"Gray, Julia - Guardian 01 - The Dark Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

'I've been called worse things,' Terrel replied. 'And I'd be the first to admit my eyes are strange. But they're just eyes,' he added, glancing at the child. 'They won't hurt you.'
'Apologize to our visitor, Rico.'
'Sorry,' the boy mumbled unconvincingly.
'Now say it like you mean it.'
'It doesn't matter,' Terrel said quickly. There had been times when children had pelted him with stones and adults had threatened him with far worse, simply because they didn't like the way he looked. Rico's childish dislike was nothing by comparison.
The old man frowned, but did not press the issue, returning after a moment to his original question.
'So you can read the proclamation?'
'Yes.'
'You see, Rico. This is a man of learning, someone to be respected. What is your name, young man? I am called Efrin.'
'Terrel.'
'Ah. Light of the new moon. Your parents were familiar with the old tongue, I see.'
Terrel saw no point in telling the old man that he had never met his parents - whoever they were - and that they had certainly not had anything to do with his naming.
'I used to be able to read such things, but my eyes are going,' Efrin went on. 'It's just a blur now, and soon I won't be able to see anything at all.' There was no self-pity in his voice, simply an acceptance of what was. 'Of course I don't suppose I'd have been able to make much sense of this. Even our underseer can't seem to sort it all out.'
'Your underseer?' Terrel queried. He had never heard this term before.
'A lad called Chenowith. Clever, but still wet behind the ears, if you know what I mean. Two years in Makhaya and he thinks he knows everything. Ha! Well, this proclamation soon gave the lie to that.'
'Grandpa?' Rico said, tugging at the old man's sleeve. 'Can I go and play?'
'I don't see why not. If Terrel here will let me take his arm on the way back to the house.'
'Of course.'
Rico ran off, his relief obvious. Terrel watched him go, knowing that soon all the village children would hear about the peculiar stranger in their midst.
'So will you read this to me?' Efrin said. 'We might make sense of it together.'
Terrel did as he was asked. After a pompous preamble, the text of the notice contained vague references to 'changes in the patterns of the heavens', and then listed a series of dates concerning the cycles of the moons. Particular emphasis was laid on the Dark Moon and the alterations in the periods when it was waxing and waning, especially in comparison to the other moons. It was unnecessarily complicated, and by the time Terrel had finished he was not in the least surprised that the underseer had been confused.
'Well, I think I've got it straight now,' Efrin said doubtfully. 'But what's going on? How could the seers have got it so wrong before? I thought it was all fixed years in advance.'
'Something's different,' Terrel replied. 'Something no one can explain.'
'And it's always us - the farmers and country folk - who are supposed to change our ways because of it,' the old man complained. 'Planting and harvesting aren't things you can do on the whim of some prophet in the city. Look what's happening here!'
'What do you mean?'
'Chenowith is making us run round in circles. That's where the men are now, out in the fields before the corn is even ripe. If we go on like this we'll all starve. And I'll wager it's the same in others places too. The soldiers said they were posting these proclamations in every village in the province. There's only a few of us can read, so that leaves us at the mercy of the underseers, and half of them are incompetent charlatans. It won't be long before the fanatics are spying on everything, making life difficult for ordinary people. What do I care where some eclipse falls as long as there's food on my family's table?' The old man paused and took a long breath. 'At least we've not come to that yet,' he said, calmer again now, 'and I'm forgetting my manners just like a six-year-old. Would you like something to eat and drink?'
'I'd like that very much,' Terrel replied.
Some time later, replete from the best meal he had enjoyed since leaving Havenmoon, Terrel felt his spirits rising. Having been welcomed by Efrin - who was clearly regarded with respect by the villagers - he also seemed to have been accepted by the rest of the depleted community. Gallia, Efrin's daughter and the mother of Rico, had provided the food, and several other adults had slowly gathered to hear him talk. Gallia would not look him in the eye, and most of the others seemed nervous in his presence, but the longer they conversed with the traveller the more comfortable they felt. Only the children remained unconvinced, creeping up to get a peek at the now famous star-filled eyes and then running away, shrieking and laughing at their own daring. For his own part, Terrel was simply grateful to rest and eat without fear or guilt, enjoying the hospitality of Efrin's household. Despite the villagers' evident curiosity, he talked about himself as little as possible, lying only when he had to, and excusing his lack of knowledge of the world by saying he had lived a sheltered life as a servant in a big house until he'd been forced to go out and seek his own fortune.
'You should go to Makhaya,' Gallia suggested. 'They say there's always a need for scribes and suchlike there.'
'Perhaps I should,' Terrel said, half serious.
'Talk to Chenowith, then,' someone else advised. 'He's been there.'
'Much good it did him,' Efrin remarked sourly.
'I'd like to talk to him,' Terrel admitted. 'Will someone show me the way to the fields?'
'Rico will do it,' Efrin said, then turned away and yelled to his grandson.
'Are you sure, Father?' Gallia asked. Her disquiet was obvious.
'Just tell me where to go,' Terrel said quickly. 'I'll manage on my own.'
Gallia nodded, not bothering to hide her relief, then led Terrel to the edge of the village and gave him directions.
'Thank you, Gallia.'
She still would not look at him directly and he felt a pang of sadness, wanting to overcome her reluctance.
'I'm very grateful for your kindness to a stranger,' he said, 'especially one as unusual as me.' He wanted to ask her why she was so afraid of him, but lacked the courage.
Gallia merely nodded in response, her gaze fixed on the ground, then hurried back to her house. Terrel watched her go, then turned and went to look for the underseer.
The scene in the cornfield was like a moment frozen in time. Half the crop had already been harvested, with much of it gathered into sheaves and stacked in neat piles, but all work had stopped now. A dozen or so men plus a few young women were standing about, their scythes and sickles idle. They were all watching two men who faced each other in the centre of the cleared area of stubble. One of these was tall and well built, and his rugged face was red with anger and his muscles taut, as if he were only restraining himself with some difficulty. The other looked tiny by comparison, and had the smooth complexion of youth. They were arguing and, although the younger man was clearly afraid of his adversary, he too was standing his ground. Their voices, one deep and hoarse with rage, the other light but passionate, were loud enough to carry easily to where Terrel stood, unnoticed, at the edge of the field.
'First you tell me to start cutting even though it won't be ripe for several days yet - and now, halfway through, you tell me to stop?'
'If you don't, I'll have to condemn the entire crop and have it burnt,' the younger man - whom Terrel assumed to be Chenowith - replied, with equal fervour.
'But it's madness! How can you tell such things from a book? He gestured angrily at the ledger that Chenowith held open in his hands.
'I'm sorry, Leman,' the underseer replied. 'I wish it wasn't so, but the moons don't lie. You know the law.'
'But we planted at the correct dates. You know that. How can it suddenly all be out of kilter?'
'Things have changed,' Chenowith told him, less confident now. 'You've seen the proclamation. It just took me a little time to work out the implications.'
'So what you're saying is that the seers got it wrong in the first place? That the almanac is wrong?'
'There must have been some errors, yes.' The young man was obviously embarrassed.