"Ann Maxwell - Concord 1 - The Singer Enigma" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

said, stopping and facing her,
“Yes.”
Tarhn smiled and allowed his fingers to touch her . shining hair. She tilted her head slightly toward
him, inviting further touch.
“I assume that touch between strangers isn’t tabu in your culture,” he said, enjoying the cool, sliding
pressure of her hair between his fingers.
“Tabu?”
“Forbidden. Or at least discouraged, hedged with rituals and social distance.”
“Oh, no. We have no tabus on—”
But instead of naming her planet, Lyra simply repeated that there were no tabus.
“We also have no word for strangers,” she added thoughtfully. “At least, not stranger in the sense
carried by the Galactic word.”
Tarhn’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Semantics. The curse of man. What would the word stranger
mean in your language?”
“Nothing, for we have no strangers. Your fingers tensed, Tarhn. What’s wrong?”
Tarhn was amazed by her acute perceptions; his fingers hadn’t tightened enough to register on a
Carifil bio-monitor, yet she had known immediately.
“Just surprise,” said Tarhn lightly. “It’s hard to understand how, on a planet with a population large
and advanced enough to join the Concord, there would be no strangers.”
“Then imagine what a surprise the galaxy has. been, and still is, for me. Since leaving home, you’re
the first person I’m glad to be close to, even with your baffling sharp edges. No, that’s not fair. I must be
as unexpected and jagged to you as you are to me. Yet in so many ways you feel like a—like one of my
people. I keep forgetting you aren’t.”
Tarhn looked into her intent amber eyes, gold-centered, serious and inviting, and wise and confused,
and wished for an instant that he had no reason to know Lyra other than the sweet reason that he wanted
to.
But he was Carifil, and he had many reasons, some of them unclear even to himself. He took Lyra’s
hand and resumed walking, slowly.
“I’m surprised you left your planet,” he said.
“It was necessary.”
When Lyra didn’t elaborate, Tarhn went back to the subject of strangers.
“Even though your people aren’t strangers among themselves, didn’t they consider the Galactics to
be strangers?”
“Not in the sense of alien. We called them otherwise. Our word has no exact analogue ...” She
frowned in concentration. “Is there a word in Galactic for children who have strayed, but still retain the
potential to return and be unity again?”
“Lost?”
“No, that’s too accidental and too final. The straying has an element of choice, more mental than
physical. Although, of course, physical distance often follows mental distance.”
Tarhn laughed suddenly. “Prodigal children. Nearly every culture has its own version of the child who
grows and/or goes away from its cultural values. After various experiences, the child comes to accept the
values it was born with.”
“That’s it,” said Lyra. “We call the Galactics prodigal children.”
“Then you believe that Galactics should embrace your cultural values rather than their own?”
Lyra hesitated, then gestured agreement. “In some senses, yes, but ...”
Tarhn waited.
“Do stars embrace the way of light rather than darkness?” she asked finally.
“Hardly. By definition, a star is matter which radiates energy within certain wavelengths.”
 “Exactly. Galactics will realize, as you do, that intentional cruelty is as ... as ... oh, you’re right,
semantics can be a. curse!” she said, smiling yet serious. “Intentional cruelty is like a star choosing