British poet and author (1961-)
Nick Drake (born in 1961 London) is a British poet and mystery writer.
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'Come on, Rahotep. How do you think Royal Envoy Nakht gets his information about events in the north, and in the war? The army has its intelligence, and the palace has its own, too. The days when an invasion or an attack took place and no one heard about it for months are long gone. This war’s all about speed and information, and you can be sure Nakht has a very efficient system. The problem is, each system is always trying to infiltrate the other. And there’s always the danger of spies.’
Perhaps it is the human imagination that is the monster,' he said. 'I believe no animal suffers from the torments of the imagination. Only man…'
'The imagination is capable of enacting the very best in us, and the very worst,' agreed Hor, 'and I know what mine would like to do to some people.'
'Your verse is torment enough,' quipped the architect.
'And that is why civilized life, morality, ethics and so on, matter. We are half-enlightened, and half-monstrous,' said Nakht assertively. 'We must build our civility upon reason and mutual benefit.'
Sobek raised his cup.
'I salute your reason. I wish it every success.
I don't think he'd ever have made a strong king. He was weak as water. Can you imagine him smiting the enemy? Destroying them in battle? Having the guts to execute the opposition?'
'Perhaps it's time we had a king who didn't do that. Perhaps it's time we had a king who had other values on his mind,' I said, playing nervously with my dagger to calm the growing anxiety inside me.
'Like what?'
'Reform of corruption. Civil order to prevent the abuses of power. Justice.
I suspect you are intent upon some sort of revenge, in response to this dreadful tragedy?'
'And?' I said.
'Let me counsel you. In moments such as this, we are inclined to allow the animal aspect of our natures to take control. It is a mistake. ... Because revenge can destroy a man as surely as the plague. It seems like a god, so pure and true, and full of its sense of justice and entitlement. But it is truly a monster. It feeds perpetually upon its own pain, and upon any pain it can find. And it can never be satisfied until everything has been destroyed utterly.