The Windsingers Series: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Megan Lindholm

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      ‘Here’s a tree,’ Vandien said, and with a flick of his fingers he held before her a tall triangle of string stretched on the fingers of both hands while four fingers of one hand held the rectangle that was its trunk. Another flash of his fingers, and the tree disappeared. ‘A star!’ This took a moment of loopings before he held up a five-pointed star on the fingers of one hand. ‘The Hawk!’ An abstract, graceful figure that suggested open wings. ‘My name!’ This seemed to be two separate abstract figures, one on each hand, held up side by side for Ki’s inspection.

      ‘Do the shapes form a sound, like the characters linked on paper?’

      Vandien shook his head. ‘We have that type of writing also for things that must be recorded, sales of land, the pedigree of a bull, public announcements – but these are older by far than those symbols. No, this is Van,’ he nodded to his left hand, ‘and this is Dien,’ with a nod to his right. ‘Vandien. Myself.’

      ‘What does your name mean?’ she asked him.

      He shrugged at her question, his dark brows drawing a little closer together in puzzlement. ‘It’s a name, like any other, given by my parents. No meaning.’

      ‘My father named me as the Romni do, making the name a reason to remember the time of birth. “Ki, Ki,” a bird called to him on the morning I was born. And so I was Ki.’

      Vandien looked scandalized. ‘Among my people, that is how we might name a horse or a dog. Not a Human. Your name should bespeak who your parents were and the order of your birth. I sang – croaked might be a better word – to you of Sidris today. Her father was Risri, her mother Sidlin. She was their first-born daughter, hence she was Sidris. You see?’

      Ki shook her head. ‘I do not follow it.’

      ‘It is simple. If she had been the first-born son, she, uh, he would have been Riscid. Their secondborn daughter was Linri, their second son is Rilin, and so on.’

      ‘And if they have more than two daughters?’ Ki asked. ‘What do they do when they’ve run out of names to share?’

      ‘A Human’s name does not run out, unless there is a time when he had no forebears. For convenience, we use but the first two parts of our names. I know my own to thirty-six forebears. There is more to it than that, of course, but the rest is for the keepers of the genealogies. A girl adds to her own name the entire name of her mother. A boy takes his father’s.’

      ‘Who could ever keep it all straight? And, more to the point, who would want to?’ Ki’s tone was lightly mocking, but Vandien’s face went dark at her words.

      ‘There are some to whom such things matter. They used to matter to me, once, but no more. It is, as you say, a silliness.’ He snapped the string free of his fingers and pocketed it. He rose to take the stacked dishes and clamber out of the cuddy with them. Ki wondered what had offended him. Her pleasant mood evaporated, leaving darkness inside her heart. She wondered at her own foolishness, to sit and talk on trivialities while death stalked her from the skies. She sat still, harking to the wind. Blow long and hard, she urged it.

      Through the wind she could hear Vandien outside the cuddy, heard him speak to the team, felt the slight movement of the wagon as he put the dishes into their chest. Idly she wished she were alone tonight, to sort out her memories, to handle the good ones and set aside the bad ones. To look back on her days. Instead, she must deal with this peculiar dark-haired man, so foreign to her experience. He made Ki aware of him and drove Sven back into the shadows. She did not like the way he stung her out of her solitude, didn’t like the way he made her ask questions and wonder. She didn’t want to consider the way his body moved or guess the lively thoughts behind the movements of his features. She liked her silences. She missed her solitary routines.

      Her fingers moved idly to her hair. Out of long habit, she let it down and combed her fingers through the brown strands until they lay flat and smooth down her back. Then, with the swiftness born of habit, she put it up again into her knots and weavings. She removed her outer cloak and spread it over the bedding. She was kicking off her boots when Vandien returned. She slammed the sliding door shut against the rising wind that tried to follow him. Without a word, he shook out his cloak and spread it over the bed. He began to remove his boots.

      Ki sat staring. Cloakless and bent over, the arch of Vandien’s neck was curved. A marking was on it, small, almost hidden under the hair that straggled there: Outstretched blue wings.

      Ki’s heart went cold. She met his gaze with stony eyes as he straightened. He looked at her, perplexed. Then his dark eyes fell, and he shifted his feet in embarrassment.

      ‘When I am weary,’ he said softly, ‘there are subjects that come to my mind. Things that pain me. And when those subjects are touched upon, I become abrupt and rude, taking offense where none is meant and forgetting where courtesy is owed for hospitality shown.’

      He stood before her, seeming to wait. Words struggled in Ki. Should she demand to know the meaning of the mark on his neck? The candle flickered in the cuddy, the lighting was uncertain. Was Vandien to be accused and suspected because he had a peculiarly shaped birthmark? Her logic fought with her wariness. Courtesy intervened when she realized that Vandien was still standing before her, waiting.

      ‘We are both tired,’ Ki said. The words were enough. He sighed as she blew out the candle. There was less awkwardness as they crawled under the covers, but more watchfulness on Ki’s part. He did not seem to notice. He stretched his body out beside hers, full-length, yet he was careful not to let any touch occur. He was still and silent except for one spell of coughing. Yet Ki could not lose her awareness of him. Anger rose in her. She was sick to death of her fears. Enough that she must watch the skies all day for death. Now must she fear that the man stretched beside her was a servant of the Harpies, an instrument of their revenge? She cautioned herself that she must wait and see. She would not let her hastiness hurt an innocent man. She would never be guilty of that again. And yet she chafed to know, to have her final encounter with the Harpy above, to know what this man beside her was. But she must wait. And waiting was the thing she was worst at. Her last few days at Harper’s Ford seemed to have been years in her life, to have aged her as years on the road with Sven had not.

      Her short knife chewed slowly through the tough stem. Already it needed sharpening again. A poorly forged tool even for this job. Ki squatted, seized the large orange fruit, and lifted it. Moving carefully to avoid the plants that still bore ripening fruit, she lugged the punker over to where the beaten cart track wound through the field. She stacked it with the others. She stopped beside the pile, arching her back to stretch her aching muscles in a new direction. About her the hills were beginning to turn from greens to yellows. Leaves of birch were yellow-veined. Alder would be scarlet soon. The summer was dying. The Harp trees played a sadder song. Or was it the humming of her ears?

      Ki returned to the row, stooped to saw free another large punker. So this was the life of the landed, she reflected bitterly. Now she knew what it was to belong to the dirt under her feet. With a twinge of despair, she thought of her wagon gathering dust in the barn. Her heart yearned for the road. Soon, soon, she promised herself, wondering if she lied again. Soon.

      She lugged the punker to join the others in the pile. She worked alone. Time had not brought her acceptance. There were still those in the family who would not concede that ignorance had brought about that disastrous rite. There were some who would never forgive her for shattering their ideals, even though Cora often told Ki that all was not as bad as they made it out. Ki still did not know what to make of Cora.

      Why did she wish to keep Ki here, and go to such lengths to try to make her happy? СКАЧАТЬ