"David Eddings - The Dreamers 03 - Crystal Gorge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

The fish were biting enthusiastically that morning, and the boy had caught several dozen of them even
before the sun rose up above the mountains.

It was about midmorning when his tall uncle, the eldest son of the tribal chief, came up along the
graveled riverbank. Like all the members of the tribe, his uncle wore clothes made of golden deerskin,
and his soft shoes made little sound as he joined his young nephew. ‘Your father wants to see you, boy,’
he said in his quiet voice. ‘You did know that he has quite a few things he wants you to do today, didn’t
you?’

‘I woke up sort of early this morning, uncle,’ the boy explained. ‘I didn’t think it would be polite to
wake anybody, so I came on up here to see if I could catch enough fish for supper this evening.’

‘Are the fish biting at all?’

‘They seem to be very hungry today, uncle,’ the boy replied, pointing toward the many fish he’d laid in
the grass near the riverbank.

His uncle seemed quite surprised by the boy’s morning catch. ‘You’ve caught that many already?’ he
asked.

‘They’re biting like crazy this morning, uncle. I have to go hide behind a tree when I want to bait my
bone hook to keep them from jumping up out of the water to grab the bait right out of my fingers.’

‘Well, now,’ his uncle said enthusiastically. ‘Why don’t you keep fishing, boy? I’ll go tell your father

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 Crystal Gorge

that you’re too busy for chores right now. A day when the fish are biting like this only comes along once
or twice a year, so I think maybe our chief might want all the men of the tribe to put everything else
aside and join you here on the riverbank.’ He paused and squinted at his nephew. ‘Just exactly what was
it that made you decide to come here and try fishing this morning.’

‘I’m not really sure, uncle. It just sort of seemed to me that the river was calling me.’

‘Any time she calls you, go see what she wants, boy. I think that maybe she loves you, so don’t ever
disappoint her.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, uncle,’ the boy replied, pulling in yet another fish.

And so it was that all of the men of the tribe came down to the river and joined the red-haired boy. The
fishing that day was the best many of them had ever seen, and they thanked the boy again and again.

The sun was very low over the western horizon as the boy carried the many fish he’d caught that day up
over the berm to the lodges of Lattash, and all of the women of the tribe came out to admire the boy’s
catch, and even Planter, who seldom smiled, was grinning broadly when he delivered his catch to her.

And then the boy went on down to the beach to watch the glorious sunset, and the light from the setting
sun seemed almost to lay a gleaming path across the water, a path that seemed somehow to invite the