"Роджер Желязны. Lord of Light (Лорд Света, engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

"Go peel bananas with your feet!"
Tak chose to consider this a dismissal and departed the chamber,
leaving Yama to close down the machinery. He made his way along a corridor
and down a wide flight of stairs. He reached the landing, and as he stood
there he heard the sound of voices and the shuffling of sandals coming in
his direction from out a side hall.
Without hesitating, he climbed the wall, using a series of carved
panthers and an opposing row of elephants as handholds. Mounting a rafter,
he drew back into a well of shadow and waited, unmoving.
Two dark-robed monks entered through the archway.
"So why can she not clear the sky for them?" said the first.
The second, an older, more heavily built man, shrugged. "I am no sage
that I can answer such questions. That she is anxious is obvious, or she
should never have granted them this sanctuary, nor Yama this usage. But who
can mark the limits of night?"
"Or the moods of a woman," said the first. "I have heard that even the
priests did not know of her coming."
"That may be. Whatever the case, it would seem a good omen."
"So it would seem."
They passed through another archway, and Tak listened to the sounds of
their going until there was only silence.
Still, he did not leave his perch.
The "she" referred to by the monks could only be the goddess Ratri
herself, worshiped by the order that had given sanctuary to the followers of
Great-Souled Sam, the Enlightened One. Now, Ratri, too, was to be numbered
among those fallen from the Celestial City and wearing the skin of a mortal.
She had every reason to be bitter over the whole affair; and Tak realized
the chance she was taking in granting sanctuary, let alone being physically
present during this undertaking. It could jeopardize any possibility of her
future reinstatement if word of it got out and reached the proper ears. Tak
recalled her as the dark-haired beauty with silver eyes, passing in her moon
chariot of ebony and chromium, drawn by stallions black and white, tended by
her guard, also black and white, passing up the Avenue of Heaven, rivaling
even Sarasvati in her glory. His heart leapt within his hairy breast. He had
to see her again. One night, long ago, in happier times and better form, he
had danced with her, on a balcony under the stars. It had been for only a
few moments. But he remembered; and it is a difficult thing to be an ape and
to have such memories.
He climbed down from the rafter.
There was a tower, a high tower rising from the northeast comer of the
monastery. Within that tower was a chamber. It was said to contain the
indwelling presence of the goddess. It was cleaned daily, the linens
changed, fresh incense burnt and a votive offering laid just within the
door. That door was normally kept locked.
There were, of course, windows. The question as to whether a man could
have entered by means of any of these windows must remain academic. Tak
proved that an ape could.
Mounting the monastery roof, he proceeded to scale the tower, moving
from brick to slippery brick, from projection to irregularity, the heavens
growling doglike above him, until finally he clung to the wall just below