"David Drake - Old Nathan (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

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The shadows thrown down the valley by the morning sun were sharper than those of evening, and the
unshadowed clay was red as blood.

Old Nathan stood slowly and faced the sun. His shirt bosom and his hat were wet with dew, but the
night had not chilled him because he had slept against the flank of Spanish King. His joints ached, but that
was as much a fact of life in his own cabin as here on Boardman's newground.

King snorted to his feet, hunching his downsideтАФright-sideтАФlegs before he rolled left and stood. The
whole maneuver was as smooth and as complex as the workings of a fine clock. He looked toward the
dawn sky and said, flicking his ears, "Well, shan't be long."

Turning, the black bull stepped toward the nearby creek, carrying his head high. He seemed
disinterested in the sparse browse, even though he had finished the grain from his panniers.

A mockingbird flew past on the left. Spanish King drowned its cries with a challenge to the world.

"Hit ain't here," said Old Nathan, placing a hand on the bull's rib cage so that the distracted animal did
not turn suddenly and crush him by accident.

"He'll come to me," rumbled Spanish King. "Er I'll go t' him. Hit makes no nevermind." He stepped
deliberately into the creek and lowered his head to drink.

"There's blood in the water," said the cunning man, feeling his soul freeze within him.

"No, hit's the red sun," replied Spanish King, but his muzzle paused a hand's breadth from the surface.
His tongue sucked back within his lips without touching the water.
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"Runnin' with blood," said the cunning man, aware of his words as he would have been aware of words
spoken by another whom he could not control. "Heart's-blood pourin' out like spring water."

"There's blood red clay in this stream," said the bull. "That's what you're seein'." But he backed out of
the creek, two short steps and a hop that brought his shoulder even with Old Nathan as the man stood
transfixed beside him.

Another bull bellowed from the foot of the valley, where the sun would just be touching the spring that
fed the creek through a fissure in the limestone.

"Well," said Spanish King quietly, and then he bawled back, "There's none my like on this earth!"

The black bull began to stride along the stream, his broadly spreading horns winking with the ruddy light
of dawn.

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