The Burning Shore - Smith Wilbur (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
Bigger and blacker than your bees, he had boasted, land so vicious that I have seen them sting a bull buffalo to death Barely allowing herself to breathe, her skin crawling in anticipation of the first burning dart, forcing herself not to run, she followed the diminutive figures ahead of her.
The swarming masses of venomous insects were only inches above her, and the humming chorus seemed to rise angrily until it threatened to deafen her, This way, Nam Child. Do not fear, for the little winged people will smell your fear, H'ani called softly, and a bee alighted on Centaine's cheek.
She raised her hand instinctively to strike it off her, and then with an effort checked the movement. The bee tickled across her face on to her upper lip, then another settled on her upraised forearm.
She peered at it in horror. It was enormous, black as coal, with dark golden rings around its abdomen. The filmy wings were closed like scissor-blades and its multiple eyes twinkled in the poor light. Please, little bee, Please Centaine whispered, and the insect arched its back, and from its banded abdomen the point of its sting protruded, a dark red needle-point. Please, let me and my baby pass! The bee curved its body and the sting touched the soft skin of her inner elbow. Centaine tensed herself; tanned she knew that the stabbing pain would be followed by the sickly sweet odour of the venom that would madden and infuriate the vast swarm above her. She imagined herself smothered under a living carpet of bees, writhing on the floor of the cavern, dying the most hideous of deaths.
Please, she whispered. Let my baby be born in your secret place, and we will honour you all the days of our lives. The bee retracted the throbbing sting and performed an intricate weaving dance upon her arm, turning and curtseying and reversing, and then with a quicksilver flicker of its wings darted away.
Centaine walked on slowly, and ahead of her she saw a golden nimbus of reflected light. The insect on her face crawled down over her lips, so she could not speak again, but she prayed silently.
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" please, little bee, let me go for my baby's sake. A sharp buzz and the bee flashed before her eyes, a golden mote as it left her, and though her skin tingled and itched from the memory of its horny feet, she kept her hands at her sides and walked on with a measured step. It seemed for ever, then she reached the tunnel's end and stooped through it into the early dawn light, and her legs began to fold in reaction to her terror. She might have fallen if O'wa had not steadied her.
You are safe now. The guardians have allowed us to enter the sacred place.
The words roused her, and though she still trembled and her breathing was rough, Centaine looked around her.
They had passed through into a hidden basin in the heart of the mountain, a perfectly round amphitheatre in the rock. The walls were sheer, hundreds of feet high and with a dark satanic sheen to them, as though scorched in the flames of a blast furnace, but above that it was open to the sky, The deep bowl of rock was perhaps a mile across at its widest point. At this time of day the sunlight had not penetrated down to the floor, and the groves of graceful trees that covered it were cool and dewy. They reminded Centaine of olives, with fine pale leaves and bunches of reddish-yellow fruit on the wide-spread boughs. The floor of the valley was gently dished, and as Centaine followed H'ani down through the trees, the ground beneath them was carpeted with fallen fruit.
H'ani picked up one of them and offered it to Centaine.
Mongongo, very good Centaine bit into it and exclaimed as her tooth struck painfully on the large kernel in its centre. There was only a thin layer of flesh around it, but it was tart and tasty as a palm date, though not as sweet.
From the branches above them a flight of plump green pigeons exploded into noisy flight, and Centaine realized that the valley was alive with birds and small animals come in the dawn to feast on the fruits of the mongongo groves.
The Place of All Life, she whispered, entranced by the weird beauty, by the stark contrast of bare blasted rock cliffs against this gently wooded bottom land.
O'wa hurried along the rough path that led down into the centre of the bowl, and as Centaine followed she glimpsed a small hillock of black volcanic rock through the trees ahead. Centaine saw that the hill was symmetrical and cone-shaped, and set in the exact centre of the amphitheatTe like the boss in the centre of a shield.
Like the valley floor, the hill itself was heavily forested.
Tall elephant grass and niongongo trees grew profusely among the black volcanic boulders. A troop of black-faced vervet monkeys chattered at them from the trees and ducked their heads threateningly, grimacing with alarm, as they approached the hillock.
When Centaine and H'ani caught up with O'wa, he was standing facing a dark opening in the side of the hill. It looked like the mouth of a mine-shaft, but as she peered into it Centaine realized that the floor of the shaft sloped down at a gentle angle. She pushed past O'wa the better to examine it, but the old man seized her arm.
Be not hasty, Nam Child, we must make preparation in the correct manner. And he drew her back and led her gently away.
A little further on, there was an ancient San camp-site amongst the sheltering rocks. The thatched roofs of the shelters had collapsed with age. O'wa burned them to the ground, for disused huts harbour snakes and vermin, and the two women rebuilt them with saplings and freshly cut grass.
I am hungry. Centaine realized that she had not eaten since the previous evening.
Come. H'ani led her into the grove, and they filled their satchels with the fallen fruit of the mongongo trees.
Back in the camp, HaM showed Centaine how to strip off the outer layer of flesh and then to crack the hard central nut between two flat stones. The kernel looked like a dried almond. They ate a few of these, to take the edge off their hunger. They tasted like walnuts.
We will eat them in many ways, H'ani promised. And each way they taste different, roasted, pounded with leaves, boiled like maize bread, they will be our only food in this place where all killing is forbidden. While they prepared the meal, O'wa returned to camp with a bundle of freshly dug roots, and went aside to prepare them in private, scraping and chopping with his beloved clasp knife.
They ate before dark, and Centaine found the meal of nuts unexpectedly satisfying. As soon as her stomach was filled, the effect of the day's excitements and exertions caught up with her, and she could barely drag herself to her shelter.
She awoke refreshed and with a sense of unexplained excitement. The San were already busy around the camp fire and as soon as she joined them and squatted in the circle, O'wa, puffed up with nervous anticipation and self importance, told them, We must now prepare to go down into the most secret of places. Do you agree to the purification, old grandmother? It was obviously a formal question.
I agree, old grandfather. H'ani clapped softly in acquiescence.
Do you agree to the purification, Nam Child? I agree, old grandfather.
Centaine clapped in imitation and O'wa bobbed his head and from the pouch on his belt brought out a buck-horn. The top had been pierced, and O'wa had stuffed the horn with the chopped roots and herbs that he had gathered the previous afternoon.
Now he picked a live coal out of the fire with his fingers, and juggling it to prevent it burning his skin, he dropped it into the trumpet-shaped opening of the buckhom. He blew upon it and a tendril of blue smoke rose in the still air as the herbs smouldered.
Once the pipe was burning evenly, Ofwa rose and stood behind the two squatting women. He placed his mouth over the pierced tip of the horn and sucked on it strongly, then blew the smoke over them. It was acrid and sharply unpleasant, and left a bitter taste in Centaine's throat.
