"Fritz Leiber - Gather, Darkness!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leiber Fritz)

The slow-looking blow did not seem to reach its mark, but Chulian tumbled down and rolled
over twice. Even as he rolled, his robe stood out between him and the ground, as if he were inside a
red rubber ball.
Again Jarles slapped his own chest. His robe went limp and his halo vanished. And in that
instant his anger exploded hotly, burning the mask of hypocrisy from his face.
Let them blast him! Let them blind and deafen him with excommunication! Let them drag him
screaming to the crypts below the Sanctuary! The Hierarchy had seen fit to let him go mad without
interfering. Very well, then! They would have a taste of his madness!

He sprang onto the bench and held up his hands for attention.
“Commoners of Megatheopolis!”
That checked the beginnings of a panicky flight. Eyes turned to stare at him stupidly. They had
not yet begun to comprehend what had happened. But when a priest spoke, one listened.
“You have been taught that ignorance is good. I tell you it is evil!
“You have been taught that to think is evil. I tell you it is good!
“You have been told that it is your destiny to toil night and day, until your backs ache to
breaking and your hands blister under the calluses. I tell you it is the destiny of all men to look for
easier ways!
“You have let the priests rule your lives. I tell you that you must rule yourselves!
“You believe that the priests have supernatural powers. I tell you they have no powers you could
not wield yourselves!
“You believe that the priests are chosen to serve the Great God and transmit his commands.
But—if there is a god anywhere—each one of you, in his ignorant heart, knows more of him than
the mightiest archpriest.
“You have been told that the Great God rules the universe—earth and sky. I tell you the Great
God is a fake!”
Like whiplashes, the short, sharp sentences flicked into the corners of the Great Square, turned
all eyes toward him. The words were not understood, except that they were very different from
what the priests ever said. They frightened. They almost hurt. But they tugged irresistibly.
Everywhere—even in the work queues—commoners looked at the nearest priest, and getting no
contradictory order, trotted over toward Jarles.
 And Jarles now looked around him in bewilderment. He had expected to be silenced almost at
once. His sole object had been to say as much as he could, or rather to let his anger say whatever it
wanted to in its brief moment of freedom.
But the blow did not fall. No priest made a move toward him, or acted as if anything out of the
ordinary were happening. And his unquenched anger continued to speak for him.
“Commoners of Megatheopolis, what I am going to ask you to do is hard. Harder than work in
the mines, though I won’t ask you to lift a finger. I want you to listen to what I say, to weigh my
words for truth, to make a judgment as to the worth of what I tell you, and then to act on that
judgment. You hardly know what all that means, but you must try to do it, nevertheless! To weigh
my words for truth? That’s to see how they square with what you’ve seen happen in your private
lives—not what you’ve been told. To make a judgment? That’s to decide whether or not you want
something, after you’ve learned what it is. I know the priests have told you all that is wrong. Forget
the priests! Forget I wear the scarlet robe. And listen, listen!”
Now surely the blow must fall! They wouldn’t let him say any more! Involuntarily he looked up
at the form of the Great God. But that serene idol was taking no more notice of what was happening
in the square than a human being might take of a swarming of ants around a bit of sugar.
“You all know the story of the Golden Age,” he was already saying, his voice now richly vibrant
with secrets to unfold. “You hear it every time you go to the Cathedral. How the Great God gave
divine powers to all men, so that they lived as in paradise, without toil or sorrow. How men grew