"Gray, Julia - Guardian 03 - The Crystal Desert" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

much. In fact, why would Alyssa feel anything towards the other girl? She didn't even know her. Had she just been in the way, making the exchange between the two friends more difficult? Another possibility occurred to him then, prompted by what he'd learnt about the djerboas' dance. 'And for a man and a woman to see it together . . .' Could it be that Alyssa had felt an irrational and quite unjustified surge of jealousy, because of his friendship with the little girl? She had, after all, accused him of falling in love with Esera. Don't be absurd, he told himself. That's a ridiculous idea. Kala had simply mistaken Alyssa's presence for something else entirely.
Nevertheless, for the first time ever, Terrel found himself suffering a few qualms about when and where Alyssa would next appear. And his promise to introduce Kalkara to her now seemed rather unwise.
'So what's outside the dome?' Terrel asked.
'Fire,' Mlicki replied.
The two boys were walking beside one of the pack camels, near the centre of the long line that made up the Toma's caravan. Kalkara rode high above them, atop the bundles tied to either side of the animal's saddle-harness. She seemed to have no fear of heights, and occasionally even stood up to get a better view ahead - in spite of the fact that the camel's lurching gait would have sent most people tumbling to the ground.
'Fire?' Terrel repeated, trying hard not to laugh. He had to remind himself that every creed should be respected, no matter how peculiar or misguided it seemed to him. 'So what's beyond that?'
Mlicki gave him a strange look.
'The First Fire,' he said patiently, as if his companion simply hadn't heard what he'd said. 'The fire that gave birth to the land, to the winds, to the music of life, to everything. There isn't anything beyond that. How could there be?'
Terrel had no answer to this. He had come across many odd beliefs on his travels, but this was the most bizarre yet.
'Have I got this right? The world, all of Nydus, is surrounded by a revolving copper dome. The stars are holes through it, to the fire beyond, and the sun is just a bigger hole.'
Mlicki nodded, choosing to ignore his friend's faintly sceptical tone.
'What about the moons?'
'They're inside, of course, hanging on chains.'
Although Terrel was tempted to ask why these chains couldn't be seen, he knew that Mlicki would have what - to him at least - was a plausible answer. The chains would be hidden on the far sides of the moons. Or they would be too thin to be visible from below. Terrel might think the idea ludicrous, but it apparently made sense to the Toma.
'If the dome is made of copper,' he asked instead, 'why is the sky blue?' Even as he spoke, he recognized that this was an unfair question. He saw the sky, and everything in it, very differently, but he had no idea why it was blue either. He'd always thought of it as empty space, but surely that would be black, as it was at night. So how did the sky turn it blue?
'I've forgotten,' Mlicki replied, unconcerned. 'One of the storytellers will know. You can ask them at the kappara-tan.'
'When will that be?'
'Four days from now, when the White Moon is full. We should reach the well at Chlendi before that, and I'm pretty sure that's where Vilheyuna would've chosen at this time of year. The elders, and Zahir, have agreed.' There was a certain pride in his voice now.
'They must trust you, if they're taking your advice on such an important matter.'
'They think I learnt what to do from Vilheyuna,' Mlicki confessed, sounding less confident now, 'but I'm just guessing really.'
'I'm sure it'll go well,' Terrel assured him, but wondered how Zahir would react if it did not.
They walked on in silence for a while, and Terrel's thoughts returned to the events of the previous day. He was half relieved, half disappointed that Mlicki didn't seem to have been aware of the silent, one-sided conversation between Terrel and Kalkara. Naturally enough, the two friends had talked about what had happened, but Terrel had simply repeated the tale he'd told Algardi and Bubaqra, and Mlicki had accepted this at face value, giving no hint that he might have heard anything more.
As far as Terrel could tell, his healing of Kalkara had restored Mlicki's faith in him. And although Terrel had not been able to explain how Kala had been hurt, Mlicki recognized that his friend had no motive to cause the girl any harm. His sister was well again, and that was all that really mattered.
Kalkara herself seemed to have forgotten about the entire episode, and was treating Terrel exactly as she had before. He couldn't help wondering if she was able to simply block out unwanted memories. Glancing up at her now, he could only guess at what was going on behind those clear blue eyes.
'We should be stopping soon,' Mlicki said, interrupting Terrel's thoughts.
'Is there a well near here, then?'
'Not a permanent one. Between here and Chlendi we have to find what we can.'
'But there isn't anything!' Terrel exclaimed, looking round at the parched, dusty terrain.
'There might be,' Mlicki replied. 'Beneath the surface. Algardi will have sent scouts to spot the most likely places to dig.'
'How do they do that?' The search for water was central to the Toma's existence. In their language the word for it was indistinguishable from the word meaning 'life'. Wells and oases were vital to their wanderings, but this was the first time Terrel had thought about what would happen when they couldn't reach such a place.
'They look for where the white crystals shine.'
'Salt?' Terrel guessed.
Mlicki nodded.
'It forms a thin crust on top of low-lying sand.'
'But surely any water below that would be undrinkable?'
'Sometimes, but not always. Even if it is salty, at least the camels can drink.'
'But what do we do?'
'The same as if we don't find any crystals,' Mlicki replied. 'We go thirsty. We survive on what we're carrying with us, and go on until we do find water.'
An hour later, the site for their temporary camp had been chosen, and the nomads sprang into action, gathering their camels and unloading tents, food and other necessities for an overnight stop.
'There. Look,' Mlicki said, indicating a nearby hollow.
Terrel turned to where the boy was pointing, and saw the faint glitter of crystals in the light of the lowering sun.
'Looks like your eyes, doesn't it,' Mlicki remarked.
Chapter Nine
Medrano had enlisted the aid of several children to collect the many pebbles he needed for the ceremonial mosaics. Apart from the full circle of the White Moon, both the Amber and Red Moons were about three-quarters full, and only the fourth member of the quartet would be represented by a smaller crescent shape, matching its unseen presence in the sky above.
Kalkara was among the artist's helpers but, unlike all of the others - who obediently brought only stones of the appropriate colours - she chose to bring an assortment of different hues, simply because she thought they were pretty. Some of the other children scoffed at her stupidity, but Medrano knew better and accepted them graciously. Rather than discard them, he put them aside and in due course - once the four moons were complete - he incorporated the girl's offerings into the sand picture that lay at the centre of the square marked out by the mosaics. This picture showed an infant surrounded by childish
things - toys, a feeding spoon, a wrapping cloth, and so on. At the end of his kappara-tan, Zahir would destroy the picture, symbolically demonstrating all that he had left behind now that he was a man. The fact that the picture would only last for a few hours did not mean that Medrano would take any short cuts in its creation. Like all that he made, this would be a true work of art, and -watching him as he dribbled sand between his fingers, then shaped and shaded it with his thumbs - Terrel could only marvel at the nomad's skill. He would not have believed that such beautiful depictions, with all their subtle variations of light and dark, were possible using such basic materials. Kala watched too, and was clearly delighted with the results of her own labours.
As dusk drew in, fires were lit both to provide warmth and light and to start the cooking for the feast that would follow the ritual. The nomads usually existed on a nutritious but monotonous diet, based almost entirely on the milk from their camels. However, they also ate bread - which they baked on curved metal sheets balanced on stones over their fires - and supplemented this with the small purple onions and various herbs that grew in a few places in the desert. Wolf-berries and dates were a welcome addition to any meal whenever they could be obtained. And for special occasions, there was also meat. Camel raisers usually looked down on those who herded sheep and goats, but they were not above trading for these animals when necessary. Hot stones had been put into metal cauldrons to cook mutton stew, and several goat carcasses were being roasted whole over the campfires, filling the air with mouth-watering scents.
As Terrel wandered through the camp, observing the evening's preparations, he felt slightly out of place. The fact that everyone else seemed to have some task to complete made it all too obvious that he was an outsider.
The Toma were all wearing their finest attire, the robed men carrying their best daggers in colourful belts, the women in dresses and cloaks of the most ornate weaves and patterns, with remarkable arrays of jewellery around their necks and wrists. Many of these adornments were valuable as well as beautiful, crafted in talismanic designs that often depicted one or more of the moons. Bubaqra had told Terrel that in the past women and children had been immune to the depredations of war. Not even the most depraved raiders would have thought to harm them or steal from them - and this was one reason why many nomads had stored up much of their wealth in gold and gemstones for their wives and daughters. In recent years, however, this code of honour had not always been adhered to. What had happened to Mlicki's tribe was proof enough of that. As a result, such finery was now only worn on special occasions - and this was obviously a matter of regret for the nomads' matriarch. Seeing her now, proud and smiling at the heart of her clan, Terrel couldn't help wishing that, in some things at least, time could be reversed. He also wished he had finer clothes to wear, so that he too could have dressed in an appropriate manner for the celebrations.
The air of excitement intensified as darkness drew in, but Terrel could sense an underlying uncertainty too, a nervousness that hung in the air like the smoke from the fires. At first he thought this was because the nomads were afraid of raiders coming upon them while they were preoccupied with the ceremony - though sentries had been posted as usual - but it wasn't long before he understood the real reason. He had already gathered that this night was significant for the Toma, over and above Zahir's coming of age. No one would talk about it openly, but it was clear that certain decisions were to be made, decisions that would affect the nomads' future. And the man who should have played a central role in making these judgements was, to all intents and purposes, absent.