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

The crop of chil-dren in her parentsтАЩ home had reached seven since she had left them eight years ago;
and all her little brothers and sisters whistled birdcalls at her when she whistled to them. Her mother
called her children her flock of starlings; but the birds themselves would come and perch on LilyтАЩs
outstretched fingers, and on no one elseтАЩs.
Lily was riding home from a sprained ankle in a neighboring village, thinking about supper, and
wondering if Karla had had her kittens yet when she realized she was overtaking another traveller on the
road. She did not recognize the horse, and reined back her own, for she dreaded any contact with
strangers; but the rider had already heard her approach and was waiting for her. Reluctantly she rode
forward. The rider threw back the hood of his cloak as she approached and smiled at her. She had never
seen him before; he had a long narrow face, made longer by lines of sorrow around his mouth. His long
hair was blond and grey mixed, and he sat his horse as if he had been sitting on horseback for more years
past than he would wish to remember. His eyes were pale, but in the fading twilight she could not see if
they were blue or grey.
тАЬPardon me, lady,тАЭ he greeted her, тАЬbut I fear I have come wrong somewhere. Would you have the
goodness to tell me where I am?тАЭ
She shook her head, looking down at the long quiet hands holding his horseтАЩs reins, then forced
herself to look up, meeting his eyes. She watched his face for comprehension as she shook her head
again, and touched two fingers to her mouth and her throat; and said sadly to herself, I cannot tell you
anything, stranger. I cannot talk.
The strangerтАЩs expression changed indeed, but the compre-hension she expected was mixed with
something else she could not name. Then she heard his words clearly in her mind, although he did not
move his lips. Indeed, but I can hear you, lady.
Lily reached out, not knowing that she did so, and her fingers closed on a fold of the manтАЩs cloak. He
did not flinch from her touch, and her horse stood patiently still, wanting its warm stall and its oats, but
too polite to protest. WhoтАФwho are you? she thought frantically. What are you doing to me?
Be easy, lady. I amтАФhere there was an odd flickerтАФa mage, of sorts; or once I was one. I retain
a few powers. IтАФand his thought went suddenly blank with an emptiness that was much more awful than
that of a voice fallen silentтАФI can mindspeak. You have not met any of ... us ... before?
She shook her head.
There are not many. He looked down into the white face that looked up at him and felt an odd
creaky sensation where once he might have had a heart.
Where are you going? she said at last.
He looked away; she thought he stared at the horizon as if he expected to see something he could
hastily describe as his goal.
I do not mean to question you, she said; forgive me, I am not accustomed to ... speech ... and I
forget my manners.
He smiled at her, but the sad lines around his mouth did not change. There is no lack of courtesy,
he replied; only that I am a wanderer, and I cannot tell you where I am going. He looked up again,
but there was no urgency in his gaze this time. I have not travelled here before, however, and even a
... wanderer ... has his pride; and so I asked you the name of this place.
She blushed that she had forgotten his question, and re-plied quickly, the words leaping into her
mind. The village where I live lies just there, over the little hill. Its name is Rhungill. That way
тАФshe turned in her saddleтАФis Teskip, where I am returning from; this highway misses it, it lay to
your right, beyond the little forest as you rode this way.
He nodded gravely. You have always lived in Rhungill?
She nodded; the gesture felt familiar, but a bubble of joy beat in her throat that she need not halt with
the nod. I am the apprentice of our healer.
 He was not expecting to hear himself say: Is there an inn in your village, where a wanderer might
rest for the night? In the private part of his mind he said to himself: There are three hours till sunset;
there is no reason to stop here now. If there are no more villages, I have lain by a fire under a tree more