"Carol Emshwiller - Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emshwiller Carol)

and I become aware that I've soiled myself. I don't want the boys to see. I've always been a source of
strength and inspiration in spite of or because of my size.

One of those boys is Hob, come to help me, my arm across his shoulders. I lean in pain but keep my
groans to myself.

"Sir? Colonel?"
 "I'm fine. Will be. Go."

I wish I could ask him if he really is my son. They say sometimes the women know and tell the boys.

"Don't you want us to.тАж "

"No. Go. Now. And shut the door."

They leave just in time. I throw up over the side of the bed. I lie backтАФUna's pillow all sweated up
not to mention what I've done to her quilt.

Una can make potions for pain. I wish I knew which, of the herbs hanging from her ceiling, might help
me. But I'd not be able to reach them anyway.

I lie, half conscious, for I don't know how long. Every time I sit up to examine my leg, I feel nausea
again and have to lie back. I wonder if I'll ever be able to lead a charge or a raid for boys or a copulation
day. And I always thought, when I became a general (and lately I felt sure I'd be one) maybe I'd find out
what we're fighting forтАФbeyond, that is, the usual rhetoric we use to make ourselves feel superior. Now
I suppose I'll never know the real reasons.



┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖



The boys knock. I rouse myself and say, "Come." Try, that is. At first my voice won't sound out at all
and then it sounds more like a groan than a word. The boys tell me the women have called down from
the wall. They want to send in a spokesman. The boys want to let him in and then hold him hostage so
that we'll all be let out safely.

I tell them the women will probably send in a woman.

That bothers the boys. They must have had torture or killing in mind but now they look worried.

"Tell them yes," I say.

It must smell terrible in here. I even smell terrible to myself, and it's uncomfortable sitting in my own
mess. I prop myself up as best I can. I hope I can keep to my senses. I hope I don't throw up in the
middle of it. I put my dagger, unsheathed, under the pillow.

At first I think the boys were right, it's a man, of course a man. Where would they have found him,
and is he from our side or theirs? That's important. I can't tell by the colors. He's all in tan and gray. He's