"David Zindell - Requiem of Homo Sapiens 01 - The Broken God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zindell David)

told himself, and he knew he wouldn't steal the dogs away from
life. He nodded his head
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decisively. He smiled and trudged up through the powdery snow
to set them free.
The last thing he did before leaving was to press his
forehead against the bare rocks near the mouth of the cave. He
did this because Manwe, on the twelfth morning of the world,
had performed just such a gesture before setting out on his
journey to visit all the islands of God's new creation.
'Kweitkel, narulanda,' he said, 'farewell.'
With a whistle to his sled dogs he began his journey as all
Alaloi men do: slowly, cautiously schussing through the forest
down to the frozen sea. There, beyond the beach of his blessed
island, the icefields began. The gleaming white ice spread out
in a great circle, and far off, at the horizon, touched the
sky. It was the oldest of teachings to live solely for the
journey, taking each moment of ice and wind as it came. But
because he was still a boy with wild dreams, he couldn't help
thinking of the journey's end, of the Unreal City. That he
would reach the City, he felt certain, although in truth, it
was a journey only a very strong man should contemplate making
alone. There was a zest and aliveness about him at odds with
all that had happened. He couldn't help smiling into the
sunrise, into the fusion fire glistering red above the world's
rim. Because he was hot with excitement, he had his snow
goggles off and his hood thrown back. The wind lashed his hair;
it almost tore away Ahira's shining white feather. His face was
brown against the white ruff of his hood. It was a young face,
beardless and full of warmth and hope, but for all that, a
strong, wild face cut with sun and wind and sorrow. With his
long nose puffing steam and his high cheekbones catching the
glint of the snowfields, there was a harshness there, softened
only by his eyes. He had unique eyes, large and blue-black like
the early evening sky. Yujena oyu, as the Alaloi say – eyes
that see too deeply and too much.
Danlo handled the sled and guided the dogs across the ragged
drift ice with skill and grace. Many times Haidar and he had
made such outings, though they had never
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travelled very far from land. Six hundred miles of frozen sea
lay before him, but he knew little of distances measured in
this manner. For him and his panting dogs, each segment of ice
crossed was a day, and each day rose and fell with the rhythm
of eating, sledding, and sawing the blocks of snow that he
shaped into a hut every night. And finally, after he had fed
the dogs and eaten again himself, after he had slipped down
into the silky warmth of his furs, sleep. He loved to sleep,
even though it was hard to sleep alone. Often he would have bad
dreams and cry out in his sleep; often he would awake sweating