"Laura Resnick - Curren's Song" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

"_They_ are. Don't you hear them?"
She shook her head, studying him warily. He flushed and cursed himself
silently as he realized he had done it again. She couldn't hear the silent
songs, the ancient stories, the aching welcome of the lonely voices in the
loch. She couldn't hear, and she would be disgusted because he could. How
could he have known? He knew she heard water kelpies in the dark, even though
he didn't, for she had told him so when they were much younger. But now she
couldn't hear the watery sighs which rolled around them.
He looked away, afraid and ashamed. If only he could learn which
visions were allowed and which weren't, then he could pretend to be like
everyone else and hide the visions which made them all hate him.
"I don't hear anyone," she said.
"It doesn't matter," he said gruffly.
She was silent for a long moment before asking hesitantly, "Why did you
run away?"
He shrugged, not looking at her.
"I wish you had stayed," she said, her voice as soft and soothing as
the rain. "You were right. I wanted them to admit that you were right. Again."
Curren glanced at her bashfully. Encouraged, Aithne continued, "A
stranger came from across the sea, just as you said. They should see that
you're blessed, not cursed."
"I don't feel blessed," he answered bitterly.
"That's because of the way they treat you. But I think you're blessed.
I think your mother was seduced by one of the gods, and he gave you some of
his powers. How else could you see colors around my skin that no one else can
see? How else could you know about things before they happen, and hear what no
one else hears?"
He felt like crying again, and it confused him. "Aren't you ... afraid
of me?" he asked thickly.
"No." The touch of her hand on his was cool, yet it made him burn deep
inside. "No, I'm not afraid."
He looked into her eyes. Green, they were, green like the rain-drenched
hills, like sprouting leaves, like moss on a rock. "I'm glad," he said at
last.
Her fingers tightened over his. After a while, she said, "Tell me what
you hear."
"It's not important."
"Yes, it is," she insisted. "I want to know things. Things that no one
else knows, that only you and I will know."
He shyly laced his fingers with hers. "There are living things in the
loch," he began.
"Salmon, eels -- "
"More than that," he interrupted. "This is like ... a clan."
Aithne frowned at the opaque water far below them. "No clan could live
in the water."
"These aren't people."
"Then what are they?"
"I'm not sure. They're ... like monsters, I suppose."
Her eyes widened. "Monsters?" Her voice quavered slightly.
"They look like, oh, like things you see sometimes in paintings left by