"Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Hunters of the Red Moon - 1973" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

The other captives in their cell-the hairy creature who gave the impression of more arms and legs than he should have had (Dane decided it was the curious way the limbs were segmented and jointed), a couple of ordinary-looking men and women, a tall narrow-faced creature who seemed covered with dark fur-were finishing their trays of food. One tray had not been touched, and Dane noticed it had the green-and-blue coding that identified human food. He looked around the cell. Yes; on a low bunk beside the wall, a slender form lay motionless, enveloped in a long white robe, the face turned away from them.

Dane said, "What's the matter with that one? Hurt, sick, dead?"

"Dying," Rianna said quietly. "She has refused food for ten meal-periods now. She is an empath from Spica Four; they prefer to die, when away from their worlds. It won't be long now. It's all we can do for her now-to let her die in peace."

Dane looked at the redheaded woman with a throb of revulsion. "And you're all just sitting here and _letting her starve herself to death?"

"Of course," Rianna said indifferently. "I told you, they _always die, away from their own world and their own people."

"And it doesn't bother you!" Dane burst out passionately.

"Oh, it bothers me." Her voice was quiet "But why should I interfere with her chosen fate? Sometimes I think she is wiser than we."

Dane's face set in lines of disgust. He scrambled to his feet and picked up the extra packet of food. He said, "Well, _I'm not going to sit here and watch a woman die.

if I can do anything about it." He strode across the room to where the woman lay. He was fuming. _Just sit there and let her starve herself to death!

She did not move as he approached her, and for a moment he wondered if she was already dead, or too far gone to be within his reach. He stood for a few moments over her bunk, looking down in a sort of wonder at the beauty of the girl who lay there.

Formless thoughts cascaded through his mind: _This is what I seem always to have been seeking, that elusive something I always thought must be just over the next mountain peak . . . _beyond the next wave . . . _at the end of the rainbow. I didn't know it could be a woman ... _or take a woman's form....

_And she's lying here dying, and we're both hopeless and in prison. Do I see her as all beauty only because it's too late . . .? Does the impossible dream come within reach only when it's forever out of reach?

In a wonder that was beyond pain, he stood motionless, the food tray forgotten and hanging from his hand; then some faint, imperceptible movement like a soft breath made him aware that she was still alive. And at once his formless thoughts of impossible beauty receded in a wash of hard, practical sanity. Forget all that! She was just a girl, lying here slowly dying, but maybe not too far gone yet. The wonder and awe died away in a surge of purely human pity. He knelt down beside her and reached out, lightly, to touch her shoulder.

Before his hand -actually touched her, as if the very clamor of his thoughts disturbed her, she stirred and turned slightly toward him. Her eyes, deep-set beneath feathery dark brows, opened.

She was so pale that somehow he had expected the eyes to be blue; instead they were deep russet-brown, the wide eyes of a forest animal. Her lips moved slightly as if she were trying to speak, but her voice was too weak to be heard; it was only a faint murmur of protest, of curiosity.

He said in a gentle voice, "Here, I've brought your food. Try to eat"

A murmured negative.

"Now listen," Dane said firmly. "This is nonsense. While you're alive you have a duty to all of us; to keep up your strength, in case we have a chance for escape or something like that Suppose we were rescued, or es caped, and you were too weak to move, and we had to carry you, and we were all recaptured because we had to stop and help you along? Wouldn't that be a dreadful thing to do to all of us?"

Her lips moved again and somehow he had the impression of a faint smile, although the limp and strengthless features did not actually move. The words were so quiet that Dane had to bend low to hear.

"Why should any of you ... drink my cup...?"

"Because we're all human and all in this together," he said firmly. But he wondered, were they really? None of them had cared enough to keep the girl alive, and maybe it was that knowledge that had made her want to die. . . .

"Well, anyway, I care," he said, and his fingers sought her hand. "Come on. If you're too weak to feed yourself, I'll feed you." He tore open the package, watching the self-heating element gradually permeate it with steaming heat. He spooned up a little of the soupy liquid and put it to her lips. "Come on, swallow," he said. "Start with this, it's easy."

For a moment he thought she would keep her lips obstinately shut; then she relaxed them and let the soup slip inside, and after a moment he saw her throat move and knew she had swallowed it. He felt a vast, wild sense of elation, but he was careful not to show it, only withdrawing the spoon and raising another careful spoonful to her lips. After two or three more reluctant mouthfuls she stirred as if she wanted to raise herself, and Dane put his arm around her and supported her shoulders; he fed her the soup and a little of the mush, then withheld the spoon when she nodded for more.

"Not just now. You shouldn't eat too much right away after such a long fast; wait a little before you take any more," Dane advised, and she smiled faintly in comprehension as he let her slide down on her pillow. "Yes, try to sleep again now, and next time you'll be stronger."

Her eyes were closing with weakness, but she opened them again with effort and whispered, ". . . are you?"