"Timothy Zahn - The Green and the Gray" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

The preliminaries finished, Cyril and an elderly Gray with a long scar on his left cheekтАФHalfdan,
she vaguely remembered his nameтАФled the way down the steps into the lower part of the park,
Melantha and her escort behind them, the rest of the observers joining in behind her. They walked
past the small flower garden which she had been told would be her final resting spot, and she found
herself wondering whether the flowers would come up extra beautiful in the spring because of it. The
grass seemed springier beneath her feet than usual, though that might have been the strange shoes
she'd been given to wear along with the ancient ceremonial clothing. Pinned high on her left
shoulder, the unaccustomed weight of a trassk tugged uncomfortably at her dress.


file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Timothy%20Zahn%20-%20The%20Green%20and%20the%20Gray.htm (2 of 424)22-12-2006 15:57:21
The Green and the Gray

They continued past the garden to the chosen spot between a pair of majestic oaks. A few more
Greens were waiting there, eyeing and being eyed in turn by three more Grays silently hanging onto
the side of the fifteen-foot stone wall that separated the lower part of the park from the upper
promenade they'd just come from. The Gray leader beside Cyril gave a quiet order, and the Grays
reluctantly came down from their perches, joining with the rest of their group. The lights of
Riverside Drive blazed cheerily down from beyond the wall, and Melantha wondered briefly what
would happen if some passerby stumbled upon the drama about to unfold. But most of the Humans
who lived in the area were already nestled into their apartments for the night, and the wall and height
differential effectively shielded them from anyone who might still be out.
She looked around her, trying to get a last taste of the world before she left it forever. The bare
branches seemed to be calling to her as the wind brushed them together, and she found herself
almost overwhelmed by the delicate scents of the grass and the earth and the trees themselves. Here
and there above her, she could see stars peeking through the haze of the city, and even the traffic
noise seemed muted tonight. It was, a small part of her mind whispered, a fitting place, and a fitting
way, for a Green to die.
Even one who was only twelve years old.
The groups had shuffled into their positions for the ceremony, forming a loose circle with Melantha,
her escort, and Cyril and the Gray leader in the center. "Melantha Green," Cyril said, his voice dark
and solemn, "we have gathered here tonight to do that which must be done for the survival of our
two peoples. Understand that what we do, we do for the best. We ask your forgiveness, and that of
your family, and promise to dedicate ourselves to assuring that your sacrifice will not be in vain."
"I understand," Melantha said. As last words, she thought distantly, they were pretty pathetic. But the
sadness and dread had seized her again, and how her death was remembered by others didn't seem
very important. Her parents were out of her line of sight, and she thought about turning around and
making sure they were still there.
But she resisted the urge. This was going to be hard enough on them without leaving a last, lingering
look to ache forever in their memories.
"Thank you, Melantha," Cyril said. He took a step back, and nodded to her escort.
One of the Warriors stepped from her side and turned to face her. With his eyes carefully avoiding
hers, he reached his hands up and got an almost gentle grip around her throat.
And began to squeeze.
Reflexively, she tried to twist out of his grip, her hands darting up of their own accord to grab at his
wrists. But he'd been prepared for the reaction, and his adult Warrior's strength was far beyond that
of a twelve-year-old girl. The blood roared in her ears, drowning out all other sounds, but in her
mind she could feel the anguished calls coming from the Greens over what had to be done, even
from those like Cyril who had persuaded them that it was the only way. Lancing through it all like
lightning through storm clouds was the last call from her parents, a vibration of fear and pain and