"Bova, Ben - Orion 04 - Orion and the Conquerer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bova Ben)

"Of course he did." Olympias smiled knowingly.
"But the Persians aren't threatening us," Alexandros said. "Their new king is struggling to hold his empire together. They have no intention of invading us."
"Little matter. People remember the tales of their grandfathers, and their grandfathers before them. The Persians have invaded us in times past; they all know that. Even today the Persians control the Greek cities of Ionia and interfere in our politics, paying one city to war against another, keeping us weak and divided. Only by crushing the Persian Empire can cities such as Athens be truly free."
Alexandros gaped at her. At last he said, "You could be a better orator than Demosthenes himself."
Olympias smiled and patted her son on his golden curls. "Philip has an army. Demosthenes has a cause. You can have both."
"To conquer the Persian Empire." Alexandros breathed the words, inhaled the idea like heady perfume. "To conquer the world!"
Still smiling, Olympias turned to me. "Orion, I have a command for you."
I knew that I must obey.
"This is my son," she said. "You will protect him at all times against all his enemies. Including the man who believes himself to be his father."
"Against Philip?" I asked.
"Against Philip and anyone else who would stand in his way," Olympias said to me.
"I understand."
Abruptly she turned back to Alexandros, still sitting there musing about conquering the world. "Be patient. Learn from the One-Eyed Fox himself. Bide your time. But when the moment finally comes, be prepared to strike."
"I will, mother," said Alexandros fervently. "I will."
Olympias dismissed me as soon as Alexandros left. I went to my barracks bed that night with my thoughts in a swirl. I owed my allegiance to Philip, yet Olympias had commanded me to protect Alexandros even against Philip himself. What did she fear? What did she plan?
I forced myself to sleep, willed myself to dream. Once again I found myself on the sunny hillside overlooking the magnificent city by the sea. It sat beneath its glittering dome of energy, looking totally empty, completely abandoned.
The woman I loved had lived there once. The woman I knew as Athena. Anya was her true name, or as true a name as any of the Creators possessed. They were far beyond the need for names, even the need for words. They were as far beyond mortal human form as the stars are beyond my reach.
The Creators. I remembered the word, the concept. One of them had created me. Hera had called me a creature, a being created by—by the Golden One, Aten. I remembered that much. My memory was slowly returning. Or were the Creators merely allowing me to remember some things so that I could serve them better?
Determined to learn more, I started walking toward the glowing city.
Only to find myself in my rumpled bed in the barracks at Pella, sunlight beaming through the high windows and roosters crowing in the distance.

Chapter 9
"Do you think you could make a good spy for me?" Philip asked.
I had been summoned into his work room. The trestle table was bare, except for a pile of scrolls in one corner. There were no servants, no wine.
"A spy?" I blurted.
"Why not?" Philip mused aloud, leaning back in his leather sling-chair. "The best spies are men who seem to be part of the background, men who are not noticed by the people they're spying on. Or women, of course, but that's something else altogether."
I stood at attention before him, not knowing what to say.
"Don't look so miserable, Orion," the king said with a crooked grin. "I'm not asking you to sneak around and pry into locked rooms."
"I don't understand, sir."
He scratched at his beard. Then, "I am sending Aristotle to Athens as an informal diplomat, to make contact with the men there who are against Demosthenes and in favor of making peace with me. He will need an escort. I would like you to head his escort."
"Yes, sir," I replied. "But spying?"
He laughed. "Just keep your eyes and ears open. See everything. Listen to everyone. Remember it all and tell it to me when you return. That's what spying is."
I felt relieved. I could do that easily enough. And to leave Pella would mean leaving Olympias and her witch's spell over me. I felt far more than relieved over that. Philip dismissed me after telling me that Aristotle would depart the following morning. But as I started for the door I realized that this mission would take me away from Alexandros. What of the task Olympias gave me to protect her son?
"By the way," Philip called before I could reach the door latch. "My son will be going with you. He's never seen Athens. Neither have I, for that matter."
I turned back to the king.
"He'll have a few of his Companions with him. They'll be travelling incognito—if that young hothead can manage to keep his mouth shut, that is." He sighed like a worried father. "I want you to take special care of him, Orion. He is the future of this kingdom."
I must have smiled foolishly, for Philip looked surprised. Then he grinned back at me. As I left him I felt an immense sense of relief. Philip meant no harm to his son. He wanted me to protect Alexandros just as much as Olympias did. And Olympias must have known of this mission to Athens last night. Perhaps it was all her idea, to have her son see Athens, and Philip was just as much of a pawn in her hands as I was. Perhaps I would not be out of her grasp even in distant Athens.
Still, I felt a new sense of freedom once we had left Pella behind us. The crisp air of the open fields and wooded hills was like wine to me. The sky was bright and clean; the intrigues and intricacies of the capital faded away as we rode our mounts along the trail that wound through the rising, rocky countryside.
The trip turned into a travelling school. Aristotle had been Alexandros' tutor until just about a year ago, and now as we rode our horses across the hills and through the mountain passes heading southward, the gnomish old man became engrossed with every fold of the land, every bird and beast and insect, every blade of grass or burr of thistle.
He sent Alexandros and his Companions scurrying across the countryside collecting samples of everything from grass seeds to rocks. Hephaistion, who seemed especially close to Alexandros, got himself half-killed by wasp stings when he tried to collect a sample of the nest they had constructed in a dead tree. Aristotle tended the lad himself with mudpacks and soothing ointments, all the while telling us that his father had been a physician and had been bitterly disappointed when Aristotle did not follow in his footsteps.
I had expected the old man to travel in one of the wagons, but he rode horseback as the rest of us did. The servants, of course, rode mules. We had hired professional teamsters to handle the ever-increasing number of wagons in our train.
The high road south wound its way through the rocky Vale of Tempe, between Ossa and craggy Mount Olympos, its lofty peak already gleaming with snow.
"The abode of the gods," said Aristotle to me as we rode through the brisk autumn morning. Brittle dead leaves strewed the trail; our horses snorted steam in the early chill.
"Only in legend," I replied.
He looked up at me, his brow furrowed. "You don't believe in the gods?"
I must have made a bitter little smile. "I believe in them, but they don't live up there in the cold. They take better care of themselves than that."
Aristotle shook his head. "Remarkable. For a man who has no memory, Orion, you seem very certain of your knowledge about the gods' residence."
"We could climb the mountain," I said, "and see for ourselves if the gods are living up there."
He laughed. "See for ourselves! Very good, Orion. Very good. The essence of truth is knowledge gained by examination. I'll make a philosopher of you yet!"
"The essence of truth," I muttered.