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Faith of the Fallen :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 590 из 617The crowd murmured,hardly able to believe any man would laugh at a brother of the Order-at Brother Narev himself.
Brother Narev could hardly believe it.
The dozens of guards who had their spears leveled at Richard could hardly believe it.
In the tense silence, Richard's laugh echoed off the semicircle of stone walls and soaring columns behind them. Death's grin returned. Brother Narev lifted the sledgehammer by the head, its weight awkward in his bony hand, and held the handle out to Richard.
"You will destroy your depraved work yourself."
The words "or you will die on the spot" were not spoken, but everyone heard them implied.
Richard accepted the handle of the sledgehammer. He could have looked no more noble doing so if he had been taking a jewel-encrusted sword.
Richard's raptor gaze left Brother Narev and swept out over the crowd as he took several strides toward the steps. Brother Narev lifted a finger, signaling the guards to hold their spears. By the smirk on the faces of Brothers Narev and Neal, they didn't think the crowd would care to hear anything a sinner had to say.
"You are ruled," Richard said in a voice that rang out over the multitude, "by mean little men."
The people gasped as one. To speak against a brother was treason, most likely, and heresy for sure.
"My crime?" Richard asked aloud. "I have given you something beautiful to see, daring to hold the conviction that you have a right to see it if you wish. Worse. . I have said that your lives are your own to live."
A rolling murmur swept out through the multitude. Richard's voice rose in power, demanding in its clarity to be heard above the whispering.
"Evil is not one large entity, but a collection of countless, small depravities brought up from the muck by petty men. Living under the Order, you have traded the enrichment of vision for a gray fog of mediocrity-the fertile inspiration of striving and growth, for mindless stagnation and slow decay-the brave new ground of the attempt, for the timid quagmire of apathy."
With gazes riveted and lips still, the crowd listened. Richard gestured out over their heads with his sledgehammer, wielded with the effortless grace of a royal sword.
"You have traded freedom not even for a bowl of soup, but worse, for the spoken empty feelings of others who say that you deserve to have a full bowl of soup provided by someone else.
"Happiness, joy, accomplishment, achievement. . are not finite commodities, to be divided up.
Brother Narev could hardly believe it.
The dozens of guards who had their spears leveled at Richard could hardly believe it.
In the tense silence, Richard's laugh echoed off the semicircle of stone walls and soaring columns behind them. Death's grin returned. Brother Narev lifted the sledgehammer by the head, its weight awkward in his bony hand, and held the handle out to Richard.
"You will destroy your depraved work yourself."
The words "or you will die on the spot" were not spoken, but everyone heard them implied.
Richard accepted the handle of the sledgehammer. He could have looked no more noble doing so if he had been taking a jewel-encrusted sword.
Richard's raptor gaze left Brother Narev and swept out over the crowd as he took several strides toward the steps. Brother Narev lifted a finger, signaling the guards to hold their spears. By the smirk on the faces of Brothers Narev and Neal, they didn't think the crowd would care to hear anything a sinner had to say.
"You are ruled," Richard said in a voice that rang out over the multitude, "by mean little men."
The people gasped as one. To speak against a brother was treason, most likely, and heresy for sure.
"My crime?" Richard asked aloud. "I have given you something beautiful to see, daring to hold the conviction that you have a right to see it if you wish. Worse. . I have said that your lives are your own to live."
A rolling murmur swept out through the multitude. Richard's voice rose in power, demanding in its clarity to be heard above the whispering.
"Evil is not one large entity, but a collection of countless, small depravities brought up from the muck by petty men. Living under the Order, you have traded the enrichment of vision for a gray fog of mediocrity-the fertile inspiration of striving and growth, for mindless stagnation and slow decay-the brave new ground of the attempt, for the timid quagmire of apathy."
With gazes riveted and lips still, the crowd listened. Richard gestured out over their heads with his sledgehammer, wielded with the effortless grace of a royal sword.
"You have traded freedom not even for a bowl of soup, but worse, for the spoken empty feelings of others who say that you deserve to have a full bowl of soup provided by someone else.
"Happiness, joy, accomplishment, achievement. . are not finite commodities, to be divided up.