"Gene Wolfe - At the Point of Capricorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)

AT THE POINT OF CAPRICORN
by Gene Wolfe

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The children crouched in a circle around the fire, looking skeptical and attentive as
the old woman poked the embers. "It is true that the days have been getting shorter,"
she said. "But that is no reason to be afraid."

"I haven't been scared," the oldest boy announced, and he tossed the bone he
had been sucking into the fire. The others stirred and looked at one another sidelong,
for they had been afraid and knew that he had been too. The old bone cracked and
popped in the heat like green wood.

"That shows how wise you have be come by listening to my stories," the old
woman said, and the oldest boy smiled, then frowned, for she said it so that it cut on
every side, like the jagged ice he sometimes threw. A few snowflakes drifted through
the mouth of the cave, and the smallest girl, who had been made to sit with her back
to it, pulled her wolfskin more tightly about her.

"All the world comes here to the end of the world just to hear my stories," the
old woman said, and the children nodded because they had heard her say that many
times and knew it was true.

"That is so," the viking confirmed, and the children turned to look at him, for
they had not seen him come in.

"Welcome, Knute's son," the old woman said softly.

The viking squatted behind the chil-dren, propping his chin on the haft of
Legbiter, his sword. "Tell them, old woman," he grumbled. "Tell them why we
kindle bonfires in winter to bring back the youth and life of Tyr Odinson the
one-handed, who was stolen from us by the Frost Giants of Niflheim."

"That I will not," the old woman said, "since you yourself already have."

A lexicographer who had been listen-ing at the mouth of the cave stepped
inside, powdered with snow and looking very dusty. "Bonfire has nothing to do
with all that," he said. "Such fires take their name from the bones that were burned in
them at mid-winter."

Knuteson rose and slashed at him with Legbiter, catching him quite
ef-fectively just where the neck joins the shoulder.

The children moaned "Oooh!" in cho-rus, and the old woman spread her
hands before the fire. "It does warm old bones," she said. "Tyr's or mine, and
that's a fact."

A pastry chef who had been watching from the back of the cave cleared his
throat and twisted the left point of his small, black mustache. "Is is for that reason,