"James Patrick Kelly - Fruitcake Theory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

Kasaan’s nubbly pink tongue licks between bared teeth at
the rooster’s shoulder. It makes a sound like someone
washing hands.
"Observe," I say. "But don’t protect. Not this time."
The licking goes on for several moments. Suddenly the
teeth pierce the skin and sink deep. The rooster
stiffens, but makes no sound. With a quick jerk to one
side, Kasaan tears an apple-sized chunk of the rooster’s
flesh away. Her jaws close on the meat -- once, twice,
three times -- and then she tilts her head back and
swallows. The wound brims with purple blood; Kasaan
licks it clean. When the bleeding stops, the scarecrow
steps away and stretches luxuriantly.
"What tasty information!" She offers a hand to the
rooster, who struggles to his feet. "You have seen most
deliciously."
"I have a theory," whispers Bjorn, "about how these
reports are made..." But he doesn’t get to elaborate
because Kasaan comes up to him.
"What that one gave you," the scarecrow says, "is the
egg of a vuot, a worm that will grow over the years in
your intestines."
Bjorn turns the color of eggnog.
"How do you know about that?" I say.
"I ate those memories," says Kasaan. "Now the vuot is a
beneficial parasite that all Kuvat share. It will filter
toxins and regulate your metabolism and prolong your
life. You need not worry about side effects. Indeed, I
believe you will be most happy with your relationship
with the vuot over the coming centuries."
I pat my pocket to make sure the pearls -- vuot eggs --
are still there. Kasaan notices this and bows
apologetically. "What has happened, is and is for the
good. But there is something that has not yet happened,
which I must unfortunately prevent from happening."
I can guess what’s coming. "We bought them from him," I
say. "We paid."
"Maggie, a fruitcake is not the price of immortality,"
says Kasaan gently.
=Fruitcake stinks.= says the rooster. =Person lies.= His
wound has already healed.
"I’m afraid I must insist." The scarecrow lays a hand on
my shoulder.
=Better not cry. Tell me why.=
I know she means me no harm. So does the rooster, Bjorn,
Balfour, and all the followers. I’m going to give her
the eggs. Maybe later we’ll find out what the right
price for them is. As far as I’m concerned, the
situation is under control. But it’s not my mall.
"Get your hands off her!"