"Darksaber (Kevin Anderson)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

"It's more nutritious than leather... I think," Luke said. He turned his
metal eyetubes toward Han, who could detect no expression on the wrapped-up
face. Han became disoriented if he swiveled his head too fast while looking
through the small holes in the eyetubes.

As the Sand People finished their meal, they gathered around the blaze as
a tall Raider hunched near the brighter part of the fire. From the careful way
he moved, the slow placement of limbs-not to mention the silent reverence the
other Tuskens granted him-Han got the impression that this was a very old
person.

"The storyteller," Luke's voice said in his ear.

Other Raiders brought out long poles and unfurled bright clan banners
marked with jagged slashes, some sort of violent written language. These must
be totems, symbols not seen by the outside world at all.

A young, wiry Raider sat next to the storyteller. Others came back from
their bantha saddles with trophies, visual aids for the story. They held out
scraps of rough cloth, a bloodied banner. Han saw battered and cracked
stormtrooper helmets like the skulls of fallen enemies; a luminous milky gem
the size of his fist, which Han recognized with a start as a krayt dragon
pearl, one of the rarest treasures ever to come from Tatooine.

The old man raised up his bandage-wrapped hands and began to speak. The
other Raiders sat enraptured as stories spilled out in low grunts and barely
recognizable sounds that might have been words.

Luke translated for Han. "He's telling of their exploits, how they took
an entire stormtrooper regiment many years ago. How they slew a krayt dragon
and took the pearls out of its gullet. How they defeated another Tusken clan,
slaughtered all their adults, and adopted their children into the clan,
thereby increasing their numbers."

The storyteller finished his tale and squatted lower, gesturing to the
young apprentice who glanced around. Two Tusken Raiders stood on either side
of the boy, holding their gaffi sticks with the axheads pointing down at the
apprentice. The storyteller raised a trembling hand and turned it sideways
like a knife blade. The apprentice hesitated for a moment and began to speak
slowly.

"Now what?" Han said.

Luke answered. "That boy is being trained as the clan's next storyteller.
The Tuskens believe very much in inflexible tradition. Once a story is set
down as an oral path, it must remain forever unaltered. This boy has learned
the story: he is now telling about a raid on a moisture farmer who attempted
to bring peace between humans and Jawas and Sand People."