"Zach Hughes - Killbird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Zach)

"I beg to be considered, honorable father," I said, bowing my head.

Strongarm merely glared at me. He had his hardax in one hand, and he
extended it, granting me the boon with the traditional motion, but then
Strabas was looking past him, her sun-browned skull showing the same
delightful shape as Yuree's own lovely head.

"It is only the Haired One, then?" Strabas asked, looking around in
disappointment.

"It is early yet," Strabo said.

Even as he spoke I heard movement behind me and turned to see not
one but two premen trudging up the slope carrying a pile of buythings.
Yuree, daughter of the family head, would receive many offers. I
recognized, behind the pile of buythings, Logan, son of Logman. His
browned skull gleamed in the light of the early sun, and my heart sank.
How could I even dream of being considered when the most handsome
premen of the family would be piling their buythings in front of the
Strongarm hidehouses?

"Eban of the Hair," Strabas said, watching Logan move closer with
obvious approval, "are you not son of the dead Egan the Hunter? And was
not his pairmate the daughter of Siltan the Wise?"

"I know the intent of your questioning, honorable mother of us all," I
said, bowing my head. "I have talked with the Seer of Things Unseen, and
you need have no concern, for it is recorded that my mother, daughter of
Siltan the Wise, was not daughter of his loins but prize of battle, thus
there is no blood taboo."
 "Yes, it is true," Strabo muttered, although it seemed to pain him to say
such.

I could not fault the pairmate of our family head for her concern.
Inbreeding is the enemy of any family, and the all but starving weaklings
of the low slopes are proof of that, mating indiscriminately with no
thought of the future.

"Humph," Strabas said, turning her attention to Logan, who placed his
buythings carefully and put his hardax, not nearly as good as mine, atop.
Logan looked at me and rubbed the top of his head meaningfully, his
fingers sliding over the slightly oily surface of his skull. I looked away. My
own skull still tingled from its daily scraping.

Now others began to arrive, until, by the time the sun was burning
away the mist, there were eleven premen, all unpaired, waiting in front of
the Strongarm hidehouse. It was then that Yuree chose to make her
appearance. I felt my face burn and knew the pleasant weakness of my
knees which I had begun to feel long before she was due to come of age.