"Juliet Marillier - Wolfskin 1 - Wolfskin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marillier Juliet)

ears of the god himself. Eyvind joined in the response, his gaze on Thor's staring, formidable eyes. Now
Ingi walked slowly around the temple, bearing the ritual arm-ring on a small embroidered cushion. Over
many hours a fine smith had wrought there an image of the world tree with its attendant creatures: the
serpent Nidhogg at its deepest roots, the noble eagle at its tip, the squirrel Ratatosk scampering between.
The pattern went right around the ring; a man could never see the whole of it at one time. They held the
sacrifice at first frost, at midwinter and in spring; at all other times, this treasure was well locked away
from curious eyes. One hand after another reached out to brush reverently against the gleaming gold: girls'
hands still soft and milk-pale, men's hands branded by axe shaft and bowstring, gnarled old hands that
knew many winters on the land. All moved to pledge allegiance to the warrior, Thor, and to Odin, who
had hung on that selfsame tree in search of wisdom. Even the thralls, clustered like a body of shadows at
the far end near the door, stretched out tentative fingers as Ingi passed.

Karl lifted one of the ritual knives from the altar. The goat was struggling, afraid of the crowd and the fire.
It seemed to Eyvind that the boy who clutched its neck rope could not hold the creature much longer. If
he let go of the rope, the goat would free itself and bolt across the crowded temple in a chaos of hooves
and horns. One could not offend the god thus. Eyvind got up and moved forward, relieving the red-faced
lad of his charge, soothing the animal with soft words and a careful hand.

"Go on, then," he muttered. Karl raised the sacrificial knife; the firelight shone bright from its bronze
blade. Eyvind tightened his grip, forcing the white goat's head back, exposing pink, naked skin where the
hair on the throat grew more sparsely. Perhaps sensing the inevitable, the creature made one last
desperate surge for freedom. But Eyvind's hands were strong. "Hurry up!" he hissed.

The knife came down, swept across. It should have been easy. Karl was a farmer; slaughtering stock
was a routine task for him. But at the vital moment, a bird shrieked harshly above the smoke hole, and
somehow the knife slipped sideways, so the blood did not spurt free and scarlet, but only seeped dark
against the pure white hair. The goat screamed, and went on screaming. The god was displeased. Karl
stood frozen, knowing the omen was bad for them. Thor's eyes were fierce and angry on his back.

"Here," said Eyvind. He took the knife from his brother's fingers, holding the bleeding goat with one hand,
fingers twisted in the rope. His legs were on either side of the creature, forcing its agonized form still. This
must be done well, now, or there would be failed crops, and sick beasts, and death and defeat on the
field of war.

"Iron glove guide my blade," Eyvind said, fixing the god's wooden eyes with his own. "In your name,
great battle god!"

There was only one way to do such things: hard and swift, straight across, near severing the neck. Fast,
accurate, and merciful. How else could a clean kill be made? The screaming ceased. The white goat went
limp. Eyvind's sisters held the bronze bowls to catch the blood. There was no telling what Thor thought of
the manner of it, but at least Eyvind had done his best. He turned to face the folk, helping Karl to lift the
slaughtered goat high so the blood could flow into the bowls. Drops spattered hands, faces, tunics. The
altar bore a pattern of red spots; a bloody tear trickled down the face of the god.

I will kill cleanly for you, Eyvind told Thor, but not aloud. Let me be a Wolfskin, and I will be your
bravest warrior. Braver than Hakon; braver even than Eirik. All that I am, I will give you. He
looked down the temple toward the great assembly of folk, and straight into a pair of eyes so dark, so
piercingly intense that his heart seemed to grow still a moment, then lurch painfully back into life. His mind
had been on Thor, and blood, and sacri-
Juliet Mar ill ier