"Wilder, Cherry - Torin 01 - The Luck of Brin's Five UC - part 02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilder Cherry)

"About the fourth hour after the New Year Shout!" put
in the second twirler who was very hungry. "The Leader
Petsalee will call the dance."
Brin gave them a bird each, and we left them eating.
Diver was curious about Petsalee; how could he be Leader

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I
still and recruit a new band of twirlers? Did this mean we
had misjudged the creature-he had not bought a life but
only escaped Tiath Gargan's massacre?
"Twirlers have their own laws and their own secrets,"
said Brin, "Petsalee must hold great power for them."
We were still passing through a part of the fair given over
to eafingaaaL at~nVvng% tlienw -, came to -a place tor all Vinas
of sports and games. Brushwood fences separated the
stone-placers from the teams of skip-rope and the ringers,
who twitch down wooden pegs from a high stand with a
reed ring attached to a strong thread. A whole pen of
ancients were taking part in a knitting contest, with the
colored work growing before our eyes until it flowed over
their knees, so fast their needles flew. Diver announced that
he could knit; he had had it from his mother and all his
female ancestors. We laughed in disbelief, until Brin
fetched a ball of thread and needles from the knitting
marshal and cast on a few stitches, as she used to do for me,
when I made my winter stockings. Diver took over pretty
unhandily, but he knitted, both first and second stitch;
anything requiring more skill or more than two needles he
said was beyond him.
"Knitters are born," said Brin. "Dorn here is still battling
with his third twist and double plaits. The best knitter I
ever saw was Little Griss, the Luck of Tarr's Five, my birth
Family. He swore he could knit a tent, given the right
thread."
Diver explained, as we walked on into the pottery
market, that knitting had been a dying art on his world, but
had grown up again in something called the Craft Revival.
So we passed on, through the pottery market, the place
for music and singing-where we looked for the Harper-
and the fortune-tellers' lane, where we kept an eye open for
Gordo Beethan. We skirted the edge of the Sun Carpet and
took a side trip into the fixed houses of Otolor, beside the
old curtain walls of the town, now tumbled down and