Lord of Lies. David Zindell
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Название: Lord of Lies

Автор: David Zindell

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Героическая фантастика

Серия:

isbn: 9780008222321

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ go on to become lords and kings. And the greatest kings of men use the great gelstei to turn their sight to the heavens for new conquests, and so learn to walk the stars. Then comes the greatest conquest of all as mortal men strengthen the flame of life so that it cannot be blown out. And so are born the immortal Elijin, and the strongest of these angels gain the power of the quenchless Galadin: they who can not be harmed in any way.

       And yet, still they do suffer: terribly, terribly, terribly. For our journey toward the ultimate becomes more, not less, painful at every step. Man is a very small vessel that contains only a small amount of life’s bitter poison; the great Galadin hold inside entire oceans. And as their suffering increases without measure, so must their means to bear it.

       You know in your heart, Valashu, what this must be: that one’s own pain can only be ended by inflicting equal pain upon another. For the power of life and death over the weak is ultimately the power of life over death itself. Can you deny that this is so? Doesn’t the scream of another make you give thanks that you are healthy and whole? Doesn’t the flesh of animals quicken your own? Do you not feel, like a lion, exalted at the moment when you kill?

       This is the secret of the valarda, the secret of life itself. The deepest part of the Law of the One is this: that there is an affinity of opposites. We hate most those we love most deeply. We love: terribly, terribly, terribly. In our love and longing for the One, we feel too keenly the longing of others. If we are not to be overwhelmed by it, what are we to do? Strike fire into their souls! Rend them with our claws! Devour their entrails and take joy in the agony of their eyes! Then they will cry out to be relieved of their suffering. But since it is our hand, the One acting through us, which creates this torment, it is to us they cry for relief. And so, for a moment, we are reminded of our divine nature and why we were created. We touch upon the One’s true purpose, and the One itself, and in that light of ecstasy, how should any suffering remain?

       Do you not see the terrible beauty of the One’s design? As the One is infinite, so is the One’s pain – and so must be the means to end it. In the torment of innocents, infinite in number, the One realizes his invulnerability. And the tormented innocents, the strongest of them, raise themselves up as angels to grasp the divine light itself. And so the true magnificence of the One is revealed: for the One’s two faces are also love and hate. Our hate of the One for making us suffer leads, in the end, to love of the One for impelling us back to our source. And so the One uses evil to work the greatest possible good. And isn’t this, Valashu, true compassion?

      I paused for a moment in reading Morjin’s letter. Because my mouth was dry, I took a drink of brandy. My hands were sweating inside their casings of slick leather. My eyes burned. The whoosh of Maram breathing heavily beside me merged with the other sounds of the room: the crackle of the fire, the rustle of paper, the grinding of my brother’s jaws. Asaru’s anger was no greater than mine. True compassion, Morjin had spoken of! But it was a twisted compassion. Another image of Morjin, the true image that he did not wish men to see, appeared in my mind: The once-lovely Elijin lord whose very body had rotted as if from the inside out. His ghoulish-gray flesh hung in folds from the sharp bones of his face. His gray hair, stringy and limp, grew in patches as if he had once suffered terrible burns. His eyes, his ancient eyes, were as cold and cruel as iron, rusted red and filled with blood. In them raged a terrible will to suck the life out of others. And they cried out with a terrible hunger. For he spent much of his vital force trying to maintain the illusion of his beauty in order to deceive men – and perhaps himself.

      ‘Read on!’ Maram called out beside me. ‘Let’s finish this, Val!’

      I noticed my father studying my face, as my grandmother turned toward me and my mother watched me intently. Even Master Juwain, now caught in his curiosity to hear what Morjin had written next, nodded for me to continue. And so I read on:

       The Maitreya is called the Compassionate One. He is said to be a healer of the world’s suffering and the anguish that all men know. If this be true, then how could you be he? You, who have killed and maimed so many and caused so much agony? Do you truly wish the ending of war and the forgiving of your foes? Then ask yourself this question, Valashu: if you were this Shining One who bears the light of the divine, would you hold out your healing hand to me?

       The Maitreya, it is also said, will show man the world just as it is. For man, faced with the horror of existence, is liable to long for a world without evil that can never be. And to give up under the crushing burden of life and its torment of fire. And so the One, in mercy, in true compassion, sends into the world the Lightstone, all the One’s power, so that the Maitreya might seize it and show men the truth. And so the Maitreya eases their suffering, for all then know their place in the natural order and the path of returning to their source. But can you, Valashu, show the world this terrible truth? Can you bear to show it to yourself? No, we both know that you do not have the heart for this. And so you cannot be this Maitreya, either.

       But if you aren’t he, who are you? You are a Valari of an ancient line of adventurers who are never Maitreyas. You are a warrior who professes to hate war. A murderer of men who justifies his crimes by castigating his foes as evil. A prince … of thieves. You are he who steals the light of truth from the world so that darkness will prevail. You are he who opposes the establishment of a natural order where the strong might rise without the waste of war. You are a Lord of Lies, for you tell yourself that you will somehow be redeemed from your dreadful deeds in your suffering of others’ pain.

      You believe that you have experienced the most bitter of suffering, but I promise you that you have known only the barest twinge of its beginning. You think, too, that what I have done to you is evil. It is just the opposite. Consider this: would you have ever developed the strength to steal the Lightstone if I hadn’t opposed you at every step of your journey? What is evil? All that weakens and diminishes a man. What is good? All that strengthens him and drives him toward divinity. Can you deny that you – and the woman you think you love – are now both greater beings as a result of the torments that I have visited upon you? Lord Valashu, Knight Swan, Guardian of the Lightstone – can you deny that it is I who has made you?

       And so you are in my debt. And doubly and triply so since you have wounded me and taken the Cup of Heaven. And yet, upon you I wish no vengeance. I must believe that you did what you did out of error and not malice. You are young and full of fanciful dreams, as I was once. Inside you there blazes a truly beautiful light. Who has seen this as I have, Valashu? Open your eyes, and you might see it yourself.

       The debt must be repaid. One day, I hope, you will swear allegiance to me. You will serve me – in life or in death. The Lightstone, however, must be returned immediately. If it is, I shall reward you with a million-weight of gold and a kingdom of your own to rule. If it is not, I shall so reward any man who delivers the Lightstone into my hands. And the kingdom of Mesh shall be taken away from you, and you and your family destroyed. My ally, King Angand of Sunguru, stands ready to march by my side that the crime you have committed might be redressed. And the kings of Uskudar, Karabuk, Hesperu and Galda, who owe me allegiance, will march as well. And King Ulanu of Yarkona, whose acquaintance you have already made. Upon this sacred crusade, I pledge my kingdom, my honor and my life.

       Faithfully, Morjin, King of Sakai and Lord of Ea

       P.S. I have returned with this letter the personal belongings of Atara Ars Narmada. I can only hope that you, or she, might find some use for them. Of course, Atara might find it more useful if she were given new eyes with which to behold you. Return the Lightstone to me, and I shall make it so. It would give me great pleasure.

       P.P.S. One day, if you live long enough, you will use the valarda to strike death into another – as you tried to strike it into me. And on that day, I shall be there by your СКАЧАТЬ