"Justine Larbalestier - Strange Horizons - The Cruel Brother" - читать интересную книгу автора (Larbalestier Justine)

In the morning their father's wife was garlanding Greta in hugs and fretting about
the dress. Greta's father was grave but pleased. The rest of her sisters and
brothers covered her in kisses and congratulations, laughing at the manners of
William, who had gone down on his knees before each and every one seeking
their consent. Everyone but Hans, who kept himself scarce from the house. His
wife Beth did not come down the stairs once that week before the wedding,
though there was plenty of work to be done.


Hans was not at the kirk that Sunday. First light had seen him disappear and
they could not find him, though they called and called. The four couples were
wed without him. Greta knew she was right to be wearing the ring and joining
her hand to that of William Colven, though there was no heat in her blood to be
near him. It does not matter, she told herself. I've had all the heat I need, and
now my stomach is bairn-full with it.


Her father set her on her milk-white mare; William adjusted her cloak and then
he took the bridle. Hans stood silent at the kirkyard gate. Greta smiled to see
him. Her heart felt light, though his face was long. As they reached the gate,
Hans asked his sister for a kiss and Greta leaned over the saddlebow. Then all
the world slowed. Greta could not tell exactly how it went: she felt his mouth
against her cheek, heard him whisper words in her ear so that it tickled. His
breath smelt fresh and good. He was in close to her, and then so too was his
knife, and he wounded her deep.


Greta's eyes grew wide but she uttered no sound. Her Hans stood back from
her. He walked away. She opened her mouth to stay him, but nothing came out.


Toward the town William led her on the horse, chatting merrily to his best young
man and the other brides and grooms and folk of the wedding procession, and
all the while her heart's blood stained her gown.


"I think this bride looks pale and wan," the best young man told William, smiling.
"It's well she be modest and a small pinch afraid."


There was laughter but Greta heard none of it, for she was fixed on her heart's
steady leak. William patted her thigh and smiled at her. "I won't hurt you, my
love."


Greta heard that this husband of hers made a sound, but not what he said. "You
did not ask his leave," she whispered. She thought of a house with walls sweet
and slippery and slick. Then she saw the slight rise of a hill and a tree broad and
strong. "Lead me gently," she said. Blood leaving her, words too; she wondered
how much time was left to her. "The tree -- I'll sit down, I'll make my will." Only