"Steve Perry - The Man Who Never Missed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

The tall figure in gray nodded. "Ah. Relampago. You are blessed, pilgrim."

Khadaji didn't know the word; however, he was certain that the man was going
to tell him what it meant.

He did. "The Cosmic Flash, the Existential Lightning, the Finger of
God—Relampago. There are people who labor a lifetime hoping for that touch,
sweating through postures and prayers and complex rituals."

"I'm not sure that's what happened to me—"

"Oh, it is, pilgrim. It shows. You are producing psychic energy like a kirlian
flare. Anyone with any sensitivity could see it. Even a blind man could feel
it through the pores of his skin." The man in gray shook his head and Khadaji
knew he was smiling, even though he could not see his face. "I'm the current
Pen," he said, "and this tent I wear marks me as a member of the Holy Order of
the Siblings of the Shroud."
"You're a priest?"

"Close enough. It's a bit more complicated than that, but the designation is
sufficient."

Khadaji thought for a few seconds. "You said you were the current Pen. Is that
a name or a title?"

"My name. Pens come and Pens go, and it is my lot to be the Pen of the moment.
When I am gone, another will take the name and carry on. There is never more
than one of us at a time."

Khadaji understood. A week ago, it would have sounded weird, but now it made
perfect sense. Though he couldn't have said why, exactly, he knew it did.

"What can I do for you, then, Pen?"

Pen moved his hands so that the palms faced the sky. "It is I who is to do for
you, pilgrim."

"My name is Khadaji. Emile Khadaji."

"Ah. Well, Emile Khadaji, I am, among other things, a teacher. Can you tell me
of your vision?"

Khadaji smiled. He shook his head. "There are no words for the feeling," he
said. "The best I have come up with is that I felt and heard and saw and
smelled and tasted a sense of... tightness. Of order, of unfolding as it
should be."

"Ah. And how did this vision come to be?"

Khadaji told Pen of the slaughter. He left none of it out. When he finished,