"Janet Morris - Silistra 1 - High Couch of Silistra" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

significant weight. If she had been be-neath him, the violence of that final coupling surely would have crushed the life
from her there and then.
The last thing I saw was my mother nestled in the crook of his arm, her tears rolling down his shoulder, to settle in the
hollow in his throat.
The screen went blank. I started to lift the cube from my face, only at the last moment remembering my mother's
instructions. My hand shot out to catch the ring as it fell from the opening bottom of the cube.
I did not look at it, but pushed the cube across the table to Rathad, this long while waiting.
He looked at me, for my permission to view it. I could not speak. The room swam before my eyes. I nodded my assent
and leaned back in the carven thala chair, the ring clutched unexamined in my fist, to let my tears flow while my
mother's brother viewed the cube.
I had not cried for some years, and as the moisture of my grief and joy poured out of me and filled my lap, my
confusion went with them. I knew what I must do. I raised my head to tell Rathad, but he was still sunk deep within
Hadrath's record.
Dispassionately I deep-read him, knowing that he could not feel the touch of my mind while so en-grossed in my
mother's story. If foreseeing is my weakest skill, deep-reading is my strongest. I can, in moments, and without trancing,
acquire from any sentient being an accurate estimate of his basic na-ture, motivation, and any deep-seated emotion he
is feeling. I did so. I was pleased with what I saw. Rathad would be less troublesome to me in the near future. He was
deeply moved and full of remorse. Whether or not he had treated me fairly, he now felt that he had not, and that was
sufficient. If he had caught me at it, however, I would have lost that which through my mother I had gained. I withdrew
al-most immediately.
My father's ring was still clenched in my right fist. So much was happening, my head was so full of plans, I had not
even looked upon it.
I brought my fist to eye level and slowly opened my stiff fingers. I had clutched it so hard that the blood had been
forced from my hand. It lay facing me, on my wet palm. The metal was a pale yellow in color, perhaps gold. It was very
large and heavy. I could have fit two fingers within its circle. I remem-bered the hand that had worn the ring, and I
shiv-ered. Within the bezel was set a glowing black stone, as large as titrium half-well coin, and in the black stone itself
were a thousand white points of light, scattered in a seemingly random pattern. As I looked closer, I determined that
these were not characteristic markings of the black stone, but tiny inset gems, some as small as a pore on the skin,
some slightly larger. One of the bigger stones was not white, but a brood-ing blood color. This was set in the
upper-right corner. If this random patterning could be said to resemble a spiral, then the red stone was far out on the
north-eastmost arm. I had never seen such a ring. The craftsmanship was exquisite. I turned it. The sides were covered
with raised script, but it was no lan-guage with which I was familiar.
I slipped my first and middle fingers within the
band and closed my hand into a fist once more. I wished there was a way to make it smaller, but I knew I would not so
deface it. I put my right hand within my left, and both in my lap. I would have to find another way to wear my father's
ring. I con-sidered the possibilities until I heard Rathad place the cube back upon the table.
His face was ashen white and his eyes bleary. He leaned his elbows upon the table and supported his chin with one
hand. In the other he held the letter. He extended it to me. I shook my head and made no move to take it.
"Not yet," I said. "That which has waited so long can wait a while longer. Summon a runner. I will leave with Santh
tomorrow morning. There is much to do before the next sun's rise. If Ristran is still here, I will meet with him in my keep,
and we will take our mid-meal there together. If not, then I will do the same with the highest-ranking Day-Keeper you
can produce by that time. I will also need the toilet wom-en to help me prepare. Send a chalder also to Jana's room, for
she will be high-couch while I am gone." Jana and I thought alike on most social and political issues; she had met her
chaldra of reproduction, and I liked and respected her. She would enjoy being high-couch, but not so much that she
would be un-willing to relinquish the position when the time came.
"Impossible," Rathad snapped. His face had re-gained its normal color.
"Which?" I asked.
"All of it. You cannot leave the Well until the chaldric priorities have been determined, if at all. How many chains do
you wear? Are all of them meaningless when compared to this adventure? Such tasks are usually carried out before
major responsi-bilities are assumed. The Day-Keepers must decide. I have never heard of a three-hundred-year-old