"Zelazny, Roger - Lord Demon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"I think it's my turn," I said.
We slipped into the human world, using one of the established Gates. After so many centuries of converse with the Earth plane, demonkind has established several of these to various points around the globe. If one wants to go to somewhere there isn't a public GateЧlike when I went to IrelandЧthe best way is to enter one of the uninhabited planes shunted off from our own. These planes, commonly known as traveling planes, have been stocked with mapping spheres. Of course, there are private Gates, like mine into San Francisco, but using one of those without the permission of the owner is considered very bad form.
After we arrived on the Earth plane, Viss walked us a good part of the way across town, to the diner she claimed had the best coffee. I have to admit, it wasn't bad.
Seated in a booth, staring out into the night, she said, "We have to learn what is going on. Suddenly, there is more to it than simply the killing of your servant. It was either a challenge to you or an attempt to make my son look guilty. I know Devor from a long time ago. He had a reputation as spendthrift gambler and an indulger in imbue."
"Sounds as if he hasn't changed much," I said.
While most of us enjoy gambling, demons don't seem to have a whole lot of vicesЧfoibles and egocentricities, yes; vices, noЧand imbue is about the only drug that can affect us. Devor had always seemed to have something of a hankering for it. It is expensive, too, and getting more and more so every day, I understandЧas the supply shrinks.
"Is he an enemy of yours?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "Don't much care for himЧbut not to the point of death."
"Does he have any close friends?"
"Passion Flower, Snow Goon, Night Bride, the Walker," Tuvoon answered. "Hard to say how close they are."
"Any of them particularly after you, Kai Wren?"
"No reason I can think of."
She glanced at her son, who shook his head.
"So much for the obvious," she said. "Though none of them is precluded, of course."
I nodded. "Of course. Strange, though, thinking of having real, dyed-in-the-wool enemies after centuries of peace."
"Relatives?" she asked.
"No, lost the last of mine in the wars."
The wars were about a thousand years ago, on another plane, and pretty much finished off the High and the Mighty: i.e., us Good Guys won. Some of the real old evils passed at that time, some of the worst things from the oldest times finally bought it in the Demon Wars. We took our losses, too, as is the way of those things.
"Our bottle," she said, "the one you paid me with for your martial training ..."
"Yes? Got any problems and I'll fix them. Promise. That, or make you a new one."
"No problems," she said, "in the whole twelve centuries we've had it. Snuggest place I ever lived. I really got to think of it as home. Felt I ought to tell you, that's all. I appreciate someone who knows what he's doing."
I laughed.
"Coming from youЧ" I began. "Thanks."
We sipped our coffee.
After a time, she said, "You know, I sometimes think our kind is too solitary. Loners sometimes get a tendency to magnify everything that happens to them. Then we might brood on it and one day just blow up, or go into total depravity."
"I've heard this notion before," I said, "and I think you're probably right. Trouble is, I don't make friends easily."
Tuvoon laughed.
"I know what you mean," he said. "Mom and I do have a few friends, though, and I frequently make it to the Conventicle."
Viss snorted.
"They only meet once every fifty years," she observed.
"Gives you something to look forward to," Tuvoon said.
We all laughed, and when the time came we had a second cup of coffee. We discussed again an age-old speculation as to how our feelings compared with humans'. Hate we could understand, but we all wondered about love. Was there really such a thing, or did humans the world over lie to each other every time they said it? I didn't believe that. I knew I could become very fond of things over a period of time. Was that love? A strong fondness? There was no way of knowing, was there? Unless one could figure out how to be human for a long enough period of time, I didn't know, and I didn't know anyone who did.
"One of life's little mysteries," said Tuvoon.
"Nonsense," said Viss. "Kai Wren loved that old Irishman like a brother."
"You think what I felt was really love?"
"I do." . "Never thought of it that way."
She shrugged.
"I've miles to go," she said.
"Me too," I responded.
We rose. I paid the tab, we stepped outside and faded into the night.
I stopped by my bottle to clean and rack Tuvoon's spirit blade and to pick up a few items.
I swirled my cloak the gray of all my other garments, finishing the lot with a dusting of starlight. The boots I wore came to mid-thigh, and I wore a standard blade at my side. I permitted myself one touch of colorЧa red feather in my cap. Then I pushed the cap back on my head at a rakish angle.
Pleased with the effect, I made my way out into the world of humans, slipped over to a traveling plane, and commenced flying through the sparkling twilight, past ghostly dolmens and ruined castles. No one lived in them. They were by way of mirages, created by the life force of this place in mimicry of the Earth.
After a time, I came to the ground, found a small sphere in a hollow tree by a crossroads. I withdrew it, opened it, and studied its contents. It was a representation of the Earth, and a twinkling line across the Atlantic showed that I was nearing Ireland. I replaced the sphere and sped on. Shortly, I had a feeling that I was over land. I climbed higher into the air and spread my senses wide.
There. Ahead. A nonhuman mind hovered above a hilltop.
"Hello," I greeted, and adjusted my course to meet it. It said nothing, but simply regarded my approach. When I was at a respectful distance, I halted.
"And what might you be up to?" it asked.
"I've a story to tell and a need of the right man to tell it to."
"Well, Ireland is full of stories. One more won't hurt. Come join me. Where did you learn to speak the Irish?"
"From my servant, Oliver O'Keefe."