"C. S. Friedman - In Conquest Born" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

IN CONQUEST BORN
C.S. FRIEDMAN
Copyright © 1986 by C.S. Friedman.
ISBN: 0-88677-198-6
e-book ver 1.0



To my parents and my brother, whose pride makes it all worth doing.

For ease of comprehension in the English text, all Braxin words have been rendered in the Basic Mode
regardless of context.




One
BEGINNING:
1
He stands like a statue, perfect in arrogance. Because his people love bright colors he wears only gray
and black; because they revere comfort, he is dressed uncomfortably. His people are flamboyant, and
display their bodies with aggressive sexuality; he is entirely concealed by his costume. Tight-fitting gloves
and boots cover his extremities and a high collar conceals his neck. His skin is as pale as human skin can
be, but even that is not enough—cosmetics have been layered over his natural complexion until a mask of
white conceals his skin from the prying eyes of commoners. Only his hair is uncovered, a rich mass of true
black, as eloquent as a crown in proclaiming his right to power. It is moderate in length because another
people, enemy to his own, wear their hair long; his beard and mustache are likewise traditional— the men
of that other race do not have facial hair.
He is very tired. And he will not show it.
The tiny shuttle spirals downward, from the orbiting Cita-del to the center of Braxi's largest continent.
Inside there is only one compartment; Vinir shares it with his servant, who operates the vehicle. For the
lesser man's benefit he main-tains the image of racial superiority which is as much a part of him as the
black and gray he always wears and the ancestral sword at his side. Let the servant observe that he is not
tired—he is never tired—the situation does not exist which can tire him. Now and then he catches the man
glanc-ing at him, when he thinks he is not being observed. What is he wondering now? Vinir muses. Is the
man human after all? Or perhaps: Can it be true that we are members of the same race? The answer
to either question will, hopefully, be negative.
"If you desire to sit. Lord. . . ."
"I am content."
In truth, he is exhausted. His nation, embracing war at every opportunity, is less than efficient during
peacetime, and in such periods the government is the most crippled of all. This day was bad enough, trying
to sort out domestic prob-lems without the excuse of military priority to use when it was convenient. Then,
just as the Kaim'eri were about to leave, Miyar chose to introduce the current Peace for review. That
meant at least a tenth of dreary emotional confrontations and a thorough rehashing of historic precedent
before they could even begin to discuss the real issue: when—and how— the current treaty with Azea
should be broken.
Fools! Vinir thinks. Someday the moment will be right, so unexpected or so profitable that we will
know, simply know, the time has come. That's how we've always functioned—why-pretend that it's
different?
 It is very late. Vinir is grateful when the shuttle slows to a perfect landing outside his house. He nods his