Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I Read Online Free PDF

effortlessly he moved and wondered if this was something, which could
be learned. “Could this change be unique?” Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Yes I
do think it is,” he said as he looked from one Truth to another. “You are each
unique in your own ways, Paleologous.”
    “I give my task to a younger man. I no longer have
the taste for it, Malone. Surely you can understand that?” The question was
rhetorical, but still elicited a response.
    “I can, indeed.” After amiably watching George for a
few moments, he turned and focused on Kosta. The gaze was searching and made
the young man uncomfortable. He stared back curiously, his gaze lacking the
same intensity.
    “He’s already good. He looks at me without
preconceptions.” Malone smiled, revealing a short flash of upper teeth. “Sit
down, both of you. George, for how long are you staying?”
    When his uncle stated that he would be leaving for
India the following morning, Kosta felt his excitement tempered with regret.
Malone nodded with approval. “A good beginning. I hope you find all for which
you’re looking. Until tomorrow, let’s enjoy each other and become acquainted
with the new Truth.”
    Over the course of the night, the regret melted away.
Their conversation rambled as the older men told Kosta that loss is something,
which can only be understood through experience. Malone reached into his jacket
pocket and removed a dog-eared copy of Kazatzakis’s Zorba . “Read it, my boy. It will
prepare you.” In the coming months, Kosta did read it; he felt much better
about his uncle’s absence, as well as the life he had left and the family he
wouldn’t see for years. Life is loss, he realized. The impermanence is what
gives it value.
    That night was etched on Kosta’s memory, even as he
came within sight of Mystra. He recalled that Malone had added that loss and
danger give life a particular value. Of course, danger comes in many forms.
Physical danger is the most readily guarded against. It is something for which
a person can prepare himself. For Kosta, this danger manifested itself in the
form of the Vatican Police.
    “The Catholics have police?” Kosta asked.
    “Not in the badge-carrying, uniform-wearing sense,”
Malone answered. “These agents do the bidding of bishops, cardinals and the
Pope. Like MI-5, CIA and KGB, they act on the orders of their superiors.”
    “Like you did?” Kosta asked.
    “Yes, exactly,” he answered. Kosta read volumes into
the way he shifted in his seat and rolled his shoulders. His actions confirmed
that Malone had not only been British Intelligence, but one of the Vatican
agents.
    “Who are they?” Kosta asked, intrigued. “How can I
identify them?”
    “They’re a lot like Malone,” Uncle George answered. A
pained twitch in Malone’s eyes confirmed Kosta’s initial suspicion.
    “You know so much, because you were one,” Kosta
whispered.
    “Kosta! Then drepeseh ?!” Aren’t you ashamed, George
exclaimed. Malone’s mouth fell open, but quickly snapped it shut.
    “First and foremost, young man, you’ve got to learn
to hide yourself,” he answered. “In any contest, it’s critical to know when to
fight. If you’re able to control the timing, you will always have the
advantage.”
    He raised a hand to calm George and show that Kosta
hadn’t offended him. “He feels comfortable, George. Unlike you and I, he
doesn’t have the armor or experience. This one will learn to fight without
armor. He must work with agility and grace. Our days are done.” He turned back
to Kosta, allowing George to calm down from the empathetic insult. Kosta,
however, didn’t look pained or embarrassed.
    “Yes, you’re right. Your nephew is very insightful,
George.”
    “I never knew,” George sputtered. “I had no idea.”
    “You thought I was MI-5. There are few who ever
know.”
    “You’re a Templar then?” George asked and, mindful of
their public forum, added under his breath, “Part of the Papal Grey