"George R. R. Martin - In the House of the Worm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

the House of the Worm his boast was known: that he dressed in the skin and hair of grouns he had
himself slain. He was the Meatbringer, who went alone into deep burrows without windows.

Caralee looked at him very curiously. “Why did you laugh?― she asked.

"Because your friend is funny,― the Meatbringer said. His voice was too low, too coarse. Annelyn felt
a trifle absurd, being insulted by a mottled man who grumbled in the manner of a torch-tender. And now
a curious knot of people began to gather around them; the yaga-la-hai were always interested in the
odd, and the Meatbringer was oddest of all. Besides, everyone had grown tired of viewing the sun.

"I'm always pleased to find someone who appreciates wit,― Annelyn said, studiously attempting to
turn the Meatbringer's veiled insult into a compliment.

"I do appreciate wit,― the Meatbringer said. “I wish I could find some. This masque is witless."

He had no subtlety, Annelyn decided. “Only in comparison,― he said. “You are perhaps
accustomed to delightful banter with the grouns?"

Riess giggled, and the Meatbringer smiled savagely at him. “The grouns have more wit than your
simpering friend, and more knowledge than you."

There was stifled laughter around them, whether at the absurdity of the Meatbringer's words or at the
insult, Annelyn could not be sure. “You know groun secrets, then?― he said lightly.

"They have them, yes. And I know them, yes. And more."

"The grouns are animals,― Vermyllar put in.

"As are you,― said the Meatbringer.

Vermyllar flushed. “I wear rags tonight, but only for the masque. My grandfather was a son of the
Manworm."

"Better your grandfather than you,― the Meatbringer said.

This time Caralee laughed. Annelyn looked at her, horrified that she could find humor in such coarseness.
“You mock the honor?― he said. “The great knowledge? The responsibilities?"

"I have heavier responsibilities,― the Meatbringer said in a level voice. “As do the others who try to
go down and bring back groun meat. The Manworm has only musty ritual duties that no one understands.
As to his great knowledge, I have more of that too. The yaga-la-hai know nothing of themselves or of
the House of the Worm except half-truths and distorted lies. And honor?― He gestured toward the
window. Groff, in his intricately wrought rust-dark armor, still stood stiffly with the Manworm in his arms.
Another of the bronze knights was closing the curtains; the dancing had resumed.

"Yes?― Annelyn prompted, blankly.

"The honor is all hideous pain,― the Meatbringer said, and as if to emphasize his statement, the
Manworm suddenly lifted his head and his white body began to thrash wildly in Groff's arms. “Under
the knives again and again, each time waking as less of a man. And it ends in deformity and death.