Hard to Be a God by Arkady Strugatsky Page A

depopulated, drenched in blood, still burning, in which everything, everything, everything will need to be started over again.
    When Rumata kicked open the door of his house and entered the magnificent, dilapidated entrance hall, he was as gloomy as a storm cloud. Muga, the gray-haired, hunched servant of forty years’ experience, cowered at the sight of him and only watched, drawing his head further into his shoulders, as his savage young master tore off his hat, coat, and gloves, hurled his swords onto the bench, and climbed to his chambers. Uno waited for him in the living room.
    â€œOrder dinner,” growled Rumata. “To my study.”
    â€œSomeone’s waiting for my master in there,” Uno reported gloomily.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œSome common girl. Or maybe a doña. She speaks like a commoner—so gentle, but she’s dressed like a noblewoman … pretty.”
    Kira, thought Rumata with tenderness and relief. Oh, how wonderful! As if she sensed it, my little one. He stood still, his eyes closed, gathering his thoughts.
    â€œShould I turn her out?” the boy asked briskly.
    â€œYou dummy,” said Rumata. “Don’t you dare! Where is she?”
    â€œIn master’s study, of course,” the boy said with an inept smile.
    Rumata hurriedly headed there. “Order dinner for two,” he instructed along the way. “And listen: don’t let anyone in! Not the king, not the devil, not Don Reba himself.”
    She was in his study, sitting with her feet up on a chair, her chin propped up on her fist, absentmindedly flipping through the
Treatise on Rumors.
When Rumata walked in, she started, but he didn’t let her get up. He ran up to her, hugged her, and stuck his nose into her thick, fragrant tresses, muttering, “It’s so good to see you, Kira! It’s so good to see you.”
    There was nothing extraordinary about her. She was just a girl, eighteen years of age, snub-nosed, her father an assistant to the court clerk, her brother a sergeant in the storm troopers. And she was late getting married, because she was a redhead, and Arkanar didn’t think much of redheads. For that same reason, she was surprisingly quiet and shy, and she had nothing in common with the loudmouthed, voluptuous women who were so appreciated in every class of this society. Nor was she like the languid court beauties, who found out a woman’s lot too early and for life. But she knew how to love the way they now loved on Earth—calmly and unconditionally.
    â€œWhy were you crying?” Rumata asked.
    â€œWhy are you so angry?”
    â€œNo, tell me why you were crying.”
    â€œI’ll tell you later. Your eyes are so very tired. What happened?”
    â€œLater. Who upset you?”
    â€œNo one upset me,” Kira said. “Can you take me away from here?”
    â€œDefinitely.”
    â€œWhen are we leaving?”
    â€œI don’t know, little one. But we’re definitely going to leave.”
    â€œFar away?”
    â€œVery far away.”
    â€œTo the metropole?” she asked.
    â€œYes … to the metropole. To my country.”
    â€œIs it nice there?”
    â€œIt’s wondrously nice. No one ever cries there.”
    â€œThat’s impossible.”
    â€œOf course,” Rumata admitted. “But
you’ll
never cry there.”
    â€œAnd what are the people there like?”
    â€œLike me”.
    â€œAll of them?”
    â€œNot all of them. Some are much better.”
    â€œThat’s definitely impossible.”
    â€œThat’s not only possible,” he replied, “it’s true!”
    â€œWhy is it so easy to believe you? My father doesn’t believe anyone. My brother says that all people are swine, the only difference is that some are filthy and others are not. But I don’t believe them, and you I always believe.”
    â€œI love you.”
    â€œWait … Rumata. Take your