"Voices in the Wind by Mary Soon Lee" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lee Mary Soon)

Voices in the Wind
by Mary Soon Lee

_First published in November 1994 in _Star Tiger 9.

On a gray day in a gray season, Gerod, least favored of Lady Tiron's husbands, was buried with a minimum of ceremony. The funeral party hurried up the long slope to the tomb, straining to match both the lady's pace and her mood. With growing confidence, they exchanged ribald jokes about Gerod's physical prowess, his inability to father more than the one child, and his ludicrous attachment to the Dims.

"Given the opportunity," said the blacksmith, slapping the boy beside him in his enthusiasm, "Gerod would have slept with the creatures. Your father," he gripped the boy's shoulder, but was too amused by his own wit to continue.

Held in place by the man's sweaty hand, Cern clenched his fists into tight knots and forced himself to smile. "My father was a fool."

"And he did sleep with them, in a manner of speaking," offered Darok, the youngest and slyest of Lady Tiron's husbands. "When Gerod didn't appear this morning, I took the hounds to find him. He was lying in a clearing in the old forest, surrounded by Dims, but he was cold as ice and well past waking. A pity," he added, glancing up at Tiron, "that he escaped punishment."

"Perhaps he should have been killed when he first started sympathizing with them," said a sharp-faced woman.

"Perhaps, but he had his advantages like any husband." Tiron bent down to kiss Darok, her leather tunic hugging her body as she leaned forward. "If I'd known he was associating with the Dims, naturally I would have dealt with him."

Cern stared fixedly at Tiron's back, wanting her to beckon him over, to smooth down his hair, dark as her own. Instead she twisted free of Darok, and strode straight up the hill. Cern swallowed. He would make her proud of him. At twelve years old, he did not appreciate her curving figure, but he knew she was magnificent. He could see the others constantly maneuvering to gain her attention, the way the group molded itself around her.

The pair of Dims had reached the stone archway leading into the tomb. They stopped awkwardly, thick smoke-colored fingers clutching onto the edge of the dead man's litter. In the shadow of the entrance, they looked like stones themselves, their thick-set limbs ugly and inhuman.

"Let's get this finished," Tiron pointed a finger at Darok and the blacksmith. Quickly, they took the litter from the Dims, and carried it inside.

Cern saw the adults disappearing into the tomb, and the other children hurrying after them. He delayed for a minute, glaring up at the stolid bulk of the two Dims. If it hadn't been for them, his father might never have become an embarrassment. Angrily, he kicked the shin of the nearest one. It flinched, dropping something onto the ground. It bent to pick it up, but Cern was much faster than the lumbering old Dim. He examined the tiny brown bundle: a lock of hair. His father's hair.

"Lady mother! I've caught a thieving Dim." Cern kicked the creature again. A trick of the light caught the thing's face and made it look almost sad. For a moment, Cern remembered the same sad expression in his father's eyes, the deep quietness of his smile. But then Lady Tiron walked out of the tomb and laid her hand on Cern's head, and he forgot all about his father.





That night, the great hall of Lady Tiron's manor was a blaze of color and warmth. Folk from twenty households crowded the tables, helping themselves to roast meats, fruits and a seemingly endless supply of ale. Perfumed candles burned brightly, reflecting from silverware and the lady's finest crystal. Tiron had wasted neither grace nor expense on Gerod's burial, but she had turned his funeral feast into a banquet fit for a prince.

Cern sat by his mother's side, an inexplicable hollowness aching inside him. His brothers were enviously watching his exalted position from two tables away, but he wished he could join them. On the other side of his mother, Darok's mouth flashed into a white-toothed smile as the man edged his hand up Tiron's arm. Immediately, she turned round to Cern, dislodging Darok's hand and startling the man into a sour expression.

"You did well today," Tiron stroked her son's hair. "Are you satisfied with the Dim's punishment?"

"Yes, Lady mother," Cern dutifully smiled. He glanced at the corner where the old Dim stood, its eyes tight shut. A metal bar forced its jaws apart, exposing the raw stump of its tongue. The creature was paler than ever, almost white but for the dark gray fluid dripping from its mouth. Cern had tormented the Dims like any other child, but tonight the stillness of the creature disturbed him, reminding him of the wistfulness in its milky eyes after he'd kicked it. Cern kept his smile in place as he looked back at his mother.

Tiron patted his shoulder, "If you continue to please me, I may make you my heir."

Cern's spoon clattered onto his plate. Numbly, he sat there like an idiot while his mother and her six husbands all scrutinized him.

"Have you gone mad?" Darok seized Tiron's wrist, his face flushed a darker brown than Cern had ever seen.

"What did you think I would do? Leave it all to you? Cern is my eldest son, and so far I've had no daughters."

No one within earshot was even pretending to eat. Cern stared from one adult to another, frantically searching for something to say, but his mind had frozen.

Darok's face smoothed into an urbane smile. "Lady, you never hinted at this, you never trained the boy, and his father was --"