"Wilder, Cherry - Torin 01 - The Luck of Brin's Five UC - part 01" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilder Cherry)

old. He was a good Luck, for he had made it his calling; he
was "a Luck out of the bag".
Every Luck has suffered some misfortune: there ar(
dwarfs and cripples, the blind, the deaf, the mad and th(
half-mad. I have never seen a hunchback who was not tht
Luck of some Family or some grandee. It is equally correct
to adopt as a lucky person someone who has lost a leg or
been scarred in a fire or maimed in some other fashion,
though some say a "born Luck" is best.
Odd-Eye said to me, when my turn came, "Cheer up,
Dorn. I have dreams for you that are as fine as Blacklock's
mantle."
I could not help smiling. We had often talked in summer,
at the loom or in the woods, of Blacklock, the swaggering
hero from Rintoul. I had half-persuaded Odd-Eye to take
me downriver, across the plains, to see the great city of
Rintoul and watch Blacklock perform his feats. The fame of
Blacklock had certainly reached our mountain. Hunter
Geer, who had visited Rintoul, claimed to have shaken
Blacklock by the hand, but Hunter Geer is a liar.
. "Now Dorn, you must take me!" said Odd-Eye in a
quavering voice. "Take me out to the lakeside, to our rock

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under the burned tree, and I will have a last try. I must find
my dear Family a replacement."
They looked sideways at me, to make sure I was not
afraid, then Harper Roy bound Odd-Eye upon our sled
wrapped in the thickest rugs we had and covered with our
only wolf pelt. I was wrapped up just about as tightly, and
when the wind dropped, I started on my way.
Before I left, Old Gwin came up with a basket of hot
stones and three roasted graynuts that she had been saving.
The stones went at Odd-Eye's feet to warm him, and I had
a warm pocketful of graynuts. I have had to laugh, since
those days, when I have heard scholars in Rintoul swear
that the "primitive Moruia" use no fire. Indeed we were
chary of fire ... our home was made of flaxen cloth pulled
over a tree! I never saw a blaze or a flame in our glebe, but
we certainly used fire in winter, and we warmed our food.
A point in the scholars' favor is this: we never spoke of fire
or called a flame, a flame. We were superstitious. Old Gwin
made us say instead "the Kind One".
It was a weaver's mile to the lakeside; but after the first