"Zeddies, Ann Tonsor - Sky Road (Singer 2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zeddies Ann Tonsor)

He raised his head. His voice was still low, but it carried. "My name is Singer, my people the Riders of the Rock. I bring
you a song to save your lives or end them. Will you give me a welcome?"
Sunlight had been gathering at the horizon. It spilled over, dazzling him and touching him with welcome warmth. The Riders drew a quick breath, as if he had materialized from the shadows like a ghost. The bows trained on him were lowered. The Riders did not fear their dead, but they held them in awe,
"The Rock is no more, stranger," the Asharya said.
"It lives in me."
Slowly the Asharya limped closer and dared to touch the stranger's face. There was a collective sigh as they saw that he was flesh and blood, after all.
"I heard of the one they called Singer. They said he was tall, like you, and like you he had golden hair and sky-colored eyes. But the Singer they spoke of bore a scar like a death markтАФ from here to there." The old man's fingers traced a line across the stranger's face from the corner of his eye to his lip. Beneath a smear of blood, the stranger's skin was smooth and even.
' 'A healer took that scar from me."
The Asharya let disbelief show on his face. He had not yet called the stranger a liar, but he did not need to say the word aloud.
"I saw the place where the Rock once stood. All the gatherings of the People sent riders to witness that destruction when we heard the news. We saw a great wound in the earth. We saw many, many dead. It is not possible that one man lived through that. The Rock is no more."
' 'Still I live.'' The stranger held out his bloodied hands, palms up, in the formal gesture of greeting. "There is one way to know who I am," he said. His strange blue eyes locked with the old man's, and the Asharya was the first to look away. But the old man would not touch him. He stared over Singer's shoulder.
"Who are these others who come uninvited, hiding behind your shoulder? Why don't they name themselves?"
"They don't speak as we do," said the man who called himself Singer. "Nonetheless they are my hearth brothers." He beckoned them up where the old man could see them clearly.
"Zhanne,'' Singer said, nodding toward the smallest member of the group, who still came resolutely first. He repeated her name to himself in her own language, silently. Captain Janet Logan, medical corps.
Zhanne had the best grasp of the Riders' language. She understood what was being said, but she maintained a properly expressionless face.
His right-hand brother took back his usual place at Singer's shoulder, and it was good to have him there again.
"Pallia." Pablo Saldivar, Mobile Force. Saldivar looked the most at home of any of them. Much of his strangerfolk clothing had worn out or been given to the others and had been replaced with whatever game they could skin and dress.
"Lyn." Mellyn Greenway, pilot and mechanic. She stepped forward with her hand automatically reaching for a firing button that was not mere. She narrowed her gray eyes and shot the Asharya an evil look.
The last man in the group met the Asharya's eyes with quiet confidence, taking his measure.
"Makho." General Marcus Aurelius Kruger, Mobile Force commander, forcibly retired.
"These are not hearth brothers," the Asharya said. His voice was thick with suppressed anger. "They come wearing the clothing of our enemies and carrying weapons like those which have killed my people."
"Go look on the hillside for the enemies they killed for you," Singer said.
''Wolf kills wolf. Do I ask the victor to eat by my fire?" The Asharya stared him down while Singer held his tongue. He was afraid that if he argued, he would force die Asharya to order him away.
Janet stepped up to the old man before Singer could stop her. ' 'Maybe I don't understand your ways,'' she said. "I am a healer, not a fighter, and I am young. But if I were Grandfather to this people, as you are, I'd be ashamed to hear my children crying with pain while I laid hard words on a man who had shed blood for mem."
Her Thanha was nearly perfect. The Asharya blinked as if she had struck him, but Singer saw a grudging respect in his face. The People liked straight talk.
"The young one is right," the old man said. "Name yourself what you please. It's not our business. You have shed blood for us tonight. We must thank you for that. We have litde to offer in return, however. You must forgive us if we take little pleasure in strangers these days. You have leave to sleep one night by our fire. Then take whatever provisions you need to set you on your journey and farewell." He turned away.
Singer knew then more dian ever that something was badly
wrong. There should not have been a war camp in winter. Children should not have been brought into such danger. And never before had he known a leader of the People to deny the privilege of hospitality to strangers.
Lyn bent to pick up her weapon, brushing off the snow. "That's telling him, Janney," she muttered. "We nearly got blown to shit for him, the old fart. He could at least be polite."
She turned her attention to Singer. "And the same thing to you, chico. We've been humping through the snow for six weeks with you, and the minute we find these folks you've been looking for, you take off without so much as a high sign and leave us to cover your ass."
"It seemed the best thing at the time," Singer said wearily. "I was afraid for you." He wondered if he could find his shirt back there in the snow. He was cold. But the dead men were colder. He did not want to go back among them.
Kruger put a hand on Lyn's shoulder, silently warning her to ease up. "What happens now?" he asked Singer.
"You don't argue with the Asharya," Singer said. "He gave us one night; only deeds will change his mind. Those vitosтАФ were they your people, Makho?"
Kruger shook his head. "No way. They were Deltans, of course, but I've never heard of Consorso forces this far north. We should go through the wreckage to make sure, but I'm certain those were New Peoples' Union vitos. According to the treaty, the Nupis don't belong up here, either. I can't figure what in hell they were doing.''
"Will they come back?"
"Maybe tonight. They weren't expecting ground fire, or they wouldn't have pulled out so fast. We surprised them. When they decide what to do about it, they'll be back, but I doubt if they'll try it in the daytime."
' "That was my thought, too," Singer said.' 'We need to move soon. If Siri has the head to be Asharya, he'll see that. But before he can move, they have to salvage the tents and catch the horses and take care of the wounded. If we can help, maybe he'll talk to us after."
"Speaking of the wounded," Janet said, touching his arm, "you need to get this fixed up."
He brushed her off. "This is nothing. I need to go after those horses. We can't move without them. You and Lyn can stay hereтАФtake care of the people who are really hurt. The old woman
there will be the one in charge. Ask her what to do. Your Than-ha's good enough to get along without me for a couple of hours.''
He walked away while she hesitated.
Lyn came up behind her as she stood looking after him.
"Are you going to let him walk away like that? What the fuck is smokhY him, anyway?"
"His Rock is gone," Janet said sadly. "He knows that. But still, in his heart, all the way up here he's been thinking mat he's coming home. He just had his nose rubbed in it again. Cut him some slack, Lyn. There isn't much else we can do for him right now. He'll be back."
She blew on her numb fingers, trying to rub some sensitivity back into them.
"In the meantime we have work to do. I'm going to make a surgical tech out of you. One easy workshop, no money down, employment guaranteed."
The pale sun had passed its highest point by the time the riders came back with as many horses as they had been able to find. Saldivar rode behind Kruger on a recaptured bay stallion. Kru-ger had surprised everyone by remembering that he had once known how to ride. A boy came running to meet Singer as soon as he had dismounted.
"The healers want you," the boy said, half-shy of him, half-pleased to see the stranger up close. "The black-haired stranger woman is in their tent. She's asking for you."
Singer knew what waited for him in the tent and knew that he could not leave Janet alone there any longer. He followed the boy, making his way carefully among the wounded. The worst hurt had been lifted onto the sleeping ledge, where they could be as comfortable as possible. The warmth inside felt good to him, but me smell of blood was maddening. He saw one or two of the healers glance sharply at him. He was creating a disturbance. It was a relief to seek out Janet's familiar presence, though he knew at once that she wanted something from him.
"Where have you been?" she asked. She straightened up from her cramped positionтАФshe had been crouching over a body on the ledgeтАФbut she held her hands out stiffly in front of her, not touching him. They were sticky with blood.