Rhianon-3. Palace in Heaven. Natalie Yacobson

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      There was before them a gloomy valley, so black that everything around it was drowned in darkness. At first it was impossible to see even the hideous bodies cowering below. They intertwined and moved in a strange cacophony of sounds and rustles. Beyond the valley rose mountains that encircled the place as if in a ring. And stone blocks awkwardly piled somewhere in the distance staggered with their grandiosity. Neither man nor nature could have created something like that. And all this just beneath the starry skies that had once been the home of those who now swarmed in the valley, like the trough left behind by the fall.

      Rhianon looked around and shuddered. Her eyes were beginning to see unnaturally well in the dark. Her companion must have been a gift from her super-sharp perception of her surroundings and her keen eyesight. He could imbue mortals with unusual qualities. And he was so close to her that it seemed that his very power had begun to be transmitted to her as well. But now she was more concerned with what was going on below. There was a sudden movement, a shrill sound, and then… Rhianon shuddered as the sound of a hellish scream echoed through the valley. Even the mountains in the distance seemed to tremble. And that scream was not the only one. The moon rose, casting scant light on the gloomy expanse, and soon hundreds, thousands of them were screaming. One would have thought that every yard of ground beneath them was living, agonizing and screaming.

      “Look, this is the cry of those who had everything and have lost everything and know that there is no return,” Madael whispered, holding her tightly to him.

      His face was terrifyingly calm. Not a muscle flickered, and his vacant eyes were expressionless. She was shattered inside, crying out.

      “Should I feel pity for you?”

      “Oh, no,” he arched his eyebrows expressively, “I expect no pity from anyone, my dear, and they deserve what they get because they followed me.”

      “You really are the devil.”

      “Yes, but you belong to me, not to the god who tortures them so.”

      Rhianon involuntarily wondered what would happen if he suddenly opened his arms and let her fall into the demon-infested abyss.

      But Madael was in no hurry to let her go. On the contrary, trusting no magic, he did not unclench his arms. Hanging in the air himself, he put his arms around her waist, so that Rhianon, her back pressed against his chest, could see perfectly well what was going on below. He let her enjoy the sight before he turned and flew away. It was just as lightning struck the clumps. Rhianon realized that she had only seen part of it. She assumed that some impossibly strong, clawed creature was still dragging these boulders and piling them on top of each other.

      “Are they building a temple for you?” She guessed. “It is a temple for a defeated deity…”

      “It was for their deity,” he reminded her firmly. “You can call it a temple if you like. I don’t know what it is yet, but they’ve got to have something to do, so they’ve got to build it. Just think if mortals were to pray to us, to me and to you, and make blood sacrifices in this place. And then my servants will sacrifice themselves.”

      “You are unbearable.”

      “I had someone to learn from,” he remarked reasonably, perhaps recalling his former lord. His words made sense, Rhianon thought.

      “Stop this construction,” she asked.

      “Why is it?”

      “It is to please me.”

      He seemed to find that answer to his liking. She couldn’t turn around to look him in the face as he hurtled across the sky with her, but she thought for a moment there was a contented grin on his face.

      “You’re just like me. And you don’t like their cries either. They make me feel better sometimes, though. It’s always nice to know that someone is suffering a little, and not just enjoying the pain of the world. I can never get used to the suffering of others, Rhianon. I can’t imagine why these things whimper when the real pain is unknown to them.”

      “I suppose it is known only to you.”

      “Oh, yes, it is,” he said. He had already brought her into the tent and set her on the bed. The folds of the new smoky gold garment he’d given her rustled pleasantly. It seemed that this dress of unknown fabric could change color on its own. Not long ago it had been blue, then emerald, and now gold again. The whole gamut of colors was in that fabric, just as the whole palette of pain was reflected in the eyes of the fallen angels.

      Madael understood without words what she was thinking and crouched beside her.

      “I won’t let you suffer,” the lilies were ready to bloom from his touch, but she remembered the blood and the fire and the screams of hell.

      “You won’t have to go through what they did, believe me, I won’t let that happen.”

      “Why is it not?”

      The answer stunned her.

      “I don’t know.”

      At first she didn’t even believe it. Whether he was joking or trying to fool her again with his heavenly philosophy, but his voice sounded quite serious. Only someone who really couldn’t comprehend himself could speak so thoughtfully. She looked at him and realized, he really didn’t know. How complicated he was, a mistake of nature and at the same time its crowning glory, he could not comprehend his own feelings.

      “Then can you answer one question about my kingdom for me?”

      “Yes,” he looked at her eagerly.

      Rhianon hesitated for a moment. It was hard for her to ask and she was afraid to hear the answer.

      “I’ve asked you this before, but I want your answer honestly. Why is it Loretta? Why would you fight on their side if there was no justice with them?”

      “No,” he agreed. “But there’s more evil on Menuel’s side.”

      He lowered his head for a moment, unsure of what to say. There was a moment of hesitation on his handsome face, and then he spoke again.

      “You see, there are chosen ones… These people are a mistake, but they are extraordinarily valuable. God wants them to know the world in suffering, only then can they create. My demons whisper to people to do evil to these chosen ones, but in turn, anyone who has wronged them will face unbearable punishment. It’s an endless cycle, and I’m tired of it. In Menuel, on the other hand, there are blacksmiths who are almost as gifted as my Zwergs. They’re almost as close to divinity, and for that alone they should be gone, or at least those of them who are СКАЧАТЬ