"Ian Prater - New Promise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Prater Ian)

Grevien Derleth lay in an aching, sopping heap at the end of a rain soaked New Promise alley. U'buru,
the swarthy ogress, had done some of her best work on his ribs and chest. Just breathing was reminder
enough not to get involved in politics of any sort, particularly where Governor Shadwell didn't want you.

Politics. Gang warfare by another name. Grevien snorted into the mud without thinking. He felt it speckle
the only clean part of his face. Why shouldn't he be dirty? Everything and everyone in New Promise was.
That's the way it had always been and that's the way it needed to be.

Dirt was his bread and butter. There was always someone willing to buy good dirt, and Grevien made a
decent living finding little secrets out and then selling them off to the highest bidder.

He forced his body into a wobbly crouch.Nothing broken at least. He straightened up, grunting
involuntarily.Maybe a cracked rib or two . He'd lived through worse: the island province had a
bottomless supply of worse.

New Promise rarely lived up to its name for the hordes of settlers still arriving every week by steamboat,
clipper, and zeppelin. All speaking races were welcome, according to the late Duke of Phrydd's charter:
humans, elves, orcs, ogres, gnomes and their goblin relations, dwarves—any race touched by the
Undying Spark of Awareness. Which basically meant any member of a speaking race who would pledge
to renounce the old gods and embrace the enlightened philosophy of the Undying Spark instead.

The problems began when the settlers got to New Promise, forgot their pledge, and unpacked their old
prejudices and pagan gods along with their bags. God worship was the only crime punishable by exile
from the province. Naturally, hidden chapels and shrines thrived in New Promise, secreted behind
legitimate businesses like rats in the walls.

It was strange the way it worked out. Being illegal had forced the pagan churches to ally themselves with
local crime families for protection. The gangs also had their grubby fingers in every level of the province's
government.

When the Sages of the Undying Spark tried to get this pagan banished or that chapel closed down, the
deciding factor was often which crime boss was the church's patron. And of course, which official down
at the Magistrate's Hall that boss happened to have in his or her back pocket.

But corruption was just the beginning of the problems in New Promise. The Enlightened Duke's open
immigration policy had the city overcrowded; full of hungry people with little hope of finding work. There
were rumors of a slave trade, folks going missing and ending their days chained in the coalmines of the
savage Kresht. The Industry Council rarely met anymore because of the threat of assassination by One
Wagers and their union cronies.

Factory chimneys hadn't stopped filling the skies with noxious gasses and soot, though. Every day a
thick haze lay over most of New Promise from mid-morning till late in the night.

It was nearly midnight now. The rain had left the muggy air as clean as it would ever be. Grevien didn't
bother pulling the mud soaked facecloth up over his nose and mouth.

Walking more steadily now, the stocky man made his way to the open end of the alleyway. A motorcar
splashed him as it passed. Sighing, Grevien composed himself as best he could. He sauntered toward
Piglet's, adopting a street-tough strut that gave no indication of his pain. He hoped it would keep away