"Resnick, Mike - Kirinyaga 5 - The Manamouki" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"'But she only warned you when it was too late,' said the king. 'Had she warned you when she first saw the hyenas, her mother would still be among us. But she forgot that we cannot run as fast as she can, and so her mother is dead.'
"And the new king, though his heart was sad, decreed that the ugly buffalo must leave the herd, for there is a great difference between being a buffalo and wanting to be a buffalo."
I leaned back against the tree, my story completed.
"Did the ugly buffalo survive?" asked Ndemi.
I shrugged and brushed a crawling insect from my forearm. "That is another story."
"She meant no harm."
"But she caused harm nonetheless."
Ndemi traced patterns in the dirt with his finger as he considered my answer, then looked up at me. "But if she had not been with the herd, the hyenas would have killed her mother anyway."
"Perhaps."
"Then it was not her fault."
"If I fall asleep against this tree, and you see a black mamba slithering through the grass toward me, and you make no attempt to wake me, and the mamba kills me, would you be to blame for my death?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Even though it would certainly have killed me had you not been here?"
Ndemi frowned. "It is a difficult problem."
"Yes, it is."
"The mud wallow was much easier," he said. "That was surely the ugly buffalo's fault, for without her urging, the other buffalo would never have entered it."
"That is true," I said.
Ndemi remained motionless for a few moments, still wrestling with the nuances of the story.
"You are saying that there are many different ways to cause harm," he announced.
"Yes."
"And that it takes wisdom to understand who is to blame, for the foolish king did not recognize harm of the ugly buffalo's action, while the wise king knew that she was to blame for her inaction."
I nodded my head.
"I see," said Ndemi.
"And what has this to do with the manamouki?" I asked.
He paused again. "If harm comes to the village, you must use your wisdom to decide whether Mwange, who wants nothing more than to be a Kikuyu, is responsible for it."
"That is correct," I said, getting to my feet.
"But I still do not know what harm she can do."
"Neither do I," I answered.
"Will you know it when you see it?" he asked. "Or will it seem like a good deed, such as warning the herd that hyenas are near?"
I made no reply.
"Why are you silent, Koriba?" asked Ndemi at last.
I sighed heavily. "Because there are some questions that even a mundumugu cannot answer."
* * * *
Ndemi was waiting for me, as usual, when I emerged from my hut five mornings later.
"Jambo, Koriba," he said.
I grunted a greeting and walked over to the fire that he had built, sitting cross-legged next to it until it removed the chill from my aging bones.
"What is today's lesson?" he asked at last.
"Today I will teach you how to ask Ngai for a fruitful harvest," I answered.
"But we did that last week."
"And we will do it next week, and many more weeks as well," I answered.
"When will I learn how to make ointments to cure the sick, or how to turn an enemy into an insect so that I may step on him?"
"When you are older," I said.
"I am already old."
"And more mature."
"How will you know when I am more mature?" he persisted.
"I will know because you will have gone an entire month without asking about ointments or magic, for patience is one of the most important virtues a mundumugu can possess." I got to my feet. "Now take my gourds to the river and fill them with water," I said, indicating two empty water gourds.
"Yes, Koriba," he said dejectedly.
While I was waiting for him, I went into my hut, activated my computer, and instructed Maintenance to make a minor orbital adjustment that would bring rain and cooler air to the western plains.
This done, I slung my pouch around my neck and went back out into my boma to see if Ndemi had returned, but instead of my youthful apprentice, I found Wambu, Koinnage's senior wife, waiting for me, bristling with barely-controlled fury.
"Jambo, Wambu," I said.