"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 4 - Book of Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

take an interest in such a mystery? He could speak to the old man without
making bargains, without being sucked into his plotting and planning.
If the thought had ever occurred to Garth that he sought out the King
because the old man, alone in all of Skelleth, had absolutely no fear of Garth
or the Sword of Bheleu, he had dismissed the idea as absurd and irrelevant.
He gulped ale, then said, "Greetings, I said."
The King moved a hand, as if to wave the overman away.
Garth was not willing to be turned aside that easily. He knew something
of the King's background and had some idea of his immense power, but he was
not frightened. Very little could frighten Garth; he would not allow himself
such weaknesses as unnecessary fears. He shrugged at the old man's gesture and
drank ale.
The King sat unmoving, watching with hidden eyes.
Garth finished the contents of his mug, motioned to the tavernkeeper for
more, and stared back.
The King was old, Garth knew, older than anything else that lived in the
world. He had survived for more than a thousand years at the very least,
perhaps for several thousand. He had been in Skelleth since its founding three
centuries earlier. He could not die in the natural way of things. It was
hardly surprising that his behavior should be strange.
As Garth had pieced together the story, the King, in the dim and ancient
past, had made a bargain with The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken, Death himself.
The King had then been a monarch in more than name, the wizard-king of the
longlost and forgotten empire of Carcosa. He had sought immortality and agreed
to serve as the Final God's high priest in exchange for eternal life. In time
he had come to regret his bargain and had forsaken the god's service, only to
find that he was unable to die. Blades could not cut him, blows could not harm
him; the petrifying gaze of a basilisk had left him untouched. He still
possessed knowledge and magical power far beyond anything known since the fall
of Carcosa, but he had no call to use it, for it could not get him the one
thing he wanted.
One great magic could attain his death, a mighty spell requiring both
the Sword of Bheleu and the Book of Silence. He had the sword, but lacked the
book. Garth had sworn to fetch the book in order to be free of the sword, but
he did not intend to fulfill his vow.
As far as Garth was concerned, that put an end to the matter, save for
one detail. He had not been called upon to carry out his promise; he was not
yet truly forsworn. He was able to maintain a pretense of honor-a pretense he
knew to be false-as long as the King did not demand that he fetch the book.
The King had not made that demand yet only because he had not recalled
where, several centuries earlier, he had left the book. Garth hoped that the
memory was lost forever; then he might never be forced to break his sworn
word.
At the same time, though, he found himself wishing that the affair were
over with, that the oath were broken and done, rather than still hanging over
him.
He leaned back, his chair creaking a protest beneath his inhuman weight,
and could not resist asking, "Have you remembered yet, O King?" His voice was
expressionless, for overmen's emotions were displayed differently from
humans'. The mixture of bitterness over his false oath and anticipation of its