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

that they seem as impersonal as the Great Wheel, which they claim to
represent. They are no longer merely body merchants, but are allied with the
Temples. These, too, are changed, for your kinsmen of the First who are now
gods do commune with them from Heaven. If you are indeed of the First, Sam,
your way must lead you either to deification or extinction, when you face
these new Masters of Karma."
"How?" asked Sam.
"Details you must seek elsewhere," said the other. "I do not know the
processes whereby these things are achieved. Ask after Jannaveg the
sailmaker on the Street of the Weavers."
"This is how Jan is now known?"
The other nodded. "And beware the dogs," he said, "or, for that matter,
anything else which is alive and may harbor intelligence."
"What is your name, captain?" asked Sam.
"In this port, I have no name at all or a false one, and I see no
reason for lying to you. Good day, Sam."
"Good day, captain. Thank you for your words."
Sam rose and departed the harbor, heading back toward the business
district and the streets of the trades.

The sun was a red discus in the heavens, rising to meet the Bridge of
the Gods. The prince walked through the awakened city, threading his way
among the stalls displaying the skills of the workmen in the small crafts.
Hawkers of unguents and powders, perfumes and oils, moved about him.
Florists waved their garlands and corsages at the passer-by; and the
vintners said nothing, sitting with their wineskins on rows of shaded
benches, waiting for their customers to come to them as they always did. The
morning smelled of cooking food, musk, flesh, excrement, oils and incense
all churned up together and turned loose to wander like an invisible cloud.
Dressed as a beggar himself, it did not seem out of place for him to
stop and speak to the hunchback with the begging bowl.
"Greetings, brother," he stated. "I am far from my quarter on an
errand. Can you direct me to the Street of the Weavers?"
The hunchback nodded and shook his bowl suggestively.
He withdrew a small coin from the pouch concealed beneath his tattered
garments. He dropped it into the hunchback's bowl and it quickly vanished.
"That way." The man gestured with his head. "The third street you come
upon, turn there to the left. Then follow it past two streets more, and you
will be at the Circle of the Fountain before the Temple of Varuna. Coming
into that Circle, the Street of the Weavers is marked by the Sign of the
Awl."
He nodded to the hunchback, patted his hump and continued on his way.
When he reached the Circle of the Fountain, the prince halted. Several
dozen people stood in a shifting line before the Temple of Varuna, most
stern and august of all the deities. These people were not preparing to
enter the Temple, but rather were engaged in some occupation that required
waiting and taking turns. He heard the rattling of coins and he wandered
nearer.
It was a machine, gleaming and metallic, before which they moved.
A man inserted a coin into the mouth of a steel tiger. The machine