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

patterns in the rock on the exposed wall. The discoloration reminded him
of the waste formed on the smaller of his hard-material nuggets. He had
seen such markings before in his travels and had once asked his teachers
an oblique question regarding them. He could not keep his mind from
speculating. Could the hard materials have been natural deposits within
the forbidden depths of the earth? In places like this where the forces of
nature had bared the subsurface rock the ground took on a new look.

He spent much of the remaining light climbing the escarpment,
searching in vain. Arriving at last at the top, he felt the effects of the
strenuous climb, and, picking his way through boulders that dwarfed him,
he quickly found a sheltered place. He cocooned himself within his
protective sheet of the Material, fed, and was sleeping before the darkness
of the night closed down over him.

He awoke to a feeling of delicious aloneness. A storm was raging. Wet
rocks poured moisture as the yellowish rain fell, formed rivulets, dripped,
ran, and splashed down the near wall of the escarpment. He lay inside his
shelter, hearing the hiss of the acid rain on the impregnable Material. The
storm, he knew, would wash the air, leaving behind, hopefully, more
amenable conditions. And he had also noted, at other places and at other
times, that a heavy rain often washed away pockets of loose material atop
the hard rocks, leaving behind newly exposed areas. He had hoped for just
such a storm, and it was fortunate that it had occurred on his first night
on the plateau. The hunting would be interesting.

When the storm let up, he walked the steaming rocks, his pack in place,
for he would not return the same way. The high plateau extended to the
north and south all along the western bank of the river. In spots irregular
rock formations dammed up lakes of dull water. However, it was not the
river's edge that interested him, but the central portions of the plateau
where for endless sun circles of time the rain had washed the rocks,
leaving behind an accumulation of stones of various sizes. With his eyes on
the ground he picked his way carefully through the stones. Now and then a
loose stone rolled under his foot, causing him to struggle for balance.

To add to his splendid isolation, he had closed off his mind. He asked
for no contact. In the event of dire emergency, he could summon help, for
Red Earth's mind was far reaching and a Power Giver was in the western
area. But he was calmly confident in his ability and envisioned no such
emergency.

For the first two days, he covered ground that was partly familiar. Then
he moved southward. The bleak landscape was unchanged. It was a world
of exposed rocks, long since eroded clean by the storms. He was the only
life, save for a few thin air-feeders growing on the protected side of the
largest boulders. Nothing moved but poison-laden air, which rose from
the rank low areas, and was shifted by the vast movements of the
atmosphere.