"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 10 - The Black Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

'Marka, dearest?' Keeta said. 'I'm sorry. There's something wrong with him.'
Marka tried to answer, but her throat filled with tears. Her youngest son, not
yet two years old, sat on a red and blue carpet in a patch of sunlight that
spilled through the tent door. He was frowning at the edge of the brightness;
over and over again he would reach out a pale brown hand and touch the shadow
next to it, then draw his hand back and frown the harder. Tight brown curls
hung over his forehead; now and then he would bat at them as if they bothered
him, only to forget them again in an instant.
'He does know his name,' Marka said. 'He may not have any other words, but he
does know his name.'
Keeta sighed and sat down next to the boy, who ignored her. They made an odd
pair, Keeta so massive and dark, Zandro so slender and pale. Even though she
had taken over the business end of managing their travelling show, Keeta still
juggled, and her long arms sported muscles many a man had envied over the
years. In her curly black hair, which she wore cropped close to her skull,
grey sprouted at the temples.
'I've been afraid for months,' Marka said at last. 'He still can't use a
spoon.'
'Is it that he can't use one?' Keeta held out her hand to Zandro. 'Or that he
simply won't?'
Zandro whipped his head around and bit her on the thumb. Calmly, without
speaking, Keeta put her other hand under his chin, spread her fingers and
thumb, and pressed on both points of his jaw. With a squeal he opened his
mouth and let her go.
'That's better,' Keeta said to him. 'No biting.'
His head tilted to one side, he considered her. She pointed to the teeth marks
on her thumb.
'No! No biting!'
All at once he smiled and nodded.
'Very good,' Keeta said. "You understood me.'
This he ignored; with a yawn he returned to his study of the edge between
light and shadow.
'Ah ye gods!' Marka said. 'Just when I think it's hopeless, he'll do something
like that. Understand a word, I mean, or even do something kind. When Kiwa
fell and cut herself yesterday? He came running and kissed her and tried to
help.'
'I saw that, yes. At times he's really very sweet.'
Marka nodded. In the twenty years since her marriage, she'd borne nine
pregnancies, not counting the miscarriages. Six of the children had lived past
infancy - Kwinto, their first-born son; Tillya, the eldest daughter; Terrenz,
born so soon after Tillya that they loved each other like twins; their sisters
Kiwa and Delya, named after Keeta's long-time companion, who had died in the
same fever that had killed another infant son. Zandro would, she hoped, be the
last. She wondered how she was going to find the love and strength to deal
with him, who would demand more of both than all the rest of them put
together. Keeta must have been thinking along the same lines.
'It's not like you don't have enough troubles on your mind already. What with
Ebany's' - a long pause - 'illness.'
'Oh, come right out and say it!' Marka snapped. 'He's gone mad. We all know
it. And now his youngest son is obviously mad, too. Why are we all being so