"Sheri S. Tepper - Gate to Women's Country" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

Corrig had known that it was certain.
тАЬI wish for your sake heтАЩd come home to us,тАЭ Spring said, repeating some adult comment she had
overheard. Spring was only eleven, still a little girl. She would be slenderer than Susannah, and prettier.
For Stavia, looking at Spring was like looking into the mirror of her own past. Now the girl added her
own perceptive comment. тАЬI knew he wouldnтАЩt come back. He never really cared about us.тАЭ
She knew more than I, Stavia thought, looking deep into Spring's eyes.
тАЬWhat are you thinking?тАЭ Corrig murmured into her ear as he warmed her tea.
тАЬOf me when I was almost Spring's age,тАЭ she said. тАЬLong before I knew you. Of my first trip to the
Warrior's Gate when we took my little brother, Jerby, to his warrior father.тАЭ She turned to her mother,
murmuring, тАЬRemember, Morgot. When you and Beneda and Sylvia and I took Jerby to the plaza.тАЭ
тАЬOh, so long ago,тАЭ Beneda, overhearing, interrupted with a little explosion of breath. тАЬI remember it
well. So very long ago.тАЭ
тАЬI remember,тАЭ said Morgot, her face turning inward with a kind of intent concentration. тАЬOh yes,
Stavia. Of course I remember.тАЭ

STAVIA HAD BEEN TEN. She remembered kneeling in the kitchen, picking at her bootlace to
make it lie absolutely flat. It was a bargain that she had made with the Lady. If she learned the whole
Iphigenia play, word for word, and if she cleaned up her room and did the dishes by herself and then
dressed perfectly, without one dangling button or wrinkled bootlace, then they wouldnтАЩt have to give
Jerby away. Not ever. Not even though her older sister, Myra, was already standing in the doorway,
impatiently brushing the five-year-oldтАЩs hair to get him ready.
тАЬStavia, if you donтАЩt hurry up with those boots, Myra and I are going to leave you behind.тАЭ Morgot
had arranged the blue woolen veil over her head for the tenth time and had stood before the mirror,
running her fingers over her cheeks, looking for lines. She hadnтАЩt found any lines in her beautiful face, but
she had looked for them every day, just in case. Then she had stood up and begun buttoning her long,
padded ceremonial coat. Time to go.
тАЬI'm hurrying,тАЭ ten-year-old Stavia had said.
тАЬStand still,тАЭ Myra commanded the little boy she was brushing. тАЬStop fidgeting.тАЭ She sounded as
though she were about to cry, and this took Stavia's attention away from her boots.
тАЬMyra?тАЭ she said. тАЬMyra?тАЭ
тАЬMother said hurry up,тАЭ Myra commanded in an unpleasant voice, fixing her cold eye on Stavia's left
foot. тАЬWeтАЩre all waiting on you.тАЭ
Stavia stood up. The arrangement she had made wasnтАЩt going to work. She could tell. Not if Myra
was almost crying, because Myra almost never cried except for effect. If something was bad enough to
make Myra cry for no discernible advantage, then Stavia couldnтАЩt stop it, no matter what she did. If she
were older, then she could have tried a bigger promise, and maybe Great Mother would have paid
attention. At age ten one didnтАЩt have much bargaining power. Of course, Morgot and Myra would tell her
there wasnтАЩt any reason to make promises or seek changes because the Great Mother didnтАЩt bargain. The
deity didnтАЩt change her mind for womenтАЩs convenience. Her way was immutable. As the temple servers
said, тАЬNo sentimentality, no romance, no false hopes, no self-petting lies, merely that which is!тАЭ Which
left very little room, Stavia thought, for womanly initiative.
This depressing fatalism swelled into a mood of general sadness as they went down the stairs and into
the street. Her mother's friend Sylvia was there with her daughter Beneda, both of them very serious-
looking and pink-cheeked from the cold. Sylvia's servitor Minsning stood to one side, chewing his braid
and wringing his hands. Minsning always wrung his hands, and sometimes he cried so that his bulbous
nose turned red as an apple. There were other neighbors, too, gathered outside their houses, including
several serving men. Joshua, MorgotтАЩs servitor, had gone away on business, so he wasnтАЩt able to tell Jerby
good-bye. That was sad, too, because Joshua and Jerby had been best friends, almost like Stavia and
Beneda were.
тАЬOur condolences go with you,тАЭ a neighbor called, dabbing at the inside corners of her eyes with a