"Dragonlance - Deathgate 6 - Into The Labyrinth - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

"Yes, I forgot there were two. What about this other prisoner? Is he a bodyguard? Samah's son?"

"Hardly that, My Lord." Marit smiled, shook her head. "I'm not even certain he's a Sartan. If he is, he's deranged. Odd," she added, thoughtfully, "but if he were a Patryn, I would say he suffers from Labyrinth sickness."

"Probably an act. If the man was mad, which I doubt, the Sartan would never permit him to be seen in public. It might harm their status as demigods. What does he call himself?"

"A bizarre name. Zifnab."

"Zifnab!" Xar pondered. "I've heard that before . . . Bane spoke . . . Yes, in regard to—" Casting a sharp look at Marit, Xar shut his mouth. "My Lord?"

"Nothing important, Daughter. I was thinking out loud. Ah, I see we are nearing our destination."

"Here is the cell of Samah, My Lord." Marit gave the man inside a cool, dispassionate glance. "I will return to guard our other prisoner."

"I think the other will get along well enough on his own," Xar suggested mildly. "Why not keep our snaky friend company?" He motioned with his head back toward the opening of the cellblock tunnels, where Sang-drax stood watching them. "I do not want to be disturbed in my conversation with the Sartan."

"I understand, My Lord." Marit bowed and left, walking back down the long, dark corridor flanked by rows of empty cells.

Xar waited until she had reached the end and was speaking to the dragon-snake. When the red eye turned upon Marit and away from Xar, the Lord of the Nexus approached the prison cell and looked inside.

Samah, head of the Sartan governing body known as the Council of Seven, was—in terms of years—far older than Xar. Yet because of his magical sleep—one which had been supposed to last only a decade but had inadvertently lasted centuries—Samah was a man in the prime of middle age.

Strong, tall, he had once had hard, chiseled features and a commanding air. Now the sallow skin sagged from

INTO THE LABYRINTH

21

his bones; the muscles hung loose and flaccid. The face, which should have been lined with wisdom and experience, was creviced, haggard, and drawn. Samah sat listlessly on the cold stone bed, his head and shoulders bowed in dejection, despair. His robes, his skin were sopping wet.

Xar clasped his hands around the bars, drew close for a better look. The Lord of the Nexus smiled.

"Yes," he said softly, "you know what fate awaits you, don't you, Samah? There is nothing quite as bad as the fear, the anticipation. Even when the pain comes—and your death will be very painful, Sartan, I assure you—it won't be as bad as the fear."

Xar gripped the bars harder. The blue sigla tattooed on the backs of his gnarled hands were stretched taut; the enlarged knuckles were as white as exposed bone. He could scarcely draw breath; for long moments he couldn't speak. He had not thought to feel such passion in the presence of his enemy, but suddenly all the years—years of battle and suffering, years of fear—returned to him.

"I wish"—Xar almost choked on his words—"I wish I could let you live a long, long time, Samah! I wish I could let you live with that fear, as my people have lived with it. I wish I could let you live centuries!"

The iron bars dissolved beneath Xar's squeezing hands. He never noticed. Samah had not raised his head, did not look up at his tormentor. He sat in the same attitude, but now his hands clenched.

Xar entered the cell, stood over him.

"You can't escape the fear, never for a moment. Not even in sleep. It's there in your dreams. You run and run and run until you think your heart must burst and then you wake and you hear the terrifying sound that woke you and you get up and you run and run and run ... all the time knowing it is hopeless. The claw, the tooth, the arrow, the fire, the bog, the pit will claim you in the end.

"Our babies suck fear in their mother's milk. Our babies don't cry. From the moment of birth, they're taught to keep quiet—out of fear. Our children do not laugh either. Who knows who might be listening?

"You have a son, I am told. A son who laughs and cries. A son who calls you 'Father,' a son who smiles like his mother."

A shiver crawled over Samah's body. The lord didn't