"Philip Jose Farmer - Night of Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

and would hate himself for breaking down and asking Carmody what he had to tell. But
he would break; he would ask. There was too much at stake.
“Well, well, what is it?” he finally snapped. “Can’t you say over the phone?”
“Sure, but I wasn’t going to bother if you weren’t interested. Listen, about five
minutes ago did anything strange happen to you or to anybody around you?”
There was another long pause, then Skelder said in a strained voice, “Yes. The sun
seemed to flicker, to change color. I became dizzy and feverish. So did Mrs. Kri, and
Father Ralloux.”
Carmody waited until he was sure that the monk was not going to comment any
further. “Was that all? Did nothing else happen to you or the others?”
“No. Why?”
Carmody told him about the skin of the unfinished face that had seemed to appear
from the empty air before him. “I thought perhaps you might have had a similar
experience.”
“No; aside from the sick feeling, nothing happened.”
Carmody thought he detected a huskiness in Skelder’s voice. Well, he would find out
later if the monk were concealing something. Meanwhile. . .
Suddenly, Skelder said, “Mrs. Kri has left the room. What is it you really wanted,
Carmody?”
“I really wanted to compare notes about that flickering of the sun,” he replied, crisply.
“But I thought I’d tell you something of what I found out in the temple of Boonta.”
“You ought to have found out just about everything,” interrupted Skelder. “You were
gone long enough. When you didn’t show up last night, I thought that perhaps something
had happened to you.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“No, of course not,” the monk’s voice crackled. “Do you think that because I’m a
priest I’m stupid? Besides, I hardly think you’re worth worrying about.”
 Carmody chuckled. “Love they fellowman as a brother. Well, I never cared much for
my brother—or anybody else. Anyway, the reason I’m late, though only twenty hours or
so behind time, is that I decided to take part in the big parade and the ceremonies that
followed.” He laughed again. “These Kareenans really enjoy their religion.”
Skelder’s voice was cold. “You took part in a temple orgy?”
Carmody haw-hawed. “Sure. When in Rome, you know. However, it wasn’t pure
sensuality. Part of it was a very boring ritual, like all ritual; it wasn’t until nightfall that
the high priestess gave the signal for the melee.”
“You took part?”
“Sure. With the high priestess herself. It’s all right; these people don’t have your
attitude towards sex, Skelder; they don’t think it’s dirty or a sin; they regard it as a
sacrament, a great gift from the goddess; what would seem to you infinitely disgusting,
wallowing in a mire of screaming sex-fiends, is to them pure and chaste and goddess-
blessed worship. Of course, I think your attitude and theirs are both wrong: sex is just a
force that one ought to take advantage of in other people; but I will admit that the
Kareenans’ ideas are more fun than yours.”
Skelder’s voice was that of a slightly impatient and bored teacher lecturing a not-too-
bright pupil. If he was angry, he managed to conceal it.
“You don’t understand our doctrine. Sex is not in itself a dirty or sinful force. After
all, it is the medium designated by God whereby the higher forms of life may be
perpetuated. Sex in animals is as innocent as the drinking of water. And in the holy circle
of matrimony a man and a woman may use this God-given force, may, through its sacred
and tender rapture, become one, may approach that ecstasy, or be given an intimation of