"Jo Walton - The Rebirth of Pan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Walton Jo)

moment in the light of the burning tree, understanding each other well enough. Then I drop the curtain and
take a step away from him. This is all too strange. I need to think and talk with the indwellers, find some
balance. In the morning it will be easier.

"I think the storm is moving away," I say. He nods. "It'll be quiet enough to sleep soon, if you want
to stretch out on the sofa here, I'll bring some blankets down." He nods again, and sits down. I take the
candle and find blankets in the airing cupboard. Emrys wakes to hear me moving around, and I have to
go in and hug him, find his bear, settle him down again. When I come back, my arms piled high with
blankets and pillows, Colin is standing by the window again, gazing out at the burning tree.

"A hundred years to grow that tall," he says softly, without turning. "Struck down in an instant for
growing taller than it should, for something done without knowing, trying its best to be the best it could."

"That's the way the world turns," the old spirit says, using my voice. "But it's no excuse at all for
you, or anyone, not to try their best to strive to do their share."

He turns from the window, and I can see the tears plain on his cheeks. I feel an urge to put out a
hand to him in comfort, to embrace him, but my arms are piled full of blankets, and the moment passes.




6. LORD MAKER


By regulation of the heart and will
by discipline, obedience and dearth
a hard road lies to what the holy seek
but other paths lie open, straight and true.


"You said you were going to decide!"

"And I will decide. Dafni—"

"It is time now. Gone time. Pappa Andros, there is a great pile of children's shoes toppling over in
the back of Yanni's shop. It is the same with every shoemaker on the island. Eleni can hardly move in her
spare room for all the clothes piled up there. I said I would look after the food, and I will, but how can I
until there is somewhere to keep it?"

Pappa Andros sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. Dafni stood firm in front of him, her
feet firmly planted well apart and her hands on her hips. Every angle of her body spoke of her
determination. Behind her black clad form blocking the doorway he could just see the little pomegranate
tree that grew against the white wall that separated his garden from Yanni's.

"Come in and sit down, Dafni," he said, wearily. "This isn't an easy matter." Dafni took a step into
the room and pulled out a wooden chair from where it was tucked under the table. The heavy red cloth
fell down into the space where the chair had been. She sat, heavily, propping her elbows on the table.
Pappa Andros pushed a blue plate of fresh and sticky dates towards her, smiling. Dafni took just one, ate
it in three swift bites, and spat the stone through the doorway and into the garden. Then, having fulfilled