Struggle. Retribution in the Twilight
Шрифт:
Each time he swung it, the charcoal hit the walls and made a sound.
The child liked the toy very much. Now he rattled it half the night and then slept quietly. Not to say that the crying was louder than the constant beating of the coal against the wood, but it was easier for everyone. Everyone knew that it was easier for a child to grow up that way, so he could at least feel that there was something under his control – a little rattle made by a slave.
Masha dreamed that one day she and Raphael would have a child of their own, who would also rattle a toy like this, growing up and becoming independent. A person should be independent, that's when he or she could feel alive.
If she had thought then what those words meant to her husband. That he wouldn't be able to accept that their life was one big ordeal with no choice in the matter. That he would want to change that. Including at the cost of his own life. And that the only thing that would come out of it would be to lose him to her. And now his son was starting his life without even seeing his father.
Masha thought about it, and she didn't have an exact answer for what she would do if she knew ahead of time what she knew now. That he was gone. Would she have been able to keep him from that? Or would all her words have been nothing to him? She didn't know the answer to that question. All she knew was that he was no longer alive. And that his son would someday grow up and start thinking like him. She didn't even doubt that… But what would the world be like when he grew up?
The dreams she'd been having lately were jarring in their harshness, their omnipresence. She felt that she was dreaming on the threshold of the changes that awaited everyone. And it concerned above all the fact that the plagues would lose their power, granted to them by the Black Stone…
How exactly, she did not understand. And it didn't even occur to her what the plagues could lose, what they were using now. What could their great relic even give them now? It opened a portal to Earth for them. It jammed all human electronics. But now that they've conquered humanity, what do they need from all that the Black Stone has given them? Open another portal for someone else to invade and conquer the Chumans? To turn on electronics that no longer exist, and no longer even have people capable of using them to their full potential?
Masha didn't see any answers to these questions. But the very feeling of coming change seemed as real as the sun rising every morning. It just had to happen…
But the dream made it unmistakably clear. It was the same dream now. A clear field without any armies as before. No thunderstorms or rainstorms. Just light clouds blocking out the sun so it wouldn't bake. And Raphael so calm, standing beside her. Very close. And watching her with his faithful, peaceful eyes:
– My love, you will know the secret for sure. But first you must wait for her. Natasha.
Without her, this secret is too dangerous for you. And it's better for you not to know it at all than to know it alone… Wait for her. Wait for Natasha.
Masha woke up every time she heard that word, because she realized that her arms and legs were twitching – she was trying to reach out and hug him in her sleep. To hug her beloved husband, because she missed him so much. To hug him and tell him that their son had been born healthy.
And ask him what name he would like to give him.
She wanted to do all this, and at that moment she realized that she was asleep… That's how she woke up every night, feeling next to the peacefully sleeping infant, who now seemed to fill some void in her, still leaving room for Raphael.
– I miss you so much. – every time Masha whispered aloud. – How much I miss you every
day.....
Metropolitan
The church's railroad train arriving in the Deese sector was not just luxurious – it reveled in that word. Even the carriages of the rank-and-file novices-and those destined for the punitive drill of the "unspoken resource"-were decorated with silk, varnished oak wood, and in places gilding.
Guzokh could imagine that such a thing might be in the Metropolitan's own wagon, but to see it in the rooms reserved for the fighter monks was already astonishing.
Well, at least it became clearer why the chief of the punitive borax Ruminhr so easily believed Guzokh's story that he was given in charge of this borax on the personal orders of the patriarch, and to doubt the words of the Metropolitan – is not allowed even in thought… All this was supported in fact also by the desire of the chums from the borax of the "tacit resource" to live rather than die in a stupid shootout with the SSchekists.
Obedience is in their blood. So they obeyed. The Metropolitan. Albeit a different one. But it doesn't matter. They have no responsibility when the plague with such a high dignity has it.
The train was now moving back to the Korsa sector. Guzokh wanted to keep his unit away from the captured Samoh as a last resort. He could really massacre if given the chance. Especially now that his slippery mind games had failed so miserably.
Before departure, of course, the railings were removed from the roof of the metropolitan carriage, so that it would not differ from all the others. And by his personal order Guzokh allowed to pass through the chambers of the central carriage in both directions. And himself calmer, and to get their favor to himself – let them see that he was not a stranger to their presence, and once again ready only to bless for a holy cause, especially if it concerned his personal security. Exactly so.
Now this drill is his personal security, not some punitive operations, for which both the Imperial Army and the SCK have enough forces. And let them deal with it by his own decree.
How foolish were those who decided that the Inquisition should be carried out by the hands of the Inquisitors. It's not their business at all. It's their business to judge, to pass judgment. But others can carry it out. And on the one hand, this will whitewash the executors from the gravity of the decision, and on the other hand – will not waste a single drop of blood and sweat of the clergy … Guzokh became directly disgusted with Nevrokh's approach to understanding the role of the holy Church in the modern world. He wanted to substitute himself for the given, to become the head of everything and subordinate everyone to his will, including the Central Committee of the Empire … What absurd stupidity. What an unprincipled departure from the essence of the holy Church, which presupposes wise counsel for rulers. Advice that cannot be refused. Advice that is given as if by the Black Stone itself. As opposed to the heavy words and orders that the current patriarch wants to enforce.
He doesn't deserve to be a patriarch. From the moment he stopped understanding the importance and advantage of soft power, capable of controlling the completely heterogeneous subjects of the Empire. He emphasizes brute force, which, while destructive in nature, will only do irreparable damage to the reputation and influence of the Holy See.
That is why they are so caught up in luxury, because they think too much about the strength and rigor of their beliefs, which must be extended to other minds. Therefore, for them, material things have become the main foundation on which they stand too shaky… And it would not be shaky if the strength of beliefs were held on the sure proof-grounded word that passes from mouth to mouth by itself. Without any pressure. When the plagues themselves want to tell each other the truth that they like, and that they will want to see everywhere.