"Orson Scott Card - Ender's Saga 03 - Xenocide" - читать интересную книгу автора (Card Orson Scott)

"Do you think that seeing so many carp means that I will be godspoken?" asked
Qing-jao.
"I will ask the gods to speak to you," said Jiang-qing.
Suddenly Jiang-qing's breathing became quick and harsh. Han Fei-tzu immediately
knelt and looked at his wife. Her eyes were wide and frightened. The moment had
come.
Her lips moved. Promise me, she said, though her breath could make no sound but
gasping.
"I promise," said Han Fei-tzu.
Then her breathing stopped.
"What do the gods say when they talk to you?" asked Qing-jao.
"Your mother is very tired," said Han Fei-tzu. "You should go out now."
"But she didn't answer me. What do the gods say?"
"They tell secrets," said Han Fei-tzu. "No one who hears will repeat them."
Qing-jao nodded wisely. She took a step back, as if to leave, but stopped. "May
I kiss you, Mama?"
"Lightly on the cheek," said Han Fei-tzu.
Qing-jao, being small for a four-year-old, did not have to bend very far at all
to kiss her mother's cheek. "I love you, Mama."
"You'd better leave now, Qing-jao," said Han Fei-tzu.
"But Mama didn't say she loved me too."
"She did. She said it before. Remember? But she's very tired and weak. Go now."
He put just enough sternness in his voice that Qing-jao left without further
questions. Only when she was gone did Han Fei-tzu let himself feel anything but
care for her. He knelt over Jiang-qing's body and tried to imagine what was
happening to her now. Her soul had flown and was now already in heaven. Her
spirit would linger much longer; perhaps her spirit would dwell in this house,
if it had truly been a place of happiness for her. Superstitious people believed
that all spirits of the dead were dangerous, and put up signs and wards to fend
them off. But those who followed the Path knew that the spirit of a good person
was never harmful or destructive, for their goodness in life had come from the
spirit's love of making things. Jiang-qing's spirit would be a blessing in the
house for many years to come, if she chose to stay.
Yet even as he tried to imagine her soul and spirit, according to the teachings
of the Path, there was a cold place in his heart that was certain that all that
was left of Jiang-qing was this brittle, dried-up body. Tonight it would burn as
quickly as paper, and then she would be gone except for the memories in his
heart.
Jiang-qing was right. Without her to complete his soul, he was already doubting
the gods. And the gods had noticed-- they always did. At once he felt the
unbearable pressure to do the ritual of cleansing, until he was rid of his
unworthy thoughts. Even now they could not leave him unpunished. Even now, with
his wife lying dead before him, the gods insisted that he do obeisance to them
before he could shed a single tear of grief for her.
At first he meant to delay, to put off obedience. He had schooled himself to be
able to postpone the ritual for as long as a whole day, while hiding all outward
signs of his inner torment. He could do that now-- but only by keeping his heart
utterly cold. There was no point in that. Proper grief could come only when he
had satisfied the gods. So, kneeling there, he began the ritual.
He was still twisting and gyrating with the ritual when a servant peered in.