"Morris, Janet - Silistra 03 - Wind from the Abyss UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

"Estri, come here."
I went to him, my hand trailing from my cheek to the warm, pulsing band locked about my throat.
When I stood before him, he lifted my face, his hand under my chin, that I might look into his eyes.
"He is very angry, child. You must realize that what you think is as audible to him as what you say. I know it was not intentional, that you read what you did. Forget it, if you can. Concentrate upon what lies before you." He patted my shoulder, all the anger gone out of him.
"I do not want to see him," I said, toying with the ends of my copper hair, grown now well below mid-thigh.
Carth pursed his lips. "You have no choice. He will see you in a third-enth. Make ready." And he turned and strode through the double doors that adjoined my prison to Khys's quarters. Khys, my couch-mate, was again in residence. The dharen of all Silistra, back from none knew where, would again rule at the Lake of Horns.
Make ready, indeed, I thought, combing my hair. I had only the white, sleeveless s'kim I wore; thigh-length, of simple web-cloth. My jewelry was the band of restraint at my throat. I retied the garment upon my hips. Throwing my hair back, I regarded myself in my prison's mirrored wall. My body, copper-skinned, lithe, only shades lighter than my thick mane, postured at me, arrogant. I had thought, for a time, that the he-beast had destroyed it, but such had not been the case. Exercise had given its grace and firmness back to me. My legs are very long, my waist tiny, hips slim. Pregnancy had altered me little. My breasts were still high and firm, my belly flat and tight. Good enough for him, surely. I widened my eyes suggestively, then
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stuck my tongue out at her. She made a face back. I grinned and wondered why I had done so, turning from that wall that ever showed me the boundaries of my world.
At the window, I waited, looking out upon the eastern horn of the lake. The fall flames of Brinar, harvest pass, fired the forest. The grass was losing its battle, browning. Hulions and forereaders and Day-Keepers strolled between the tusk-white buildings that circle the Lake of Horns like some wellwoman's necklace. The green lake was calm and still, wearing the sky's clouds for masquerade.
Angry, was he? I did not care. I cared no more for him than that he-beast he had put upon me. I would not care.
I had cared very much, once. He had been kind to me that first night. I had no recollection of other men before him, though surely there had been some. In my lost past lay all that had occurred before I came to the Lake of Horns in Cetet of '695, two years, two passes back. And I had cared for him, he who first touched me, Khys.
He had told me he would do many things. He had done some. He had put on me a son. He had seen to it that I was reeducated. I had been looked after, but not by him. He had also said that someday the band of restraint I wore would be removed from me, that I might explore my talents. That he had not done. After the pregnancy, he had promised, when I lay near miscarriage by my own hand. But no release had been given me after I birthed him his precious child,
I touched the warm, vibrating band at my throat. I hardly minded its tightness. I could often forget that it was there. But its true significance I could not forget. Khys had explained to me that I wore the band for my own protection, lest the mindless-ness reach up again and take me. I had learned otherwise.
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Early in my pregnancy, when they still humored me, I had begged to be allowed to stay with the forereaders in the common holding, that I might have the company of womankind. Reluctantly, Carth had agreed.
I had sent for him to take me back, weeping, upon the third day. Among the forereaders, I was an outcast. Those born at the Lake of Horns feel themselves better than all others. My skin tone resembles theirs. Those who come from the outside, or "Barbaria," as the Lake-born call it, are an even tighter group. I fit neither. And I was the dharen's alone. They were jealous, commonheld. Or so I thought, until I saw an angry dharener stride into the women's keep and collar a moaning, pleading forereader. So do they punish wrongdoers at the Lake of Horns. As long as she wore the band of restraint, the forereader could not practice her craft. She was isolate. She was blind, deaf, and dumb to mind skills. She could not sort. Neither could she best. She was helpless. She was shamed. She was marked, disgraced. As was I.
When Carth had retrieved me, I had demanded to know, sobbing uncontrollably, what it was I had done.
He had for me no answer, but that I wore the band for my own protection.
But after that, I began to wonder. I wondered until the child began to make itself known within me, until I could think of nothing else. Ravening, it tried to destroy me. In time, I tried to destroy myself, first, that perhaps I would not spawn such evil upon the world. But it would not let me die. It enjoyed too much the torture to which it could subject me from within.
When it was born, finally, after thirteen enths of labor, I refused to look upon it. I would not feed it. They forced me twice, but the he-beast was ,so agitated, red-faced, and howling, and its teeth so
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savage upon me, that they desisted. I had never heard of a child born with teeth, but I had known it would have them. I felt their bite a full pass before the thing demanded exit. I was glad to be rid of it, a pass before it was due.
He could not blame me, surely, if he had seen it. If his mind had touched it, he would not be angry. I leaned back against the window, waiting.
It was more than twice the third-enth Carth had given me before those doors opened and he motioned me to him, his concerned eyes admonishing as I passed by him into Khys's personal quarters.
The dharen stood by the gol table, stripping off trail gear as blue-black as the thala walls. His copper hair glinted golden from the tiny suns, Day-Keeper-made, that hovered near the hammered bronze ceiling.
Carth crossed the thick rust rug, soundless, to speak with him. Then only did Khys look at me. I pressed back against the doors, trembling. His face, in that moment, had been terrible with his wrath.
Carth made obeisance to himf and left the outer doors.
The dharen paid me no mind, but stripped himself of his leathers and weapons. I watched him, the only man that had ever touched me. I had forgotten him, his long-legged grace, his considerable mass so lightly carried, his ruddy, glowing skin.
In his breech, he went and poured himself some drink and took it to his rust-silked couch. Upon it he sat cross-legged, sipping slowly, his eyes regarding me over the bowl's golden rim. The crease between his arched brows deepened. He threw the emptied bowl to the mat, where it rolled silently upon the thick pile. My throat ached, looking at him.
Then I recalled to myself that which he had done to me, and that which he had not done. I
tossed back my hair and pushed away from the door.
"I was told you wished to see me," I said quietly, my fists clenched at my sides.
He stared at me a time in silence through those molten, disquieting eyes. I felt my palms slick under his indolent, possessive scrutiny.
"Take that off," he ordered. "I would see how childbearing left you."
I flushed/but I untied the s'kim and dropped it.
"Turn," he said. Shaking with rage, I did so, kicking my abandoned garment from my path. When I came again to face him, I put my hands on my hips.
"Well?" I demanded, shaking my hair over one breast.
"Do not stand like that!" he snapped. My hands went to my sides. "Come here."
"Khys!" I objected. My head exploded with pain. I sank to my knees, my hands clapped over my ears. But they could not keep out that roaring, Then another pain, and my head was twisted back by the hair. By it, he pulled me up against him.
"How dare you withhold sustenance from my son?" he demanded. I thought my neck would snap. His other hand held my wrists against the small of my back. "How dare you come to me in such arrogance?" He shook my head savagely, his words hissing a fine spray upon my cheek. "You have disobeyed my expressed wishes. You will not do so again. When I am finished with you, you will not be so presumptuous." Lifting me into the air, he threw me against the wall above the couch. I struck it with my back and shoulder with such force that the breath was driven from my lungs.
He stood, spread-legged, looming over me. I did not move. I lay very still, as I had fallen, that I might not further enrage him. My mouth was foul with fear. My mind cried and whimpered. I raised
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