"Van Lustbader, Eric - Pearl 01 The Ring of Five Dragons(eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)

"A moment of weakness, of illness, of disorientation," Bartta said curtly. "I am surprised you even remember."
"Why wouldn't I remember, sister? I love you deeply."
Bartta, trembling a little, whispered. "If only it were so."
Giyan took her in her arms. "Have you any real doubts?"
Bartta allowed her head to briefly rest on her sister's shoulder. She sighed. "This is what I do not understand," she said. "Even the konara, our elders, have no answer for Mьna's strange silence."
Giyan took Bartta's head in her hands, looked her in the eye. "The answer is clear, sister. It lies in our recent history. The Goddess is silent because we ignored Her warnings and misused The Pearl."
"Then it's true. Mьna has abandoned us," Bartta whispered. There were sudden, stinging tears in her eyes.
"No, sister, She is merely waiting."
Bartta wiped her eyes, deeply ashamed that she had showed such weakness. "Waiting for what?"
"For the Dar Sala-at. The One who will find The Pearl and end our bondage to the V'ornn."
Bartta's expression changed, hardening slightly "Is this true faith, or is it your Gift talking?"
"I have been taught by Konara Mossa to turn away from the Gift, just as we have been taught to shun the Rappa because they were responsible for Mother's death the day The Pearl was lost, the day we were invaded by the V'ornn."
"The Rappa had the Gift, and it led to our downfall." Having spotted a chink in her sister's armor, Bartta's eyes were alight. Spite, the twin of her envy, overrode her inner terror. "And yet, you defy Konara Mossa, you use the Gift."
"Sometimes I cannot help it," Giyan said softly, sadly, "the Gift is too strong."
"Sometimes you deliberately use it," Bartta hissed. "You are being trained in secret, aren't you?"
"What if I am?" Giyan looked down at her feet. "Sometimes I ques­tion whether this thing inside me—this Gift—is evil." Her voice dropped to a whisper borne by the wind. "Sometimes, late at night, when I lie awake, I feel the breadth and scope of the Cosmos breathing all around me, and I know—I know, sister, in my heart, in my very soul—that what we see and hear and smell and taste—the world we touch is but a fraction of the Whole that exists elsewhere. A beauty beyond comprehension. And with every fiber of my being I long to reach out and know that vast place. And it is then that I think, How could such a feeling be evil?"
Bartta was looking at her sister with profound jealousy What you know, what you long for, she thought. As if I do not long for the same thing, and know it will never be mine. She was about to say something clever and cutting, but the sight of the tail stayed her tongue. The lorg's ing herbs and the next the world around her had disappeared. At first, she thought she had gone blind. She found herself enclosed in dark­ness—not the darkness of night or even a cave, but utter blackness-Voices rustled like the wings of birds, but she could not make out what they were saying. She was terrified; even more so as the vision took shape. With breathtaking clarity, she saw herself from above. She was dressed oddly, in the pure white of mourning. She was standing on the wishbone of a narbuck, the two prongs in front of her. At the end of the right prong stood a Ramahan in the persimmon-colored robes of a member of the Dea Cretan. At the end of the left prong was a fierce-looking V'ornn in battle armor. She saw herself walking to the base of the prongs, knew there was a dreadful choice to be made, a fork in the path of her life, The V'ornn raised his arms and in them she saw a shining star, which she knew was the Dar Sala-at, the prophesied savior of her people. In her vision, she watched herself walk to the left, toward the Dar Sala-at, toward the V'ornn… What did it mean? She could not know, and yet she could not forget the power, the sheer force of the vision. She had never dared share it with anyone, not even Bartta. But it had haunted her ever since, and was surely at the core of her unique, conflicted feelings about the aliens she knew she should loathe.
"The V'ornn have enslaved us, maimed us, tortured us," Bartta was saying now. "They kill us at their whim in games of sport. Though the resistance exists and continues to fight back, it is no match for the V'ornn. The aliens have driven us from our cities, forced us to find shelter in the hillsides and mountains until we have become strangers in our own land. They have slaughtered thousands of Ramahan. Our own abbey is the only one left intact. You know this as well as I do."
Giyan turned back from the peaks of the Djenn Marre, from the latent image of her vision. Her thick copper-colored hair flew in the wind. She put her hand tenderly on her sister's shoulder. "I hear the pain and fear in your voice. We have prayed to Mьna for eighty-five long, terrible years without hearing a response."
Bartta shook herself away. "I feel no pain or fear."
"But you do," Giyan said even more softly. "It is your deep and abid­ing fear that in Her wrath Mьna has left us in the hands of the V'ornn forever. You told me so yourself."
"A moment of weakness, of illness, of disorientation," Bartta said curtly. "I am surprised you even remember."
"Why wouldn't I remember, sister? I love you deeply."
Bartta, trembling a little, whispered. "If only it were so."
Giyan took her in her arms. "Have you any real doubts?"
Bartta allowed her head to briefly rest on her sister's shoulder. She sighed. "This is what I do not understand," she said. "Even the konara, our elders, have no answer for Mьna's strange silence."
Giyan took Bartta's head in her hands, looked her in the eye. "The answer is clear, sister. It lies in our recent history. The Goddess is silent because we ignored Her warnings and misused The Pearl."
"Then it's true. Mьna has abandoned us," Bartta whispered. There were sudden, stinging tears in her eyes.
"No, sister, She is merely waiting."
Bartta wiped her eyes, deeply ashamed that she had showed such weakness. "Waiting for what?"
"For the Dar Sala-at. The One who will find The Pearl and end our bondage to the V'ornn."
Bartta's expression changed, hardening slightly. "Is this true faith, or is it your Gift talking?"
"I have been taught by Konara Mossa to turn away from the Gift, just as we have been taught to shun the Rappa because they were responsible for Mother's death the day The Pearl was lost, the day we were invaded by the V'ornn."
"The Rappa had the Gift, and it led to our downfall." Having spotted a chink in her sister's armor, Bartta's eyes were alight. Spite, the twin of her envy, overrode her inner terror. "And yet, you defy Konara Mossa, you use the Gift."
"Sometimes I cannot help it," Giyan said softly, sadly, "the Gift is too strong."
"Sometimes you deliberately use it," Bartta hissed. "You are being trained in secret, aren't you?"
"What if I am?" Giyan looked down at her feet. "Sometimes I ques­tion whether this thing inside me—this Gift—is evil." Her voice dropped to a whisper borne by the wind. "Sometimes, late at night, when I lie awake, I feel the breadth and scope of the Cosmos breathing all around me, and I know—I know, sister, in my heart, in my very soul—that what we see and hear and smell and taste—the world we touch is but a fraction of the Whole that exists elsewhere. A beauty beyond comprehension. And with every fiber of my being I long to reach out and know that vast place. And it is then that I think, How could such a feeling be evil?"
Bartta was looking at her sister with profound jealousy. What you know, what you long for, she thought. As if I do not long for the same thing, and know it will never be mine. She was about to say something clever and cutting, but the sight of the tail stayed her tongue. The lorg's tail flicked once then, illusory as the whiff of water in the Great Voorg, disappeared beneath a long, flat rock of a golden hue.
"Look there!" she said as she clambered down into the shallow gully. Beyond, a steep and treacherous falloff mined with loose shale and broken twigs. "Oh, sister, look!" And planting her sturdy legs wide, she bent and flipped over the rock.
"A lorg!" Giyan cried.
"Yes. A lorg!" Bartta backed away, fascinated and appalled, as her twin clambered down to stand beside her. The lorg was indeed a hid­eous beast. Its hide was thick and warty, its watery grey eyes bulging, turning this way and that as if able to see in all directions at once. It appeared all belly; its head and legs were puny and insignificant. It seemed boneless, like the double stomach of a gutted lemur, and this somehow made it all the more hideous.
Bartta hefted a stone in her hand. "And now we must kill it."
"Kill it? But why?"
"You know why," Bartta said icily. "Lorgs are evil."
"Leave it. You do not need to take its life."
With an expert swing, Bartta skimmed the stone through the air. It made a peculiar humming sound, like an angry blackcrow. She had that, at least over her twin, her outsize physical strength. The stone, loosed from that powerful slingshot, struck the lorg with a sickening thunk!. The lorg's disgusting pop eyes swiveled in their direction, perhaps sadly, but it did not move. This seeming indifference enraged Bartta all the more. She grabbed another stone, a larger one this time, cocking her arm to throw it. But Giyan caught her upraised wrist in her hand.
"Why, Bartta? Why do you really want to kill it?"
The wind rattled the kuello-firs, whistled through devious clefts in the rocks. A hawk floated on the thermals high overhead, vivid with intent. Bartta's gaze did not stray from Giyan's face. The twin who was tall, beautiful, clever of tongue and hand. An inchoate rage curdled the contents of Bartta's stomach, gripped her throat like a giant's hand. With a violent twist, she jerked herself free, and before Giyan could utter another word, she hurled the stone with tremendous force. It struck the lorg's head, causing a gout of blood so pale and thin it might have been water. Grunting like an animal, Bartta gathered a handful of stones and, as she advanced upon the lorg, peppered it until it sank into the ground, split open like a side of meat.
“There. There." Bartta, standing over it, light-headed, trembled slightly.
Crouching beside the dead creature, Giyan passed a hand over it.