"C. L. Moore - Song in a Minor Key" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

SONG IN A MINOR KEY

Beneath him the clovered hill-slope was warm in the sun. Northwest Smith moved
his shoulders against the earth and closed his eyes, breathing so deeply that
the gun bolstered upon his chest drew tight against its strap as he drank the
fragrance of Earth and clover warm in the sun. Here in the hollow of the
hills, willow-shaded, pillowed upon clover and the lap of Earth, he let his
breath run out in a long sigh and drew one palm across the grass in a caress
like a lover's.

He had been promising himself this moment for how longтАФhow many months and
years on alien worlds? He would not think of it now. He would not remember the
dark spaceways or the red slag of Martian drylands or the pearlgray days on
Venus when he had dreamed of the Earth that had outlawed him. So he lay, with
his eyes closed and the sunlight drenching him through, no sound in his ears
but the passage of a breeze through the grass and a creaking of some insect
nearbyтАФthe violent, blood-smelling years behind him might never have been.
Except for the gun pressed into his

ribs between his chest and the clovered earth, he might be a boy again, years
upon years ago, long before he had broken his first law or killed his first
man.

No one else alive now knew who that boy had been. Not even the all-knowing
Patrol. Not even Venusian Yarol, who had been his closest friend for so many
riotous years. No one would ever knowтАФnow. Not his name (which had not always
been Smith) or his native land or the home that had bred him, or the first
violent deed that had sent him down the devious.paths which led hereтАФhere to
the clover hollow in the hills of an Earth that had forbidden him ever to set
foot again upon her soil.

He unclasped the hands behind his head and rolled over to lay a scarred cheek
on his arm, smiling to himself. Well, here was Earth beneath him. No longer a
green star high in alien skies, but warm soil, new clover so near his face he
could see all the little stems and trefoil leaves, moist earth granular at
their roots. An ant ran by with waving antennae close beside his cheek. He
closed his eyes and drew another deep breath. Better not even look; better to
lie here like an animal, absorbing the sun and the feel of Earth blindly,
wordlessly.

Now he was not Northwest Smith, scarred outlaw of the spaceways. Now he was a
boy again with all his life before him. There would be a white-columned house
just over the hill, with shaded porches and white curtains blowing in the
breeze and the sound of sweet, familiar voices indoors. There would be a girl
with hair like poured honey hesitating just inside the door, lifting her eyes
to him. Tears in the eyes. He lay very still, remembering.

Curious how vividly it all came back, though the house had been ashes for
nearly twenty years, and the girlтАФthe girl . . .