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

"When the Hellflame is involved-yes. It is priceless, and both lightsiders and darksiders lust after it. As Games Master, I cannot countenance your presence anywhere near it."
"That is the trouble with bad reputations," said Jack. "No matter what you do, you are always suspect."
"Enough! Did you come to steal it?"
"Only a fool would say yes."
"Then it is impossible to get an honest answer from you."
"If by 'honest answer' you mean for me to say what you want me to say, whether or not it is true, then I would say that you are correct."
"Bind his hands behind his back," said Benoni.
This was done. "How many lives do you have, darksider?" the Games Master asked.
Jack did not reply.
"Come, come now! Everyone knows that darksiders have more than one life. How many have you?"
"I don't like the sound of this," said Jack.
"It is not as if you would be dead forever."
"It is a long way back from the Dung Pits of Glyve at the Western Pole of the world, and one must walk. It sometimes takes years to constitute a new body."
"Then you've been there before?"
"Yes," said Jack, testing his bonds, "and I'd rather not have to do it again."
"Then you admit that you have at least one more life. Good! In that case, I feel no compunction in ordering your immediate execution-"
"Wait!" said Jack, tossing his head and showing his teeth. "This is ridiculous, since I have done nothing. But forget that. Whether or not I came here to steal the Hellflame, I am obviously in no position to do it now. Release me, and I will voluntarily exile myself for the duration of the Hellgames. I will not enter Twilight at all, but will remain in Darkness."
"What assurance have I of this?"
"My word."
Benoni laughed again.
"The word of a darksider who is a piece of criminal folklore?" he finally said. "No, Jack. I see no way to assure the safety of the trophy but by your death. As it is within my power to order it, I do so.-Scribe! Let it be written that at this hour I have judged and ordered this thing."
A ring-bearded hunchback, whose squint made lines on a face as brittle as the parchment he took up, flourished a quill and began to write.
Jack drew himself to his full height and fixed the Games Master with his half-lidded eyes.
"Mortal man," he began, "you fear me be cause you do not understand me. You are a daysider with but one life in you, and when that is gone, you will have no more. We of darkness are said not to have souls, such as you are alleged to possess.' We do, however, live many times, by means of a process which you cannot share. I say that you are jealous of this, that you mean to deprive me of a life. Know that dying is just as hard for one of us as it is for one of you."
The Games Master dropped his eyes.
"It is not-" he began.
"Accept my offer," Jack interrupted, "to absent myself from your games. Allow your order to be fulfilled, and it will be you who will be the ultimate loser."
The hunchback stopped writing and turned toward Benoni.
"Jack," said the Games Master, "you did come to steal it, didn't you?"
"Of course I did."
"Why? It would be hard to dispose of. It is so distinctive-"
"It was for a friend to whom I owe a favor. He desired the bauble. Release me and I will tell him that I failed, which will be no less than the truth."
"I do not seek your wrath upon your return-"
"What you seek will mean little compared to what you will receive, if you make that trip necessary."
". . . Yet a man in my position cannot readily bring himself to trust one who is also known as Jack of Liars."
"Then my word means nothing to you?"
"I am afraid not." And to the scribe he said, "Continue your writing."
". . . And my threats mean nothing?"
"They cause me some concern. But I must weigh your vengeance-several years removed- against the immediate penalties I will suffer if the Hellflame is stolen. Try to understand my position. Jack."
"I do indeed," he said, turning toward Smage and Quazer. "You of the jackass ears and you- gynandromorph!-neither will you be forgotten!"
Smage looked at Quazer, and Quazer batted his eyelashes and smiled. "You may tell it to our patron, the Lord of Bats," he said.
Jack's face changed as his ancient enemy's name was spoken.
Because magic is slowed in Twilight, where science begins, it was perhaps half a minute before a bat entered the tent and passed between them. During this time, Quazer had said, "We compete beneath the banner of the Bat."
Jack's laughter was broken by the creature's passage. When he saw it, he lowered his head and the muscles at the hinges of his jaws tightened.
The silence that followed was interrupted only by the scratching of the quill.
Then, "So be it," said Jack.
They took Jack to the center of the compound, where the man named Blite stood with his huge axe. Jack looked away quickly, and licked his lips. Then his eyes were drawn irresistibly back to the blade's bright edge.
Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats. More of them poured in from the west, but they moved too quickly to cast him shadows that mattered.
He cursed then, knowing that his enemy had sent his minions to mock him in his passing.
When it came to a theft, he generally succeeded. He was irritated at having to lose one of his lives on a sloppy job. After all, he was who he was . . .