"Andre Norton - The X Factor 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

his mother had died, the Scout had been traced by the Service as was the
regulation, so that he might express his wishes concerning the future of his
child. And the answer had come back, "Missing, presumed dead," an epitaph for
many a First-in Scout. But Fentress had not died in the black wastes of space,
where a meteor hit had doomed his ship to drift. Instead, lie had been picked
up by an alien explorer, outward bound on a quest similar to his own, the hunt
for planets to be occupied by a rapidly expanding race. And among the people
of his rescuer, Renfry had found a home, a new wife. When he was again able to
establish contact with his own people, he had received the now years-old
report of his son's birth. Since his new marriage, happy as it was, could have
no offspring, he had hunted that son, eager to bring him to Vaanchard, where
Renfry had taken his optional discharge. Vaanchard was wonder, beauty, the
paradise long dreamed of by Renfry's species. Its natives were all grace,
charm, intelligence governed by imaginationтАФa world without visible flaw,
until Renfry brought his son to shatter the peace of his household, not once
but many times overl Diskan dropped his hands from his ears, suffering the
discomfort of sound. He held them up to survey the calloused palms, the
roughened fingers. In spite of soothing lotions, the fingertips could still
snag fine garments, window hangings, any bit of fabric he touched. They could
smash, too, as they had tonight! There was a smear of blood across the ball of
his right thumb. So he had more than memory to remind him of what had happened
back there, where the bell-toned notes were rising and falling in a wistful
pattern of music that was not human but that sang in the heart, was a part of
the body. Light, sound, and, now that he had unplugged his ears, he could hear
laughter. It was not aimed at him. They were so kind, so intuitive. They did
not use laughter as a. weapon; they did not use any weapons. They only
overlooked, forgave, made allowances for himтАФeternally they did that! If he
could only hate them as he had hated Ulken and his like! There was a fuel in
hatred to feed a man's strength, but he could not hate Drustans, nor Rixa, nor
Eyinada, their mother and now his father's wife. You cannot hate those who are
perfect by your standards; you can only hate yourself for being what you are.
The movement of his fingers enlarged the bead of blood on his thumb. It
trickled sluggishly, and Diskan licked it away. "Deesskaann?" The Lilting song
of his nameтАФRixa! She would come and find him. There would be no mention of
shards of gem blue on the white floor. No one would ever mention again a
priceless wonder that had been reduced to splinters in an instant after
centuries of treasuring. If they had raged, if they had once said what he knew
they thoughtтАФ that would make it easier. Now Rixa would want him to go back
with her. No! Diskan stood up. The carved bench swayed. He watched with a
second of detached acceptanceтАФ was that about to crash into ruins, too? Then
he stepped behind the seat, moving with the exaggerated care that had been a
part of him ever since he had come to Vaanchard, knowing at the same time it
would be no use, that he would trample, smash, blunder, that wreckage would
mark any path he would take through this dream world. He could not retreat to
his own quarters; he had done that too many times in the past few days. They
would look for him there first. Nor could he continue to hide out in the
garden with Rixa on the hunt. Diskan surveyed the lighted building. Music, the
coming and going of forms before all those windows, no hiding place unlessтАФ
One darkened room on the lower floorтАФ He made a hurried count to place those
two windows. He could not be sure, but they were dark and drew him, as a hurt