"Ursula K. LeGuin - Earthsea 4 - Tehanu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Le Guin Ursula K)

Maybe we can get some milk. And then, if we can go on, if you think you can walk on up to the FalconтАЩs
Nest, weтАЩll be there by nightfall, I hope.тАЭ
The child nodded. She opened her bag of raisins and walnuts and ate a few. They trudged on.
The sun had long set when they came through the village and to OgionтАЩs house on the cliff-top. The
first stars glimmered above a dark mass of clouds in the west over the high horizon of the sea. The sea
wind blew, bowing short grasses. A goat bleated in the pastures behind the low, small house. The one
window shone dim yellow.
Goha stood her stick and ThermтАЩs against the wall by the door, and held the childтАЩs hand, and knocked
once.
There was no answer.
She pushed the door open. The fire on the hearth was out, cinders and grey ashes, but an oil lamp on the
table made a tiny seed of light, and from his mattress on the floor in the far corner of the room Ogion said,
тАЬCome in, Tenar.тАЭ




Ogion
She bedded down the child on the cot in the western alcove. She built up the fire. She went and sat down
beside OgionтАЩs pallet, cross-legged on the floor.
тАЬNo one looking after you!тАЭ
тАЬI sent тАШem off,тАЭ he whispered.
His face was as dark and hard as ever, but his hair was thin and white, and the dim lamp made no spark
of light in his eyes.
тАЬYou could have died alone,тАЭ she said, fierce. тАЬHelp me do that,тАЭ the old man said. тАЬNot yet,тАЭ she
pleaded, stooping, laying her forehead on his hand.
тАЬNot tonight,тАЭ he agreed. тАЬTomorrow.тАЭ
He lifted his hand to stroke her hair once, having that much strength.
She sat up again. The fire had caught. Its light played on the walls and low ceiling and sent shadows to
thicken in the corners of the long room.
 тАЬIf Ged would come,тАЭ the old man murmured.
тАЬHave you sent to him?тАЭ
тАЬLost,тАЭ Ogion said. тАЬHeтАЩs lost. A cloud. A mist over the lands. He went into the west. Carrying the
branch of the rowan tree. Into the dark mist. IтАЩve lost my hawk.тАЭ
тАЬNo, no, no,тАЭ she whispered. тАЬHeтАЩll come back.тАЭ
They were silent. The fireтАЩs warmth began to penetrate them both, letting Ogion relax and drift in and
out of sleep, letting Tenar find rest pleasant after the long day afoot. She rubbed her feet and her aching
shoulders. She had carried Therru part of the last long climb, for the child had begun to gasp with
weariness as she tried to keep up.
Tenar got up, heated water, and washed the dust of the road from her. She heated milk, and ate bread
she found in OgionтАЩs larder, and came back to sit by him. While he slept, she sat thinking, watching his
face and the firelight and the shadows.
She thought how a girl had sat silent, thinking, in the night, a long time ago and far away, a girl in a
windowless room, brought up to know herself only as the one who had been eaten, priestess and servant of
the powers of the darkness of the earth. And there had been a woman who would sit up in the peaceful
silence of a farmhouse when husband and children slept, to think, to be alone an hour. And there was the
widow who had carried a burned child here, who sat by the side of the dying, who waited for a man to
return. Like all women, any woman, doing what women do. But it was not by the names of the servant or
the wife or the widow that Ogion had called her. Nor had Ged, in the darkness of the Tombs. Nor-longer
ago, farther away than all-had her mother, the mother she remembered only as the warmth and lion-color