"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 1 - Black Sun Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

changed the face of Nature for your own benefit? Or dreamed of doing so?”
 “I’m as human as you are,” Damien answered curtly. “We all have our
temptations. But our ability to rise above them - to serve an ideal, rather than
the dictates of selfish instinct - is what defines us as a species.”
“Ah, yes.” The Patriarch nodded. “The Prophet’s words. He failed us, you’ll
recall. And himself. As have all men, who tried to reconcile sorcery with our faith.
Remember that.”
He walked to the heavy mahogova chair and sat down in it, smoothing the
folds of his robe beneath him as he did so. And he sighed. “You’ll have your
students, Reverend Vryce. Against my better judgment and despite my
objections, but you’ll have them. A dozen of our most promising acolytes -
chosen not because they have great sorcerous potential, but because their
theological background is sound. You will not reach out beyond that group until
I’m satisfied that this . . . experiment . . . can proceed without danger to my
charges. Or my Church. Am I making myself clear?”
Damien bowed, and managed not to grin. Barely. “Very clear, Holiness.”
He clapped his hands twice. Barely a few seconds later the door swung
open, and a young girl in servant’s livery entered.
“This is Kami. She’ll get you settled in. Kami, take Reverend Vryce to the
rooms that have been prepared for him. See that he has a schedule of our
services, and anything he needs for tonight. Breakfast is in the Annex, at eight,”
he informed Damien. “A chance to meet the rest of our staff under slightly less .
. . trying circumstances.” His mouth twitched slightly; a smile? “Is that too early
for you?”
“I’ll manage it, Holiness.”
The Patriarch nodded to Kami, a clear gesture of dismissal. Damien gathered
up his pack and turned to follow her - but when they reached the door the
Patriarch called his name softly, and he turned back.
“When it comes time to die,” the Patriarch said, “- and the time will come, as
it comes to all men - what will you do then? Bow down to Nature, to the patterns
of Earth-life which are the core of our very existence? Help us to lay a foundation
whereby our descendants can reclaim the stars? Or submit to the temptations of
this alien magic, and sell your soul for another few years of life? As the Prophet
tried to do? Consider that as you retire, Reverend Vryce.”
It was clearly a dismissal, but Damien stood his ground. “The fae isn’t
magic.”
The Patriarch waved one ringed hand, dismissing the thought. “Semantic
exercises. What’s the real difference?”
“Magic can be controlled,” Damien reminded him. He gave that a moment to
sink in, then added, “Isn’t that what Erna’s problem is all about?”
And he bowed - with only a hint of defiance. “I’ll consider it. Holiness. Good
night.”
 Three

The sun had set.
Narilka stood in the shop’s narrow doorway, eyes fixed on the western
horizon. She was cold inside, just as the night was cold without. The sun had set
while she was downstairs. Long ago, by the looks of it. How could she; have
been so careless?
The stars were almost gone.