"Ann Durand - Flight of the Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Durand Ann)

"I'm not leaving Parallon," she announced again, quietly.

Mikolen sighed, as if he were summoning the patience to argue with a child. "Last night…I thought I
explained it to you. You can do nothing for your people. You must save yourself. Do you want to return
to a life where your thoughts can be policed at any time? Where you must obey the commands of
someone you can't even see? Can you find happiness in a life like that? When everyone around you is
just as miserable?"

"No, I cannot find happiness in that life. But I would rather live it for rest of my days-in misery if I
must-and stay with my family and my people. I'd rather do that than live in complete freedom with
strangers. Besides," she said, lowering her voice, "you will help me free my people. Won't you? You can
remove the Voice from their heads." She touched her forehead. "Like you did for me."

Mikolen's head drooped. When he lifted it again, he looked exasperated.

"Do you realize how impossible that would be? As soon as Askinadon got wind of it-and he'd get wind
of it real quick-he'd have his Kastaks and rocsadons and takataks swoop down into your village like ants
on syrup." Mikolen paused and crossed his arms. "And, in a heartbeat, he'd have new discs installed in
the foreheads of every one of you."

Katera sat down in a wooden chair against the cave wall and paused to think. She had learned last night
that Askinadon was not a god. He was merely a man-and a bad one at that-a murderer from Mikolen's
world. Mikolen had called this world Earth. Both men had come from Earth and arrived in Parallon by
way of a special device that had allowed them to disappear from one place and reappear in another. It
had been destroyed in a struggle that ensued after they arrived in Katera's world. Katera didn't
understand how any of it was possible, but she felt certain she had heard the truth. Throughout his tale,
her Lan Ma Ke had glowed like a torch. When she looked back at Mikolen, he'd cocked his head to
one side as he studied her.

"You know that each family in your village makes an annual pilgrimage to your altar, right?" he asked.
"The…uh, Kopa…Kopa…"

"Kopa Na An," Katera finished. "My people have used the altar for centuries. Before Askinadon arrived,
we prayed there and left gifts for Lupana, the Goddess of the Moon who reigns over us."

"Yeah, Kopa Na An. That's the place," Mikolen said, nodding. "It is at the altar that the Kastaks insert
the disc into your foreheads. It's a simple, painless procedure. Not a single drop of blood is shed. They
use a sophisticated surgical instrument called an Insertech to imbed it."

"I don't remember a surgic…sur…the Insertech thing. When our families were summoned to the altars,
we chanted and paid tribute to Askinadon, then we received a blessing from him, with the Fortune
Maker. It's this grey, oval thing about…" Katera held her hands a foot apart. "…this big, and it has a
handle. The Kastak would place the end of it right here." She raised a finger to her forehead and froze.

Ma Lan Kena Lupana. Merciful Lupana. That's it. Her hand fell from her face. Mikolen watched
her, grinning broadly.

"Yep. And that's no Fortune Maker, at least not a maker of happy fortunes. The grey, oval thing as you
describe it, is the Insertech, the instrument that empowers Askinadon to be what he is. With it, he inserts
and activates the Voice, along with its living hell, into your thoughts. He used it to insert a disc into the