"Asimov, Isaac - 2. Foundation and Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

they call liberty and autonomy. Eventually the matter might become a danger to
the State."
The old man shook his head. "Why ask me? Do you smell rebellion, with myself at
the head?"
Riose shrugged, "Never. Never. Oh, it is not a thought completely ridiculous.
Your father was an exile in his day; you yourself a patriot and a chauvinist in
yours. It is indelicate in me as a guest to mention it, but my business here
requires it. And yet a conspiracy now? I doubt it. Siwenna has had the spirit
beat out of it these three generations."
The old man replied with difficulty, "I shall be as indelicate a host as you a
guest. I shall remind you that once a viceroy thought as you did of the
spiritless Siwennians. By the orders of that viceroy my father became a fugitive
pauper, my brothers martyrs, and my sister a suicide. Yet that viceroy died a
death sufficiently horrible at the hands of these same slavish Siwennians."
"Ah, yes, and there you touch nearly on something I could wish to say. For three
years the mysterious death of that viceroy has been no mystery to me. There was
a young soldier of his personal guard whose actions were of interest. You were
that soldier, but there is no need of details, I think."
Barr was quiet. "None. What do you propose?"
"That you answer my questions."
"Not under threats. I am old enough for life not to mean particularly overmuch."
"My good sir, these are hard times," said Riose, with meaning, "and you have
children and friends. You have a country for which you have mouthed phrases of
love and folly in the past. Come, if I should decide to use force, my aim would
not be so poor as to strike you."
Barr said coldly, "What do you want?"
Riose held the empty cup as he spoke. "Patrician, listen to me. These are days
when the most successful soldiers are those whose function is to lead the dress
parades that wind through the imperial palace grounds on feast days and to
escort the sparkling pleasure ships that carry His Imperial Splendor to the
summer planets. I ... I am a failure. I am a failure at thirty-four, and I shall
stay a failure. Because, you see, I like to fight.
"That's why they sent me here. I'm too troublesome at court. I don't fit in with
the etiquette. I offend the dandies and the lord admirals, but I'm too good a
leader of ships and men to be disposed of shortly be being marooned in space. So
Siwenna is the substitute. It's a frontier world; a rebellious and a barren
province. It is far away, far enough away to satisfy all.
"And so I moulder. There are no rebellions to stamp down, and the border
viceroys do not revolt lately, at least, not since His Imperial Majesty's late
father of glorious memory made an example of Mountel of Paramay."
"A strong Emperor," muttered Barr.
"Yes, and we need more of them. He is my master; remember that. These are his
interests I guard."
Barr shrugged unconcernedly. "How does all this relate to the subject?"
"I'll show you in two words. The magicians I've mentioned come from beyond-out
there beyond the frontier guards, where the stars are scattered thinly–"
"'Where the stars are scattered thinly,"' quoted Barr, "'And the cold of space
seeps in."'
"Is that poetry?" Riose frowned. Verse seemed frivolous at the moment. "In any
case, they're from the Periphery – from the only quarter where I am free to