"Garry Kilworth - The Sculptor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kilworth Garry) belong to him. The love of the lady though, no matter how savagely he
battled, could never be his. If she withheld it, could not feel such for him, then he was helpless, because he could never in a million years wrench love from her grasp like a water bottle. A craft came along the river, silently, the helmsman apparently happy for the most part to let it follow the current. The cargo was sheltered from the sun by a palmleaf thatched cabin, which covered the deck with an arch-shaped tunnel. The sail was down, unnecessary, even a hindrance in the fast flow. As the boat went by, NiccolЄ was able to peer inside, through a window-hole in the thatch. A giant of a man sat in the dimness within: a clumsy-looking fellow, appearing too big for his craft, but a man with peace, contentment, captured in his huge form. He was knitting. His great hands working the wooden needles while his elbow occasionally twitched the tiller, as if he could steer sightlessly. It seemed he knew the river so well - the meanders, the currents, the sandbars and rapids - had travelled this long watery snake for half a century - he needed no eyes. Maybe he could feel the flow and know to a nautical inch, a fraction of a fathom, where he was in time and space? Perhaps he navigated as he knitted woollen garments, both by feel, on his way to the sea. NiccolЄ signalled to the man, and received a reply. Afterwards he made camp by the river that wound beneath the star patterns visible in the clear sky. The campfire sent up showers of sparks, like wandering stars themselves, and though NiccolЄ did not know it they gave in the heavens. The following morning, NiccolЄ woke to the sound of camels grumbling, kicking their hobbled legs, shaking their traces. The horse took no part in this minor rebellion. A nobler creature (in its own mind) it held itself aloof from dissident camels. NiccolЄ fed the camels, then he and the horse ate together, apart from the other beasts. Three days out into the desert, NiccolЄ came across the woman. Her lips were blistered and he had trouble forcing water past them. When she opened her eyes she said, "I knew you would come. I saw your fire," then she passed out again. In the evening he revived her with some warm jasmine tea, and soon she was able to sit up, talk. She was not a particularly pretty woman. At a guess she was about the same age as he was, in her very early thirties. Her skin had been dried by the sun, was the colour of old paper, and though it was soft had a myriad of tiny wrinkles especially around the eyes and mouth. Her stature was slight: she could have been made of dry reeds. She wore only a thin cotton dress. "What are you doing out here?" he asked her. "Looking for water," she said, sipping the tea, staring at him over the rim of the mug. He gestured irritably. "I can see that, but how did you get lost? Were you part of a caravan?" She shook her head, slowly. |
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