and followed their instructions, not saying a word al] the while.
They conducted him to the Games Master's brightly lighted tent. He was pushed before the table at which Benoni sat. The guards moved to surround him once more with their lanterns and shadow-destroying mirrors.
"Your name is Jack," said the Games Master.
"I don't deny it."
Benoni stared into the man's dark eyes. They did not waver. The man did not blink them at all.
". . . And you are sometimes called Jack of Shadows." There was silence. "Well?"
"A man may be called many things," Jack replied.
Benoni looked away. "Bring them in," he said to one of the guards.
The guard departed, and moments later he returned with Smage and Quazer. Jack flicked a glance in their direction but remained expressionless.
"Do you know this man?" Benoni inquired.
"Yes," they said in unison.
"But you are wrong in calling him a man," Quazer continued, "for he is a darksider."
"Name him."
He is called Jack of Shadows."
The Games Master smiled.
"It is true that a man may be called many things," he said, "but in your case there seems to be considerable agreement. -I am Benoni, Master of the Hellgames, and you are Jack of Shadows, the thief. I'd wager you are here to steal the Hellflame." There was silence again. ". . . You need not deny it or affirm it," he continued. "Your presence is ample indication of your intentions."
"I might have come to compete in the games," Jack ventured.
Benoni laughed.
"Of course! Of course!" he said, swabbing away a tear with his sleeve. "Only there is no larceny event, so we lack a category in which you may compete."
"You prejudge me-and that is unfair," said Jack. "Even if I am he who you have named, I have done nothing to give offense."
"-Yet," said Benoni. "The Hellflame is indeed a lovely object, is it not?"
Jack's eyes seemed to brighten for an instant as his mouth twitched toward an unwilling smile
"Most would agree on that point," he said quickly.
"And you came here to win it-in your own fashion. You are known as a most monstrous thief, darksider."
"Does that rule out my being an honest spectator at a public event?"