"Raymond E. Feist - Conclave of Shadows 1 - Talon of the Silver Hawk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

Kieli resembled his grandfather more than his father, for they both shared the olive skin which turned
nut-brown in the summer and never burned, and in his youth Grandfather also had hair the colour of a
raven's wing. Others remarked that an outlander must have joined their family generations ago, for the
Orosini were a fair race, and even brown hair was unusual.

Kieli's grandfather had whispered, 'When the gourd is empty, on Midsummer's day, remember this: if the
gods haven't already provided you with a name, that means you're allowed to choose one you like.' And
then the old chieftain had smothered him in a playful, but still-strong, hug that sent him stumbling along
the path. The other men in the village of Kulaam looked on, smiling or laughing, for the festival would soon
be upon them and the time of the naming vision was a joyous time.

Kieli remembered his grandfather's words and wondered if any boy actually had his name bestowed
upon him by the gods.

Examining the gourd, he judged he would be out of water by midday. He knew he would find water at a
brook halfway down the path to the village, but he also knew that meant he had to leave the ledge when
the sun was at its zenith.

He sat silently for a while, thoughts of his village dancing through his mind like the splashing foam of the
brook behind the long hall. Perhaps if he set his mind free, he thought, if he didn't try too hard to find his
vision, it would come to him. He wanted to return soon, for he missed his family. His father, Elk's Call At
Dawn, was everything the boy hoped to be, strong, friendly, kind, resolute, fearless in battle, and gentle
with his children. He missed his mother, Whisper Of The Night Wind, and his younger sister, Miliana, and
most of all, he missed his older brother, Hand Of The Sun, who had returned from his own vision but two
years earlier, his skin burned red by the sun, except for a pale print of his own hand where it had rested all
day upon his chest. Their grandfather had joked that Hand was not the first boy to have come to his vision
while asleep. Hand had always been kind to his younger brother and sister, taking care to watch over
them when their mother was out gleaning the field, or showing them the best places to find ripening
berries.

Memories of those berries, crushed with honey and served on hot bread made his mouth water.

The celebration would be joyous, and the thought of the food that waited below gave Kieli cramps of
hunger. He would be permitted to sit in the long house with the men, rather than in the round house with
his mother and the other women and children. He felt a pang of loss at that thought, for the singing of the
women as they oversaw the domestic chores of the day, their laughter and chatter, the gossip and the
jokes, had been a part of his daily life for as long as he could remember. But he also looked forward with
pride to being allowed to sit with the men of the clan.

His body shivered uncontrollably for a moment, then he sighed and relaxed as the sun warmed him
further. He let his stiff muscles loosen, then moved to his knees and attended to the fire. He placed a few
fresh twigs upon the glowing coals, then blew upon them, and in a few minutes it was done. He would let
the flames die down after the mountain air warmed up, but for now he was thankful for the nearby heat.
He sat back against the rocks, which were warming with the sunlight despite the lingering chill in the air,
and took another drink. Letting out a long sigh, he glanced at the sky. Why no vision? he wondered. Why
had he received no message from the gods granting him his man's name?

His name would be the key to his na'ha'tah, the secret nature of his being, that thing which only he and
the gods would know. Other people would know his name, for he would proclaim it with pride, but no one