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

animal might search out a hollow log for temporary shelter. The tide of his
misery ebbed a little as he bent his mind to the problem of reaching that
promised retreat undetected. Clumps of bushes dotted the ground, and he could
avoid the one glowing statue. Under the music and voices from the house, he
heard the trilling call of a night flying varch. A varch! With a little luckтАФ
"DeesskaannF* Rixa was on the path not far from the bench. He made for the
next bush and crouched behind it. Now he centered a fierce concentration on
the varch, visualizing the wide green wings with their tipping of gem dust,
which created a filmy aura when it flew, the slender neck, the top-knotted
head. VarchтАФ Diskan thought varch, tried to feel varch. Suddenly that call
sounded to his right, beginning as a trill and ending in a squeak of terror.
The green body flashed out of the shadow, winged toward the path. Diskan heard
a second startled cryтАФfrom Rixa. But he was on the move, slipping from one bit
of cover to the next, until he stood under the nearest of those dark windows,
reaching up for the sill. No mistake nowтАФno clumsy fall. Please, no breakтАФjust
let him get into the dark and the solitude he must have! And for once, one of
his formless prayers was answered. Diskan spilled through the window to the
floor, the sweep of curtains veiling him. He sat there, panting, not with
physical effort, but with the strain of steeling himself to master his body.
It was several seconds before he parted the curtains to inspect the room. A
single low light let him see that he had taken refuge where indeed they might
not look for himтАФthe room that was Renfry's. Here were kept the travel disks
from his Scout trips, the trophies from his star wandering, all mounted and
displayed. It was a room that Diskan had never before had the courage to enter
on his own. On his hands and knees, he crawled from behind the curtains, to
sit crouched in the middle of the open space, far from anything he could brush
against or knock over. He laced his heavy arms about his upthrust knees and
looked about him. A man's life was in this room. What kind of showing would
his life make if the remnants of his passing were set on shelves for viewing?
Broken bits and pieces, smudged and torn fabricsтАФand the slow, stupid words,
the wrong actions that would not be tangible but that made smudges and tears
inside himself and others. Diskan's hands went up again to his head, not to
muffle the sighing music, the hum of voices from beyond walls and door, but to
rub back and forth across his forehead, as if to ease the dull ache that had
been ever present during his waking hours on Vaanchard. But he did not seem
stupid to himself, at least not until he tried to translate into action or
words what he thoughtтАФas if inside him there was a bad connection so that he
could never communicate clearly with his own body, let alone with those about
him. There were things he could do! Diskan's mouth for the first time in hours
relaxed from the wry twist, even shaped a shadow smile that would have
surprised him had he at that moment faced a mirror. Yes, he could do some
things, and not, he thought, too clumsily either. That varch nowтАФ he had
thought of the varch, and then he had thought of what it must doтАФand it had
done it just as he wished, and with more speed and skill than his own hands
carried out any of his brain's commands. That had happened before, when he was
alone. He had never dared try it before others, since he was rated as strange
enough without that additional taint of wrongness. He could communicate with
animalsтАФwhich probably meant he was far closer to them than to his own kind,
that he was a slip-back on the climbing path of evolution. But the varch had
distracted Rixa for the necessary moments. Diskan relaxed. The room was still,