"K. D. Wentworth - Tall One" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

in a scattered semicircle, neckfrills already spread to catch the first slanting
rays of the rising sun. He hesitated in the doorway, his fingers gripping the
frame. Uncertain of their mood, he made himself cross the threshold.

A khe raised its muzzle. "Tall one comes back from rocks."

"No." Johannes swallowed hard. They were still confusing him with Father Gareth.
"Tall one does not come back. Tall one is dead." He touched his own chest. "This
one Father Johannes." Whistletalk did not permit true reproduction of human
speech phonemes, but he used the rhythm of the syllables while assigning them
tones.

The rows of khe stared at him in stony silence. He knew they didn't use personal
names, and yet, why not? They understood the concept of nouns, and how could he
explain about God and Jesus and the saints if he could never refer to them by
name? Just because the khe had no names now didn't mean they couldn't learn.
"Father Johannes," he whistled again, pointing at himself. "You make same
sound."

The only movement was the nervous dance of paper-thin tongues, then, one by one,
they turned their green eyes away and drifted into the feathery silver-sage. His
hands clenched as he watched them glide away. Not now, not when he was so close!
He could feel they were on the very edge of comprehension. Just a few minutes
more and he might be able to at least begin to lead them to God.

"Wait!" he whistled and ran to block one's path. He touched his chest. "Make
sound -- Father Johannes, Father Johannes!"

The khe hissed and drew back, its head weaving in confusion, its black tongue
flickering. "Light," it said. "This one go light."

"One time!" Gasping in the too-thin air, Johannes stepped in front of it again
as it tried to slither around him. "Make sound!"

The startled khe fastened needle-teeth in his upper arm and tossed him aside
with one shake of its muscular neck. His head struck the rectory steps with a
sharp burst of pain, and then a black nothingness swallowed him.

His head throbbed and sharp edges bit into his flesh, weighing him down, making
it even more difficult to breathe than usual. His eyes opened, but he saw only a
faint grayness.

Where was he? Panic surged through him. He couldn't breathe. He had to get up!
He struggled to move his arms, his legs. Finally, with a grating rattle, his
right leg moved a few inches and whatever was holding him down rolled away,
partially freeing his right arm as well. He wriggled and squirmed and more
weight slid away until he finally could sit up.

Rocks surrounded him, covering his torso and left leg, ranging in size from
pebbles to fist-sized stones. He stared numbly. The khe must have thought he was