"Stephen Goldin - Storyteller" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

 Hakem Rafi the thief turned away from Aeshma to hide the bitterness in his soul. He had seldom thought
about death before, merely tried to avoid it; he'd always thought himself too clever to be caught and
executed, too skilled to lose any fight he didn't dodge. But now that he had everything, now that the
world could be his if he chose, the irony that he could lose it all was a painful one. In a thousand years,
would he be as forgotten as the great Rashwenath, a name never spoken, a presence never felt? What,
then, would be the point of living at all, if everything was to vanish from him?

He must have voiced the question aloud without realizing it, for Aeshma answered in soft, seductive
tones, “The answer, O my master, is to live as fully and as best you can. If it is all destined to vanish
tomorrow, then enjoy it to the utmost today. At your command I can shower you with a thousand,
thousand pleasures, with wealth beyond imagining, so when death does come it will find you with not a
moment wasted, not a second left unenjoyed. Your days will be filled with delight and your nights will be
rich with satisfactions most men dare not even dream of. Rashwenath is dead, and his glory with him, but
it is said he never regretted a single moment of the life he lived. So let it be with you."

Hakem Rafi listened to the daeva's arguments, and they struck a chord in the thief's greedy soul. It was
true that no man was granted immortality—but he, Hakem Rafi, had been granted more than any man
could wish. Yes, he would bury himself in sensual pleasure and live as Aeshma suggested. He would
have food, wine, women, power, and revenge on all those who'd belittled or insulted him, and he would
not think of death again. It would come—but the object of life, as Aeshma had explained, was to have no
regrets, no sorrows. When death did come, it would find Hakem Rafi happy and contented. No man
could ask for more than that.

“Yes,” he said aloud. “You're right, my wise slave. I'll wear you down in your efforts to please me."

“Whatever you command shall be yours,” Aeshma replied.

“First prepare a feast of a breakfast, then take the woman back to the wali before she is missed,”
Hakem Rafi said. “Perhaps I'll enjoy her again sometime to beget more sons. When you return, we'll talk
in more detail about the pleasures you can provide me."

“I hear and I obey."

The daeva escorted Hakem Rafi into an ornate dining hall where a breakfast meal as sumptuous as last
night's dinner was spread before him. Then Aeshma vanished and scooped up the still-sleeping woman to
fly her safely back to her home. He could not help a deep -throated chuckle as he went, thinking of how
completely this foolish mortal was falling under his control.

Aeshma was a prideful being, and it chafed him sorely to be bound by oath to anyone but his lord
Rimahn, let alone a petty mortal like Hakem Rafi. But bad though that was, being trapped and impotent
in a golden urn before the fires of Oromasd for thousands of years had been even worse, a constant,
searing torment that he was now relieved of.

Hakem Rafi was a mortal. Even without Aeshma's killing him, he would die. At most, he could be
expected to live another forty years. If, at Aeshma's gentle insistence, he overindulged in food, wine,
drugs, and sex, his life span might be diminished that much further. What were a few more decades to a
creature who'd waited millennia for his freedom?

When Hakem Rafi died, Aeshma would be totally free—free to regain all his lost power, free to war
against mankind, free to avenge himself on the enemy in the name of his lord Rimahn. There would be no