"Jennifer Roberson - Karavans 01 - Karavans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

First Hardcover Printing, April 2006 123456789
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
— MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
I dedicate this to my uncle and to my aunts, with love,
Sam Hardy
Molly Hardy
Clare Witcomb
and to the memory of my mother
Shera Roberson


Prologue
^»
AFTER SO MUCH TIME, his voice, the words, came hard. He had been— other— for time out of mind.
“ I,” he said. And, in shock, repeated it: “ I.”
Other words, more words, came back to him. Words that, strung together, shaped identity. He knew those
words. And knew himself, when he had not for an endless time, immured in darkness.
“ I… am… man.”
A man. He was.
Human.
“ I am man. I am a man.”
The emphasis was important.
“ I am a man.”
He crowed victory, no longer mute.
He was a man.
Was he not?
Around him the world shuddered. Darkness bled into light. Nausea took him. Bile burned the back of his
throat, occluding a sob.
So close.
So close to… elsewhere.
So close to home.
“ I am a man.”
He was. Had been. Was born so.
Man. Male. Mortal.
He remembered, remembered, after a space— for time out of mind— when he could not.
“ I am,” he said aloud, seeking solace, seeking strength.
But darkness wrapped its fingers around him. Darkness took him up, as if to inspect him more closely. His
head filled, and his eyes. His ears. His mouth and his nose. He choked on it.
Darkness.
Darkness dangled him by the scruff of his neck, as if he were vermin caught by a dog. Darkness smelled of
him. Shook him. And then, with a twitch of negligent hand, darkness discarded him.
He fell. And fell.
When he landed, when he had recovered breath enough to speak, strength enough to move, he sat up. Light.
In place of darkness, light. He saw. He smelled. He heard. He felt. He tasted.
“ I am a man,” he said. And, “ Home.”
He stood. Balanced. Began to walk.
To humankind. To home.