"Frank Herbert - Soul Catcher" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

Katsuk measured the trail by the 'feeling of it underfoot: soft earth, a dampness where a
spring surfaced, spruce cones, the hard lacery of roots polished by many feet ...
He began to think of his sister and of his former life before Katsuk. He felt the spirits of
air and earth draw close, riding this moonlight, bringing the memory of all the lost tribes.
David thought: Walk as he walks?
The man moved with sliding panther grace, almost noiseless. The trail grew steep,
tangled with more roots, slippery underfoot, but still the man moved as though he saw
every surface change, every rock and root.
David became aware of the wet odors all around: rotting wood, musks, bitter acridity of
ferns. Wet leaves brushed his cheeks. Limbs and vines dragged at him. He heard falling
water, louder and louder -- a river cascading in its gorge off to the right. He hoped the
sound covered his clumsiness but feared the Chief could hear him and was laughing.
Walk as I walk!
How could the Chief even see anything in this dark?
The trail entered a bracken clearing. David saw peaks directly ahead, snow on them
streaked by moonlight, a bright sieve of stars close overhead.
Katsuk stared upward as he walked. The peaks appeared to be stitched upon the sky by
the stars. He allowed this moment its time to flow through him, renewing the spirit
message: 'I am Tamanawis speaking to you ... '
He began to sing the names of his dead, sent the names outward into Sky World. A falling
star swept over the clearing -- another, then another and another until the sky flamed with
them.
Katsuk fell silent in wonder. This was no astronomical display to be explained by the
hoquat magic science; this was a message from the past.
The boy spoke close behind: 'Wow! Look at the falling stars. Did you make a wish?'
'I made a wish.'
'What were you singing?'
'A song of my people.'
Katsuk, the omen of the stars strong within him, saw the charcoal slash of path and the
clearing as an arena within which he would begin creating a memory maker, a death song
for the ways of the past, a holy obscenity to awe the hoquat world.
'Skagajek!' he shouted. 'I am the shaman spirit come to drive the sickness from this
world!'
David, hearing the strange words, lost his footing, almost fell, and was once again afraid.
From Katsuk's announcement to his people:
I have done all the things correctly. I used string, twigs, and bits of bone to cast the
oracle. I tied the red cedar band around my head. I prayed to Kwahoutze, the god in the
water, and to Alkuntam. I carried the consecrated down of a sea duck to scatter upon the
sacrificial victim. It was all done in the proper way.
The immensity of the wilderness universe around David, the mystery of this midnight hike
to some strange ritual, began to tell on him. His body was wet with perspiration, chilled in
every breeze. His feet were sopping with trail dew. The Chief, an awesome figure in this
setting, had taken on a new character. He walked with such steady confidence that David
sensed all the accumulated woods knowledge compressed into each movement. The man
was Deerstalker. He was Ultimate Woodsman. He was a person who could survive in this
wilderness.
David began dropping farther and farther behind. The Chief became a gray blur ahead.
Without turning, Katsuk called: 'Keep up.'
David quickened his steps.
Something barked. 'Yap-yap!' in the trees off to his right. A sudden motion of smoky