"Ursula K. LeGuin - Earthsea 5 - The Other Wind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Le Guin Ursula K)

"Ah." A keen glance from the dark eyes under eyebrows grown tangled and half grey.
"You had a good nap there in the grass, I think."
"The sweetest sleep I've had since I left Roke Island. I'm grateful to you for that boon,
lord. Maybe it will return tonight. But if not, I struggle with my dream, and cry out,
and wake, and am a burden to anyone near me. I'll sleep outside, if you permit."
Sparrowhawk nodded. "It'll be a pleasant night," he said.
It was a pleasant night, cool, the sea wind mild from the south, the stars of summer
whitening all the sky except where the broad, dark summit of the mountain loomed.
Alder put down the pallet and sheepskin his host gave him, in the grass where he had
slept before.
Sparrowhawk lay in the little western alcove of the house. He had slept there as a boy,
when it was Ogion's house and he was Ogion's prentice in wizardry. Tehanu had slept
there these last fifteen years, since she had been his daughter. With her and Tenar
gone, when he lay in his and Tenar's bed in the dark back corner of the single room he
felt his solitude, so he had taken to sleeping in the alcove. He liked the narrow cot built
out from the thick house wall of timbers, right under the window. He slept well there.
But this night he did not.


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Le Guin, Ursula - [Earthsea 05] The Other Wind

Before midnight, wakened by a cry, voices outside, he leapt up and went to the door. It
was only Alder struggling with nightmare, amid sleepy protests from the henhouse.
Alder shouted in the thick voice of dream and then woke, starting up in panic and
distress. He begged his host's pardon and said he would sit up a while under the stars.
Sparrowhawk went back to bed. He was not wakened again by Alder, but he had a bad
dream of his own.
He was standing by a wall of stone near the top of a long hillside of dry grey grass that
ran down from dimness into the dark. He knew he had been there before, had stood
there before, but he did not know when, or what place it was. Someone was standing
on the other side of the wall, the downhill side, not far away. He could not see the face,
only that it was a tall man, cloaked. He knew that he knew him. The man spoke to him,
using his true name. He said, "You will soon be here, Ged."
Cold to the bone, he sat up, staring to see the space of the house about him, to draw its
reality around him like a blanket. He looked out the window at the stars. The cold
came into his heart then. They were not the stars of summer, beloved, familiar, the
Cart, the Falcon, the Dancers, the Heart of the Swan. They were other stars, the small,
still stars of the dry land, that never rise or set. He had known their names, once, when
he knew the names of things.
"Avert!" he said aloud and made the gesture to turn away misfortune that he had
learned when he was ten years old. His gaze went to the open doorway of the house,
the corner behind the door, where he thought to see darkness taking shape, clotting
together and rising up.
But his gesture, though it had no power, woke him. The shadows behind the door were
only shadows. The stars out the window were the stars of Earthsea, paling in the first
reflection of the dawn.
He sat holding his sheepskin up round his shoulders, watching those stars fade as they
dropped west, watching the growing brightness, the colors of light, the play and
change of coming day. There was a grief in him, he did not know why, a pain and