"Zach Hughes - The Book of Rack the Healer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Zach)

had spent some time storing life. His body weight was up. His chest was
expanded to bursting. All his cells were alive, fattened with precious air.
"They will have ample time to recover in my absence."

"Is it polite to inquire?"

"When were you concerned about being polite?" Rack queried
laughingly. Red Earth was an old friend and teacher. "West," he sent. "To
the river and the rift."

"In search of hard-material nuggets?"

Rack gave a mental shrug. "In search." He sensed a regret on Red
Earth's part and knew that the Far Seer begrudged him the waste of his
energies in his own pursuits. He sent a hint of reproach, accompanied by a
vivid picture of Red Earth with his Keeper, and got a chuckle in return.
 "Beautiful Wings the Power Giver will be alert to your needs."

"I thank you." He liked the picture Red Earth sent, but was not familiar
with the individual.

"She is newly mature, assigned to the west of the area."

"Daughter of old Northern Ice the Healer? I knew her when she was a
child."

"The same. She is no longer a child." Red Earth paused. "And speaking
of maturity, I note that your tint will soon be the same." Rack did not like
speaking of such matters. He closed his mind. "Could a joining be
arranged it would be a propitious event," Red Earth added.

Joining was a matter of nature's design and of personal choice. Rack
told Red Earth so and was acknowledged, but the hurt in the Far Seer's
mind softened Rack and he sent soothing pictures, along with the rational
conclusion that if Beautiful Wings were indeed newly mature his readiness
would not match hers. Red Earth agreed with a sigh and ended the
contact.

Rack entered into the end-of-circle storms, freshly charged, walking
with a distance-eating gait over the bare bones of the planet. His horny
feet were impervious to the hard rock underfoot. His scales tingled as
projectiles from the low spots bounced off them. Heavy clouds passed, and
his gills vented poison, lungs taking only the scattered particles of life from
the noxious mixture. For long periods he went without breathing until, on
high spots, there was a hint of life in the air and he inhaled to help save
his vital store in the cells of his body.

There was a wild beauty in the outside—the constant swirl of heavy
gases, the changes of light. And there was the feeling of being alone. Far
off Rack could sense an establishment, closed tightly, inhabited by an old