"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 3 - Sword Of Bheleu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

Yet you protest mightily that I have demanded more than you can give. My
people are starving, overmen. Look around you; my people are dying of cold and
hunger. Is it unfair that I ask tariffs of you before allowing you to come and
frighten them into giving you what little they have in exchange for the
worthless trinkets you bring them? Is it unfair that I have hoped to collect
taxes from you, that I might relieve their suffering? Is it unfair that I have
tried to keep away from them those of you known to have committed murder, such
as you? Is it unfair that I have asked your people to come only in groups
small enough to pose no threat to the safety and well-being of Skelleth? Our
two nations have been at war for half a millennium, Garth; now you come here,
defying the laws and edicts of this realm, and demand that you be treated as
an honored friend and neighbor. Can you think that I will give in willingly?"
Garth's right hand had crept across his chest toward his left shoulder
and the hilt of the great sword during this speech; his fingers touched the
weapon as Galt replied quickly, "You are twisting the truth and playing with
words, Baron. We would not protest reasonable tariffs, though they would go,
not to your starving people, but into your own pocket. We have no wish to
cheat or deceive your people. If you do not want what we can trade, we will
pay in gold for what we need. We can abide by restrictions on our travel in
your lands, but you have ordered that no party of more than three may come;
how can we form caravans to pass the dangers of the road in safety? Your
claimed reasons for distrusting us are nonsense; Garth has killed in
self-defense, but is no wanton murderer, and the war between our peoples ended
three hundred years ago. You have asked us to give up our independence as a
nation simply to obtain the right to trade; would you be willing to surrender
your barony to us were the situation reversed?"
Galt's intrusion into the conversation had come as a surprise to
everyone present; Garth had thrown him a startled glance, but let him speak.
The Baron continued to stare directly at Garth.
"I do not parley with servants," the Baron said.
 Galt fought back a reply; it was Garth's turn again.
"He speaks the truth, Baron, perhaps more eloquently than I could, while
you lie. You say that you do not parley with servants, yet you seem willing
enough to speak to one you call a murderer; where is the logic in that? Galt
is no servant, as you well know; you seek to insult and enrage us. Why?"
There was a moment of silence; then the Baron turned and began walking
back toward his home. "I do not answer to murderers," he said.
"Hold, man?" Garth bellowed; his right hand closed on the sword and
snatched it out of its sheath. With a flourish, he swung it about and hoisted
it crosswise above his head.
The Baron stopped on the threshold and turned back to face the overmen
again. "I have called your bluff, Garth," he said. "I hold all power here,
save what you take by strength of arms. You have that strength; we both know
that. You could kill me, and destroy Skelleth-but to do so would start the
Racial Wars anew, and this time humanity would not be satisfied to drive you
filthy monsters into the wilderness. This time, Garth, they would wipe you
out, to the last stinking freak. You have no other choice; accept my terms, or
fight and die. I will not change my terms. I am neither fool nor coward to be
impressed by this handful of would-be warriors. If your people want to trade
here, then you, Garth, are exiled, and sworn to offer your City Council the