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

waking up that other part of her, making it come forward to take over, that other Stavia who could
remember lines and get up on stage without dying of embarrassment. Real Stavia, observer Stavia, who
was often embarrassed and stuttery and worried about appearing wicked or stupid, watched the whole
thing as from a shocked dream state, feeling it all, but not making a single move. It was the first time she
could remember purposely making her everyday self step aside, though it had happened occasionally
before, in emergencies, all by itself.
тАЬMorgot! What an unkind thing to say to the child!тАЭ Sylvia objected. тАЬEven now!тАЭ
тАЬStavia knows what I mean,тАЭ Morgot replied. тАЬShe knows I want no tantrums.тАЭ
Observer Stavia reflected gloomily that she hadnтАЩt had a tantrum for at least a year. Well, part of a
year. She had been so guiltily miserable after the last one, she might never have one again, even though
sometimes she desperately felt like screaming and rolling around and saying, no, she wouldnтАЩt do
whatever it was they expected her to do because they were always expecting her to do something more or
be something more until it didnтАЩt feel like there was enough of her left to go around. Still, it wasnтАЩt really
fair of Mother to bring that up now, and she longed to say so.
Actor Stavia, however, kept her role in mind and merely held her face still as she moved at MorgotтАЩs
side. Myra was on the other side, holding one of Jerby's hands as the little boy stalked sturdily along,
taking two steps to Myra's one. They stopped before the Gate of Warriors' Sons, and Morgot went
forward to strike its swollen surface with the flat of her hand to make a drum-gong sound, a flat, ugly
thum-hump.
A trumpet blew somewhere beyond the gate. Morgot swept Jerby up into her arms and retreated to
the center of the plaza as the gate swung open, Myra and Stavia running at either side. Then there were
drums and banners and the crash of hundreds of feet hitting the stones all at the same time, blimmety
blam, blam, blam. Stavia blinked but held her place. Warriors. Lines of them. High plumes on their
helmets and bright woolen skirts coming almost to their knees. Bronze plates over their chests, and more
glistening metal covering their legs. To either side, groups of boys in white tunics and leggings, short-
hooded cloaks flapping. One tall man out in front. Tall. And big, with shoulders and arms like great, stout
tree branches.
Everything became still. Only the plumes whipping in the wind made any sound at all. Mother
walked forward, Jerby's hand in hers. тАЬWarrior,тАЭ she said, so softly Stavia could barely hear her.
тАЬMadarn,тАЭ he thundered.
His name was Michael, and he was one of the Vice-Commanders of the Marthatown garrison. First
came Commander Sandom, and under him were Jander and Thales, then came Michael, Stephen, and
Patras commanding the centuries. Stavia had met Michael two or three times during carnivals. He was one
of the handsomest men she had ever seen, just as Morgot was one of the most beautiful women. When
Stavia's older brothers, Habby and Byram, had been five years old, each of them, too, had been brought to
Michael. Beneda had said once that this meant Michael was probably Stavia's father also, but Stavia had
never asked Morgot about it. It wasnтАЩt a thing one asked about. It wasnтАЩt a thing one was even supposed
to think about.
тАЬWarrior, I bring you your son,тАЭ Morgot said, pushing Jerby a step or two in front of her. Jerby stood
there with his legs apart and his lower lip protruding, the way he did when he wanted to cry but wouldnтАЩt.
His little coat was bright with embroidered panels down the front. His boots were worked with beads of
shell and turquoise. Morgot had spent evening after evening on those boots, working away in the
candlelight, with Joshua threading the beads on the needle for her and saying soft words to comfort her.
The warrior stared down at Jerby and Jerby stared back, his mouth open. The warrior knelt down, put
his finger to the flask of honey at his waist and then to Jerby's lips. тАЬI offer you the sweetness of honor,тАЭ
he whispered, even his whisper penetrating the silence of the plaza like a sword, so sharp it did not hurt,
even as it cut you to pieces.
Jerby licked his lips, then grinned, and Michael laid his hand on the little boy's shoulder.
тАЬI give him into your keeping until his fifteenth year,тАЭ Morgot went on. тАЬExcept that he shall return
to his home in WomenтАЩs Country during the carnival holidays, twice each year until that time.тАЭ