"Andre Norton - Astra 02 - Star Born [4.1]" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Star Born 4.1Star Born
by Andre Norton
etext version 4.1 Ц Aug 11,2002
1. SHOOTING STAR
THE TRAVELERS had sighted the cove from the seaЧa narrow bite into the land, the
first break in the cliff wall which protected the interior of this continent
from the pounding of the ocean. And, although it was still but midafternoon,
Dalgard pointed the outrigger into the promised shelter, the dip of his steering
paddle swinging in harmony with that wielded by Sssuri in the bow of their
narrow, wave-riding craft.
The two voyagers were neither of the same race nor of the same
species, yet they worked together without words, as if they had established some
bond which gave them a rapport transcending the need for speech.
Dalgard Nordis was a son of the Colony; his kind had not originated
on this planet. He was not as tall nor as heavily built as those Terran outlaw
ancestors who had fled political enemies across the Galaxy to establish a
foothold on Astra, and there were other subtle differences between his
generation and the parent stock.
Thin and wiry, his skin was brown from the gentle toasting of the summer sun,
making the fairness of his closely cropped hair even more noticeable. At his
side was his long bow, carefully wrapped in water-resistant flying-dragon skin,
and from the belt which supported his short breeches of tanned duocorn hide
swung a two-foot bladeЧhalf wood-knife, half sword. To the eyes of his Terran
forefathers he would have presented a barbaric picture. In his own mind he was
amply clad and armed for the man-journey which was both his duty and his
heritage to make before he took his place as a full adult in the Council of Free
Men.
In contrast to DalgardТs smooth skin, Sssuri was covered with a
fluffy pelt of rainbow-tipped gray fur. In place of the humanТs steel blade, he
wore one of bone, barbed and ugly, as menacing as the spear now resting in the
bottom of the outrigger. And his round eyes watched the sea with the familiarity
of one whose natural home was beneath those same waters.
The mouth of the cove was narrow, but after they negotiated it they
found themselves in a pocket of a bay, sheltered and calm, into which trickled a
lazy stream. The gray-blue of the seashore sand was only a fringe beyond which
was turf and green stuff. SssuriТs nostril flaps expanded as he tested the warm
breeze, and Dalgard was busy cataloguing scents as they dragged their craft
ashore. They could not have found a more perfect place for a camp site.
Once the canoe was safely beached, Sssun picked up his spear and,
without a word or backward glance, waded out into the sea, disappearing into the
depths, while his companion set about his share of camp tasks. It was still
early in the summerЧtoo early to expect to find ripe fruit. But Dalgard rummaged
in his voyagerТs bag and brought out a half-dozen crystal beads. He laid these
out on a flat-topped stone by the stream, seating himself cross-legged beside
it.
To the onlooker it would appear that the traveler was meditating. A
wide-winged living splotch of color fanned by overhead; there was a distant yap
of sound. Dalgard neither looked nor listened. But perhaps a minute later what
he awaited arrived. A hopper, its red-brown fur sleek and gleaming in the sun,
its eternal curiosity drawing it, peered cautiously from the bushes. Dalgard