"Sheri S. Tepper - Awakeners 2 - Southshore" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

deadly reluctance. He resolved upon it because staying anywhere near Pamra was
more horrifying than leaving the world in which she moved. If he stayed, he
would have to follow her. And it would be terrible to watch Pamra, to hear of her,
to be told of the crusade. Any of these were more repugnant to him than risking
his own life. He told himself he would welcome death if it meant he need not
realize the danger Pamra ran and go in apprehension of that terror.
"I love her," he said to Medoor Babji. "Whether she is mad or not. I love her."
And he did. His loins quivered at the thought of her. He knew every curve of her
body, and he dreamed of that body, waking in a shaking sweat from agonies of
unfulfilled passion.
And Babji, having observed his obsession over the days that had just passed, was
wise enough to hold her tongue, though she thought, Stupid man, at him, not
entirely with affection. How could she blame him for this unfulfillable desire
when she had a similar one of her own?
Here, in the city of Thou-ne, on the same day Pamra cried crusade in the Temple
of the Moons, Medoor Babji came to Taj Noteen and gave him the tokens she
carried with few words of explanation about the seeker birds, watching his face as
it turned from brown to red to pallid gray, then to brown once more.
"Deleen p'Noz," he said, sinking to one knee. "Your Gracious Highness." The
secret Noor language was used these days only for names and titles, little else.
"We need none of that," she told him firmly. "This is not the courts of the Noor. I
do not need to hear 'Deleen p'Noz' to be recalled to my duty. We are not in the
audience tent of the Queen. Though I am the Queen's chosen heir, we are here,
Noteen, in Thou-ne, as we were this morning when you whacked me with your
whip stock. I've told you what we are to do. I want you to pick me a crew to go.
Thrasne will need his own boatmen, and we cannot expect to live on the deck if
there is storm or rough weather. We must limit our numbers, therefore, to the
space available. Thrasne kindly offers us the owner-house. There are three rooms
for sleeping, with two bunks in each room. There is an office and a salon. Not
large. We can have none among us who will cause dissension."
"Not Riv Lymeen, then," he mused. "How about old Porabji?"
"He has a good mind," she assented. "Which we may need far more than a young

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man's strength. Yes."
Noteen thought about it. "Do we need a recorder? Someone to keep an account?
A journal of the voyage?''
She thought a moment, then nodded. Queen Fibji had not commanded it, yet it
was something that should be done.
"Then Fez Dooraz. He was clerk at the courts for ten years as a younger man. He
looks as though a breath would blow him over, but he's the most literate of all of
us."
She suggested, "Lomoz Borab is sound. And what about Eenzie?"
"Eenzie the Clown?"
"I'd like one more woman along, Noteen. And Eenzie makes us all laugh. We may