"Laura Resnick - Enter the Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

remembered the pointed-heel footprints I had once found mingled with the blood
of my three-legged dog, and I knew the tropical night guarded the secrets of
another realm. I was ready to risk everything for Chikki, but I would not let
her risk her safety in the lush, shrieking darkness.
I carried a torch the night I went to meet Chikki, a flaming lantern to
frighten away night-hunting cats, the yellow jaw-tommygoff, and the feisty
peccary. I kept to the path which, to my relief, did not disappear after dark.
Without the torch, though, I'd have lost it in minutes and stumbled blindly
into the reaching arms of the rustling trees, thick with vines and heavy with
the scent of orchids. For the first time ever, I wondered why my father had
not taken a torch with him the night he had wandered away from our village and
into the forest; didn't he know he would surely get lost without one?
Ignoring the gibbering, growling, and chattering of the night, I
summoned the courage of young manhood and plunged into the heart of darkness,
impelled ever forward by love, excitement, and, yes, a young man's desire for
his bride. The strength of my passion must have shielded me, I thought, for no
Sisimito came forth to admire my flaming torch, and the bloodthirsty,
yellow-faced, four-fingered Duendes stayed hidden in their lairs. Even the
normal, earthy sounds of the jungle faded away as I recklessly thrust through
the bush, until the night was still and only the sound of my breathing
remained. And that was when I heard her song for the first time.
It was a song without words, a lullaby without beginning or end. It
entered my mind slowly, stealing across my senses as twilight steals across
the sky, until I realized that I had been listening to it for some time. It
was a woman's voice, soft, sweet, and warm. But what woman would be in the
jungle at night? Only one that I could think of.
"Chikki?" I called. She must have grown impatient waiting for me, or
perhaps she was afraid of being seen at our meeting place. "Chikki? Is that
you?"
The song grew stronger, as if she were calling to me. She was much
nearer now. Off the path, somewhere in the dense foliage to my right.
"Chikki?"
A woman's laughter. Light, happy, alluring. My heart started to pound.
"Chikki? Where are you?" More laughter, beckoning me. "Chikki, come out
of there. You'll get lost."
The song, sweet with promise, drew me to the edge of the path and
invited me into the wild unknown. Her voice rose and fell smoothly, lilting
and entrancing. I had no thought of resisting as I stepped off the well-worn
path and entered the night.
The jungle reached out for me, its branches enfolding me, its vines
reaching up to embrace my legs. I stumbled and strayed, but the song always
guided me back to her, until I could feel her all around me.
"Where are you?" I cried at last, still not seeing her.
There was laughter over my head. I looked up into the branches of a
vast, leafy sapote tree. There sat the Ixtabay, combing her hair. And such
hair it was! Blacker than night, it rippled like water and shone like polished
obsidian. It was so long that she could sit on it, and it caught the
flickering light of my torch and glittered like the night sky embedded with
stars.
In her pale hand, she held a jewel-encrusted comb -- a gift from some