"Fancher, Jane S. - Moonlover and the Fountain of Blood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)

MOONLOVER AND THE FOUNTAIN OF BLOOD
Jane S. Fancher

I DON'T remember the day I was born, but the moment of my death is seared into memory.
I'd been riding with my lovers-too many lovers, Mother would say, and not enough friends, but that's another story. . . .
Or, perhaps not. As to that, only time will tell.
But I get ahead of myself.
As I say, I was riding. Upon returning, I'd sent my lovers on to the house ahead of me, wanting time in my garden, and my garden being that one, hidden part of my Self that I shared with no one: lover, friend ... or enemy.
I recall the scent of the roses. Even then, with senses no better than any other human's, I could close my eyes as I walked and know where I was in the maze by the scent of the nearest rose. As the essence of sun-warmed raspberries filled my nostrils, I paused, opening my eyes upon my current favorite, a rose that radiated the color of the glowing sun at its center, shading to the deepest of mountain berries along the edges of the petals. I remember noting that it thrived while its neighbors wasted- perhaps because it was my favorite. I felt guilty that in loving one more than the others I'd caused suffering.
I knelt beside the nearest of those distressed plants and thrust my fingers deep into the soil, seeking the flow of lifeblood from the Fountain. As I'd suspected, the sunberry was getting more than its share, the patterns flowing deep beneath the neighboring plants, rising again to touch the roots of the sunberry.
I sternly redirected the flow, then stood watch as the wilted leaves plumped, and the heads of the valiant buds lifted.
Tomorrow there would be blooms.
Assured the flow had stabilized in the new pattern, I sent a silent apology to those I'd neglected and moved on, working my way inward toward the Fountain that glittered with rainbow colors in the sunlight. Weaker colors than was my preference, as the lifeblood's scent had been weak, hence my determined march on the center of the maze.
In the pool at its base, those colors swirled, eddied as I passed my hand through them. I thought of my lovers, and the liquid calmed, turned mirrorlike, reflecting those thoughts, not my own face.
As I knew they would, they'd retired to the rejuvenating pools deep in the mountain beneath the tower, basking in the soothing liquid, doing what lovers did.
I blew their reflections a kiss and silently wished them joy. Perhaps I'd join them later.
And perhaps not. It depended on how hungry the Fountain was today.
I drew my knife, set the point to my wrist and jabbed quickly, cleanly, severing only skin and the artery that was my target.
Blood streamed across the pool, dissipating quickly. Too quickly: the Fountain was starving. I held my hand steady, resisting the instinctive urge to thrust it into the pool, feeding the Fountain until at last the mirror on my lovers turned deep, rich red.
Finally, weak with blood loss, I lowered my hand into the mirror, scattering my lovers into the Fountain's red spray. I closed my eyes, sent my inner awareness to the wound, waiting only long enough for the Fountain to heal the artery before pulling free.
My knees gave way, and I sank to the ground beside the pool. Leaning my back to the stone edge, I drew my legs up, rested my arm in my lap, and waited for the skin to heal. The Fountain's blood-touched water evaporated quickly in the dry summer air, leaving the job undone. I dipped a single fingertip into the pool and dabbed the red spot, keeping it moist, using only enough or the lifeblood to heal the wound.
For the rest, dinner, a good night's sleep-alone, I remember thinking, though reluctantly-and breakfast and I'd be ready to feed the Fountain again. In the meantime, I drifted in the sunlight, gathering its warmth.
"Well, that was rather foolish, now, wasn't it?"
"Hello, Mother," I said, without opening my eyes. She was the only one I allowed here. Of course, since it was her garden before it was mine, I couldn't very well keep her out.
"Child, you must stop this. You spread yourself too thin, the garden is too greedy."
"My garden isn't greedy. It takes only what it needs."
"And the blooms grow fat as you grow thin. Greedy, I say, as these leeches you bring into my house are greedy."
Mother never thought much of my choice of lovers. "They aren't leeches."
"They want only the things you give them, the beautiful home, the good food and fine clothes-"
"The hot baths." I laughed aloud. "But, Mother, I don't care. In return, they give me what I want."
"Cheap, uncomplicated sex?"
I lifted my head defiantly.
"Child, you grow tiresome-and old. You must give me an heir, before the garden and the leeches eat you alive."
"I'll have no woman beneath my roof."
"Your problem isn't with women, it's with yourself."
I said nothing.
"There are other ways," she persisted.
"Not for me. Go find yourself an heir the way you found me."
"I didn't find you, I simply lost you for a time. You were conceived in this house, in love, but her parents came and took you away before you were born. When the women of the village expelled you, the earth led me to you, and I brought you home."
That was news. I remembered my mother and the village, but nothing of my father. "Was my father owner of this house?"
She shrugged. As usual, Mother's moments of enlightenment were as short-lived as her arguments were persistent.
"The point is, my lazy darling, the heir to this house and this Fountain must be born of love, and love is receiving as well as giving. You give too much ... to the Fountain, to your leeches. You must learn to accept in return."
"I'm doing fine, thank you."
"Rabbit piss. You're killing yourself, inside and out. Your body rejuvenates your blood, but what rejuvenates your spirit?"
"Love."
"You don't know the meaning of the word. Won't so long as you surround yourself with these sycophants."
"Speak from experience, do you, Mother?"
"Yes."
I hadn't been expecting so plain an answer, wasn't accustomed to the cold, determined expression on her face.
"Were they to see you as you truly are-" she began, but I interrupted: