"Gray, Julia - Guardian 01 - The Dark Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

'The salves and ointments?' he queried.
'The apothecary is here,' Hacon confirmed. 'He has everything that will be needed.'
'Good,' Uzellin responded, with a nervous smile. 'Once the ceremony is over and the boy's flesh is innocent once more, we must do all we can to heal his wounds. Justice must be merciful as well as unbending.'
His deputy bowed his head in acknowledgement, then opened the bulky tome he was carrying and consulted it again.
'Master, may I clarify a point?'
Uzellin nodded, but he was not looking at the other man. His gaze was moving distractedly from the brazier to the lashing pole to the crowd, and back again.
'It says here,' Hacon said, tracing a line of text with his finger, 'that the subject of the ritual has the right to make a public statement once his purification is complete, so that he may either deny or confess his possession.'
The Chief Underseer looked annoyed. He had noted the same thing earlier.
'Yes, well, I think we may safely dispense with such a pointless interlude, don't you?' he muttered. 'It says the subject may make a statement if he requests the opportunity to do so. Otherwise, he is assumed to have waived his right. Given his background, it seems unlikely that this boy will even be aware of such a privilege.'
'Then should we not inform him of it?' Hacon asked doubtfully.
'What purpose would that serve?' Uzellin snapped. 'There's no necessity for it. He will not ask to speak, so there is no need for him to do so.'
'But-'
'That is the end of the matter, Hacon.'
Uzellin turned away, only to find Keran, his second deputy, approaching, an agitated expression on his face.
'Master, I have grave news.'
'Keep your voice down,' the Chief Underseer whispered urgently, glancing at the nearest faces in the crowd. 'What is it?'
'I checked the calculations, as you instructed,' Keran replied. 'And . . .'
'I was in a hurry,' Uzellin said, as his deputy hesitated. 'A minor inaccuracy is of little consequence.'
'But the true dark of the Amber Moon is not until five hours after sunset tonight,' Keran said.
Uzellin frowned. His deputies were both fully trained underseers in their own right, and Keran was not likely to have made a mistake. His mathematical skills were excellent. And yet the Underseer could not believe that his own estimate had been out by a full six hours.
'I checked the figures three times,' the deputy added, proffering his workings. 'I used the tables that came with the latest proclamation from Makhaya. The Dark Moon's new orbit has affected the others. That's why-'
'I see,' Uzellin said, cutting him off, even as he cursed the Dark Moon and its mystifying changes. He hadn't even thought to incorporate that into his own calculation. 'Your exactitude does you credit, Keran, but we can't possibly wait that long.' He waved a hand at the assembled throng. 'We'd have a riot on our hands.'
'As you wish, master,' his deputy replied, looking relieved. His duty was done; it was someone else's responsibility now.
'We proceed on schedule as announced,' Uzellin stated firmly, taking a last look around. 'Tell Cadrez to bring the prisoner to us now.'
Terrel walked slowly over the timeworn stones of the square. He was limping badly, even though his captors had allowed him to keep his fitted boot, and his twisted leg threatened to buckle at every step. But he did not notice the stabbing pains that racked his body. Nor was he aware of the coolness of the day, even though he was wearing only a pair of short breeches. In fact he was perspiring, and his trembling - which he was doing his best to hide - was because he was desperately nervous. Thanks to Elam, he was aware of the ordeal he faced, unless their hastily laid - and recently amended - plans came off. Terrel had been accustomed to pain from the first day of his life, but the prospect of being branded with hot irons filled him with terror.
Ahead of him, Cadrez rode upon his regal stallion, flanked by foot soldiers who forced a corridor through the closely packed crowd. Terrel kept his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the stares of the onlookers, most of whom fell silent as he passed by. When the procession reached the stage, the seneschal turned the prisoner over to Uzellin's acolytes, then retreated a short distance, keeping a watchful eye on all around him. Terrel's escorts joined the other soldiers guarding the perimeter of the ruined shrine, as the boy was guided up onto the platform. He could now be seen by almost everyone in the throng, and a low murmuring spread through the square.
Uzellin stepped forward and, in a loud, strident voice, asked the skies for their blessing, and then told his audience that the first stage of the ceremony would be the ritual cleansing of the subject. Terrel submitted to this without protest, knowing that he had to bide his time. He was first scrubbed with a mixture of sand and oil, then doused with buckets of water, and finally scoured with smooth heart-stones. By the end of this his skin was pink and sore, but the discomfort only served to sharpen his wits. As Uzellin's deputies took hold of his arms and led him towards the stake at the centre of the stage, Terrel heard several dogs howling in the distance - and the sound gave him the courage to grasp the moment. He knew that if he allowed himself to be tied up, the chances of his escaping would be greatly reduced. As it was, there were any number of things that could go wrong. He pretended to stumble, then straightened up sharply.
'Wait!' With an effort he pulled his arms free from his startled captors, and held them high. The sudden outcry had disconcerted Hacon and Keran, but as Terrel made no effort to flee or fight, they hesitated, giving him the chance he wanted. 'I wish to make a statement, a confession!' he shouted. 'It is my right!'
The deputies glanced quickly at their master, who stood behind them, next to the brazier. Uzellin's face was burning almost as brightly as the fire. However, he controlled his temper with some difficulty, and nodded his assent.
'Go ahead,' Hacon said quietly.
Terrel let out a sigh of relief, took a single step forward, then stopped, gazing out over the heads of the crowds. The silence in the square became absolute.
Summoning the glamour, Terrel fed its power into his voice. He had never tried this before, but he'd listened to Babak perform the same trick, and instinctively knew what was needed. Make them believe, he told himself, before he opened his mouth. They want to believe.
'Uzellin is no match for me.'
The voice that emerged from his lips surprised even Terrel. It was deep and resonant, burning with contempt and filled with cruel humour. Combined with his provocative words, it created just the impact he'd been hoping for. The three underseers were frozen where they stood, while the crowd muttered and stared.
'He could not even calculate the correct time for this mockery,' Terrel went on in his new voice. 'The dark of the Amber Moon will not take place for another six hours. Look at the skies for yourselves if you don't believe me.'
A thousand pairs of eyes glanced up to the heavens, where the merest pale sliver of golden orange had just risen above the northern horizon. Fingers pointed, and the whispering grew to a sibilant wind that swirled round the arena.
'Shut him up!' Uzellin hissed desperately, but Terrel was ready for him now.
He raised his good arm in a dramatic gesture, and as the air around him glittered and flashed, Hacon and Keran hesitated. Terrel was aware of the sparkling display only in the corner of his eye - but everyone else in the square was awed by the sight. Far away, the dogs howled in unison again.
'Uzellin just wanted to put on a show, a meaningless charade,' Terrel went on quickly. 'He never really believed that I was possessed . . . But I am, and I am too strong for him!' As he spoke, the boy released the glamour from his eyes so that their true colours were revealed.
The nearest onlookers gasped. Then some of the crowd screamed as the news of the appearance of the 'demon' spread like wildfire through the square. Terrel smiled, knowing that this would increase the impact of his gaze, and thinking that Uzellin was not the only one who could put on a show. Behind him, the underseers could not understand what was happening, because the boy had not yet turned round to confront his captors.
'This exorcism is a farce!' the demon voice declared. 'I can leave this pathetic shell of a body any time I choose, and return whenever I want, regardless of what is done to it. Pain cannot touch me.'
This time, as he spoke, Terrel sensed someone else listening and watching, someone familiar and yet remote - but he had no time to wonder about this. Elam's warning sounded urgently inside his head, and he knew that the crisis point was almost upon them.
'Stay where you are, Uzellin!' he commanded, still keeping his back to the Chief Underseer. 'You see,' he told the crowd, 'I know what he is planning to do even before he does. Right now, he's standing there with a stupid look on his face, holding a brand in the shape of a snake.'
When the spectators saw that this was indeed true, their exclamations of surprise were mixed with a smattering of laughter, and Terrel knew that he was close to achieving his first objective - discrediting Uzellin. He had also convinced many of the onlookers that he was indeed possessed by a powerful demon. All that was left was to use his 'power' to escape.
For the first time, he glanced to his side, wondering where Alyssa had got to. Unless she arrived soon, he was going to run out of rhetoric.
'If he's not careful, he could do himself a nasty injury,' he remarked, provoking further amusement in the crowd. 'In fact-'
Terrel faltered, suddenly finding himself quite out of his depth. He had done nothing, but suddenly everything had changed, and he was no longer in control of his own actions. It was as though he really was possessed!
'Is this how you honour my memory?'
Although the words came from Terrel, the voice was not his own, nor was it the 'demon's'. It was just as strong and passionate, but its timbre and pitch were indisputably female.
'First you destroy my shrine, and now you desecrate the ruins with this vile shadow play.'