"Walter M. Miller - The Soul Empty Ones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Walter M)

woman said one word:
"Daher!"
The man mopped his forehead and staggered a step forward. He kicked the door closed with his heel. His skin had gone
bloodless gray, and his eyes wandered wildly about the room for a moment. Then he sagged to his knees. Falon came to his aid, but
Daner shook him off.
"They're really the sons of men," he gasped.
"Did you doubt it?" asked the old valley man.
Daner nodded. His mouth leaked a trickle of red, and he spat ir-ritably. "I saw their skyboats. I fought with a guard. They are
the sons of men . . . but they . . . are no longer men." He sank to a sitting position and leaned back against the door, staring at the
woman. "Ea-Daner," he breathed softly.
 "Come care for your man, you wench!" growled the old one. "Can't you see he's dying?"
The girl stood back a few feet, watching her husband with sad-ness and longing, but not with pity. He was staring at her with
deep black eyes, abnormally brightened by pain. His breath was a wet hiss. Both of them ignored their valley guests.
"Sing me `The Song of the Empty of Soul,' Ea, my wife, " he choked, then began struggling to his feet. Falon, who knew a little
of the Natani ways, helped him pull erect.
Daner pawed at the door, opened it, and stood looking out into the night for a moment. A dark line of trees hovered to the west.
Daner drew his war knife and stood listening to the yapping of the wild dogs in the forest. "Sing, woman."
She sang. In a low, rich voice, she began the chant of the Soul-Empty Ones. The chant was weary, slowly repeating its five
mo-notonous notes, speaking of men who had gone away, and of their Soul-Empty servants they had left behind.
Dauer stepped from the doorsill, and became a wavering shadow, receding slowly toward the trees.
The song said that if a man be truly the son of men, the wild dogs would not devour him in the time of death. But if he be
Empty of Soul, if he be only the mocking image of Man, then the wild dogs would feed—for his flesh was of the beast, and his
an-cestor's seed had been warped by Man to grow in human shape.

The two valley warriors stood clumsily; their ways were not of the Natani mountain folk. Their'etiquette forbade them interfere
in their host's action. Dauer had disappeared into the shadows. Ea-Daner, his wife, sang softly into the night, but her face was
rivered with moisture from her eyes, large dark eyes, full of anger and sad-ness.
The song choked off. From the distance came a savage man-snarl. It was answered by a yelp; then a chorus of wild-dog barks
and growls raged in the forest, drowning the cries of the man. The girl stopped singing and closed the door. She returned to her
stool and gazed out toward the bonfires._ Her face was empty, and she was no longer crying.
Father and son exchanged glances. Nothing could be done. They sat together, across the room from the girl.
After a long time, the elder spoke. "Among our people, it is customary for a widow to return to her father's house. You have no
father. Will you join my house as a daughter?"
She shook her head. "My people would call me an outcast. And your people would remember that I am a Natani."
"What will you do?" asked Falon.
"We have a custom," she replied vaguely.
Falon growled disgustedly. "I have fought your tribe. I have fought many tribes. They all have different ways, but are of the
same flesh. Custom! Bah! One way is as good as another, and no-way-at-all is the best. I have given myself to the devil, because
the devil is the only god in whom all the tribes believe. But he never answers my prayers, and I think I'll spit on his name."
He was rewarded by another slap from his father. "You are the devil's indeed!" raged the old man.
Falon accepted it calmly, and shrugged toward the girl. "What will you do, Ea-Daner?"
She gazed at him through dull grief. "I will follow the way. I will mourn for seven days. Then I will take a war knife and go to
kill one of my husband's enemies. When it is done, I will follow his path to the forest. It is the way of the Natani widow."
Falon stared at her in unbelief. His shaggy blond eyebrows gloomed into a frown. "No!" he growled. "I am ashamed that the
ways of my father's house have made me sit here like a woman while Daner went to fight against the sons of men! Daner said
nothing. He respected our ways. He has opened his home to us. I shan't let his woman be ripped apart by the wild dogs!"
"Quiet!" shouted his father. "You are a guest! If our hosts are barbarians, then you must tolerate them!"
The girl caught her breath angrily, then subsided. "Your father is right, Falon," she said coldly. "I don't admire the way you
grovel before him, but he is right."
Falon squirmed and worked his jaw in anger. He was angry with both of them. His father had been a good man and a strong