"Sheri S. Tepper - Shadow's End" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

The less thought about all that the better. Still, she was peevish when Leelson seemed more fascinated
by the pregnancy than he was by her. She said this, laughing at herself.

"It's not true," he assured her. "I am passionately fond of you, Lutha Tallstaff. You are like a dinner full of
interesting textures and flavors, like a landscape full of hidden wonders. I am not ignoring you in all this."

True. When one had a Fastigat for a lover, one could not complain of being ignored. One's every whim
was understood; one's every mood was noted. For the most part, one's every desire was satisfied, or
thwarted, only to make the satisfaction greater when it occurred. If a Fastigat lover was not forthcoming,
it was not through lack of understanding. Sometimes Lutha felt (so she told me) she was understood far
too well. Sometimes she longed for argument, for passionate battle, for a sense of her own self back
again. Pride kept her from showing it, that and the fear that Leelson would accommodate her. Only a fool
would take on an opponent who could block every thrust before it was made.

It was easier during those early months after Leely was born, for then Leelson switched at least part of
his searching intelligence from her to the child, leaving Lutha to her udderish moods and mutters while he
hovered over the infantender, forehead creased, feeling his way into that little mind.

"Like a maze," he'd said, almost dazedly. "All misty walls anddazzling spaces. Hunger or discomfort
comes in like jagged blobs of black, and the minute he eliminates or burps or takes the nipple, he's back
to dazzling spaces again."

"No faces?" she'd asked, disappointed. Babies were supposed to recognize faces. Like baby birds,
back when there had been birds, recognizing the special markings of their own species. Eyes, nose,
mouth: that configuration was supposed to be instinctively recognized by humans. Lutha had read about
it.

"Well, I can't feel faces," he'd replied. "No doubt they're there."

Later he postulated that Leely recognized something else or more than faces. Some quality unique to
each person, perhaps. Some totality.

"He's not one of us, I'm afraid. Not a Fastigat." Leelson had shaken his head ruefully over the
four-month-old child. It was then Lutha admitted to herself what she had refused to consider before:
Leelson was disappointed at not having a Fastigat son. Virtually all Fastigat sons were empaths, at least.
If she'd had a daughter, it wouldn't have mattered!

"Hardly fair," she'd muttered, wanting to weep. "Sexist!"

He'd smiled charmingly, the way he did. Fastigats were almost always charming. "Not my fault, Lutha. I
didn't design it. It's sex-linked, that's all."

"You'd think biologistsтАФ"

He hadn't let her finish. "Well, of course our women say attempting to make female Fastigats is
meaningless, because any normal woman is a sensitivity match for a male empath, any day."

He'd made her laugh, hiding his own disappointment. Perhaps even then he'd knownтАФor at least
suspectedтАФthis disappointment wasn't to be the only one.