"Vonda N. McIntyre-The Mountains of Sunset, the Mountains of Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntyre Vonda N)

would long be dead, and thou wouldst not have met me."
The youth took her hand and grasped it tightly. "If you were dead-- "
She drew back, opening long fingers so her wing spread across her body. "I will die," she said. "Soon.
But I want to fly again. I will see one new world, and then I will have seen enough."
"I wish you wouldn't talk of dying."
"Why? Why have we become so frightened of death?" The youth rose, shrugging, and let the tips of
the striped wings touch the floor. The vestigial claws clicked against the metal. "Maybe we're not used to
it anymore."
The old one perceived the remark's unconscious depth. She smiled, and began to laugh. The youth
looked at her, as if thinking her mad. But she could not explain what was so funny, that they had reached
for the perils of the stellar winds, and found only safety and trepidation.
"What's the matter? Are you all right? What is it?"
"Nothing," she said. "Thou wouldst not understand." She no longer felt like laughing, but exhausted and
ill. "I will sleep," she said, having regained her dignity. She turned her gaze from the beautiful youth.
***


Waking, she felt warm, as if she were sleeping in the sun on a pinnacle of rock with the whole world
spreading out around her. But her cheek rested against chill metal; she opened her eyes knowing once
more where she was.
The youth lay beside her, asleep, wing outstretched across them both. She started to speak but
remained silent.
She felt she should be angry, but the closeness was too pleasurable. Guilt sprang up, at allowing this
child to retain desire for the love of one about to die, but still the old one did not move. She lay beneath
the caressing wing, seeking to recapture her dreams. But the youth shifted, and the old one found herself
looking into dark, gold-flecked, startled eyes.
The youth pulled away. "I am sorry. I meant only to warm you, not to..."
"I... found it pleasant, after so long in this cold metal. I thank thee."
The youth gazed at her, realizing gradually what she had said, then lay down and gently enfolded her
again.
"Thou art a fool. Thou dost seek pain."
The youth rested against her, head on her shoulder.
"I will only call thee 'thee,' " she said.
"All right."
***


The flying chamber enclosed half the levels of a segment two twelfths of the habitation wide. Its floor
and its side walls were transparent to space.
The old one and the youth stood on a brilliant path of stars. On one side of them, the sails rippled as
they changed position to hold the ship on course. They obscured a point of light only slightly brighter than
the stars that formed its background: the sun of the home planet, the star this ship and a thousand like it
had abandoned. On the other side, a second star flared bright, and even the old one could see the
changing phases of the spheres that circled it.
The youth stared out at the illuminated edge of their destination. "Will you be happy there?"
"I'll be happy to see the sky and the land again."
"A blue sky, without stars... I think that will be very empty."
"We became used to this ship," the old one said. "We can go back again as easily." She turned, spread
her wings, ran a few steps, and lifted herself into the air. The takeoff felt clumsy, but the flying was more
graceful.