"Marc Laidlaw - Jane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laidlaw Marc)

hand had been firm inside his heavy glove; and though she must have wailed and
wept, we remained undiscovered; and when I saw the blood and how the thick
leather of the palm had been torn by teeth, I recalled her words when I woke in the
night and saw the ax. I found new comfort in them now.

We had come to rocky country, where the land rose in shelves of tumbled
stone. It was deep in one of these crevices that we laid our mother, covered in the
brittle yellow leaves of bamboo, with rocks chinked in around her like a loose-fit
wall. Olin would not speak, but he worked alongside our Father while I held Anna
and watched. Olin carried Anna the rest of the day, and she did nothing but weep
inside her hood, but my eyes were dry.

In the afternoon, we heard Ash again. This time our FatherтАЩs face grew dark,
and he leant to his falcon and whispered something fierce that roused her. Then he
cast her off.

We climbed farther, then descended into a shallow valley, which was
comforting for the shadows it held. I walked behind Anna and Olin and sometimes
lifted her hood just enough to tickle her lips with a blade of grass, reminding her to
smile. I felt the valley contained a magic that had cut us off from all unpleasantness,
for all afternoon it was quiet. But then we heard something I had hoped weтАЩd left
behind: AshтАЩs screaming and pleading. The cries came on closer and faster than
ever. Olin cried out and took off running with Anna, crashing deep into the jungle
without looking back. But I clung to our FatherтАЩs hand, and he never trembled but
stared at the broken sky through the trees as the sound grew louder and louder. Then
down through the leaves came his falcon, with the sound of AshтАЩs torment circling
round her, and I understood nothingтАФfor how could a bird scream like a boy? She
circled our FatherтАЩs head and dropped a ragged, bloody scrap from her talons to his
hands. Then she settled on his wrist.

He held out his right hand so I could see the quarry. It was fleshy and clear,
like yellowed glass with milky green shapes inside. It was veined and buzzing with
botflies. And it screamed and screamed with my brotherтАЩs voice until our Father set
it on a granite slab and crushed it under his heel.

We looked for Anna and Olin through the rest of the day and long after dark,
not daring to call for them. Finally, our Father pulled me into a cave among the
stones, very much like that in which we had left mother. He devised a perch for his
bird inside the mouth of the cave, though I knew it pained him that she had no room
to spread her wings, for several times I woke to hear him apologizing so deeply that
he wept.

I woke to see distant light, jagged and raw, and heard the sound of voices,
these not screaming but calling out with urgency, very brisk and efficient. Father
crouched in the mouth of the cave, whispering to his falcon where she perched on
his glove. Then he cast her off, and she was gone, with only the faintest sound of a
bell. I wondered that he had not removed her bell, but I think the screams of Ash
must have deafened him to many sounds. Then, still wearing his glove, father took
my hand and tugged me quietly to the threshold, and as we looked over the broken
stones we saw greenish fog creeping through the valley below. All sort of animals