"Robin McKinley - A Knot in the Grain" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinley Robin)

A Knot In The Grain
And Other Stories
Robin McKinley

ISBN 0-06-440604-0

тАЬThe HealerтАЭ first appeared in Elsewhere, Volume II, 1982
тАЬThe StagmanтАЭ first appeared in Elsewhere Volume III, 1984
тАЬToukтАЩs HouseтАЭ first appeared in Faery!, 1985


Contents
The Healer
The Stagman
ToukтАЩs House
Buttercups
A Knot in the Grain


Mary Lou, who brought me to Cumberland Lodge
The Healer
The child was born just as the first faint rays of dawn made their way through the cracks between the
shutters. The lantern-wick burned low. The new father bowed his head over his wifeтАЩs hand as the
midwife smiled at the mite of humanity in her arms. Black curls framed the tiny face; the child gave a gasp
of shock, then filled its lungs for its first cry in this world; but when the little mouth opened, no sound
came out. The midwife tightened her hands on the warm wet skin as the baby gave a sudden writhe, and
closed its mouth as if it knew that it had failed at something expected of it. Then the eyes stared up into
the midwifeтАЩs own, black, and clearer than a new-bornтАЩs should be, and deep in them such a look of
sorrow that tears rose in the midwifeтАЩs own eyes.
тАЬThe child does not cry,тАЭ the mother whispered in terror, and the fatherтАЩs head snapped up to look at
the midwife and the baby cradled in her arms.
The midwife could not fear the sadness in this babyтАЩs eyes; and she said shakily, тАЬNo, the baby does
not cry, but she is a fine girl nonethelessтАЭ; and the baby blinked, and the look was gone. The midwife
washed her quickly, and gave her into her motherтАЩs eager, anxious arms, and saw the damp-curled,
black-haired head of the young wife bend over the tiny curly head of the daughter. Her smile reminded
the midwife of the smiles of many other new mothers, and the midwife smiled herself, and opened a
shutter long enough to take a few deep breaths of the new morning air. She closed it again firmly, and
chased the father out of the room so that mother and child might be bathed properly, and the bedclothes
changed.
They named her Lily. She almost never cried; it was as though she did not want to call attention to
what she lacked, and so at most her little face would screw itself into a tiny red knot, and a few tears
would creep down her cheeks; but she did not open her mouth. She was her parentsтАЩ first child, and her
mother hovered over her, and she suffered no ne-glect for her inability to draw attention to herself.
When Lily was three years old, her mother bore a second child, another daughter; when she was six
and a half, a son was born. Both these children came into the world howling mightily. Lily seemed to find
their wordless crying more fascinating than the grown-upsтАЩ speech, and when she could she loved to sit
beside the new baby and play with it gently, and make it chuckle at her.
By the time her little brother was taking his first wobbly steps it had become apparent that Lily had
been granted the healerтАЩs gift. A young cow or skittish mare would foal more quietly with her head in
LilyтАЩs lap; children with fever did not toss and turn in their beds if Lily sat beside them; and it was usually