"David Eddings - The Dreamers 02 - The Treasured One" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

things, those farmers more closely resemble the mindless servants of the Vlagh than
they do real people.

You don’t necessarily need to tell Aracia or Veltan that I just said that.



Where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember. I’m fairly certain that it was farming that
ultimately led to religion in Aracia’s Domain. Once the spring planting is finished, a
farmer really has nothing significant to do until harvesting in the autumn, and that
gives him far too much time for speculation. As long as people concentrate on such
things as what they are going to eat tomorrow or how they’re going to avoid freezing
to death when winter rolls around again, there’s a certain practicality in their lives.
It’s when the people have enough free time to begin asking such questions as ‘Who
am I?’ or ‘How did I get here?’ that things start getting wormy.

I’ve periodically ranged out beyond the Land of Dhrall to observe the progress of
the outlanders, and I’ve noticed that the more intelligent ones spend a lot of their time
brooding about mysterious gods. That isn’t necessary here in the Land of Dhrall, of
course, since it’s very likely that the god of any particular region lives just over the
hill or down the street.

Some of the people of Aracia’s Domain saw a glorious opportunity there. Aracia
could tamper with the weather, if she chose to, and that produced abundant crops, and
the displays of gratitude of her subject people were usually grossly overdone. Had
one of my people gone to such extremes, I’d have laughed in the fool’s face.

Aracia, however really enjoyed all the groveling and excessive displays of
gratitude. Deep down, Aracia adores being adored. I’d been the first of our family to
awaken during this cycle, so I was nominally in charge of things this time. Aracia had
been the second to awaken, but deep in her heart she yearns to be first, so she
encourages her people to continue their overdone displays of gratitude, and the more
clever among them, sensing that need, exaggerate their thanks to the level of
absurdity, erecting temples and altars, and prostrating themselves each time she
passes.

Aracia thinks that’s awfully nice of them.

Aracia’s need for adoration has attracted many of the less industrious men of her
domain, and over the years this has produced a sizeable town, and that in turn has
brought assorted tradesmen to the place. I’m sure that Aracia’s temple-town is the
closest thing to a city in the entire Land of Dhrall. The large stone buildings are
covered with a white plaster and their roofs are made of red tile. The narrow streets
have been paved over with large flagstones, and the town is at least a mile wide.

At the very center, of course, is Aracia’s enormous temple with gleaming white
spires reaching up toward the sky. To be perfectly honest, the whole place seems just
a little silly to me.

When my thunderbolt deposited me in Aracia’s marble-pillared throne-room, her