Black Jade. David Zindell. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: David Zindell
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Героическая фантастика
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007387717
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like a little star. Those of the other masters seemed to resonate with it, gathering radiance from it and feeding it back to Abrasax’s stone, all at once.

      At last, the Grandmaster’s eyes regained their normal focus. And in his deep, strong voice, he announced, ‘This girl’s aura is like none I have ever seen. So pure: as if the flames of her chakras flow toward one color, in one direction. And bright it is – so very bright.’

      Abrasax continued gazing at Estrella, who sat peacefully on her big red cushion gazing back at him. Estrella’s happy smile seemed to warm Abrasax’s heart, and his whole face pulled into a smile, highlighting the deep lines around his eyes.

      ‘Strange,’ he murmured as he looked at her. ‘There is indeed something strange about this girl.’

      ‘Then is it possible,’ Master Storr asked, ‘that she is truly a seard?’

      Abrasax nodded his head. ‘I’m certain that she is. Master Juwain has identified her correctly.’

      ‘But what is a seard?’ Daj asked from his place next to Estrella. It was the first time that evening he had dared to speak. ‘Master Juwain tried to explain it, but I didn’t really understand.’

      ‘I’m not sure that I fully understand, either,’ Abrasax said. ‘But from the accounts in the Book of Illuminations, it is clear that seards are great and pure souls, gifted with being able to see deeply into all things and all people, and most especially the Maitreya. I believe that Estrella might perceive the Shining One where others could not, perhaps not even himself.’

      He went on to say that where I might be the fated guardian of the Lightstone, and therefore of the Maitreya, a seard such as Estrella was his herald.

      ‘Then, Grandfather,’ Master Matai said, ‘you must believe Kasandra’s prophecy will prove true, that the girl will show the Maitreya?’

      ‘I believe the prophecy. She would be drawn to him like a fire moth finding its mate across many miles.’

      Although I could not behold Estrella’s aura just then as Abrasax did, she seemed the brightest being in the room, and her eyes outshone even the silustria of my sword.

      ‘It’s a pity,’ Master Matai said, ‘that she cannot speak to us. I would like to know where she was born, and when. A seard’s stars would be close to those of a Maitreya.’

      ‘It is a pity that she cannot speak,’ Master Okuth said. He was a smallish man who seemed to hold inside his kind green eyes whole rivers of compassion. ‘For pity’s sake, and her own, I would like a chance to heal her of her affliction.’

      Master Juwain held up his varistei and said to him, ‘More than once, before the Red Dragon regained the Lightstone, I tried to use this to heal Estrella – in vain. Of course, I am only a Master Healer; you are the Master Healer.’

      ‘I believe you have done as much as any of us can do,’ Master Okuth told him. ‘At least until the Maitreya is found and comes into his power. My power is now constrained. I am entrusted with a green gelstei, as are you, but the Red Dragon knows that we keep this stone, and I do not dare to use it.’

      ‘Then how do you propose to heal Estrella?’

      ‘In truth, I don’t. At least not here, and not tonight. But it may be that through the Great Gelstei, she could speak to us in a way that we can understand, for a short while.’

      ‘And the cost to the girl? What if she doesn’t want to speak?’

      All eyes now turned on Estrella, sitting calmly as she nibbled on a cake crumb and regarded Master Okuth.

      ‘There should be no cost,’ Master Okuth said.

      ‘Just the opposite,’ Master Matai said. ‘Those whose chakras have been opened by the Great Gelstei feel strengthened and enlivened.’

      ‘And you believe that engendering speech,’ Master Juwain said to Master Okuth, ‘is it merely a matter of opening the girl this way?’

      ‘It is indeed more complicated than that,’ Master Okuth told us. ‘Much more complicated. But let us just say that the power of the seven Openers projects through sound and resonates with the secret music that inheres in all things.’

      Kane scowled at this, and looked at me. I knew that my savage friend hated it when the Brothers spoke so esoterically.

      ‘You have my promise,’ Abrasax assured us, ‘that this test will leave Estrella unharmed. But will she consent to it?’

      Estrella looked at him with complete trust. Then she quickly nodded her head.

      ‘Good,’ Abrasax said. ‘Then why don’t we begin?’

      He held his hand, cupping his clear gelstei, out toward Estrella. The other Masters did likewise with their crystals. Estrella sat very straight and still, not knowing what to expect. She seemed at once curious and bemused by the powers of these seven old men and their mysterious crystals.

      As we all waited, breathing deeply, the seven Openers began to luminesce. I sensed, rather than saw, the seven wheels of light along Estrella’s spine scintillating in response to the gelstei’s touch. The red of the First, Master Matai’s stone, seemed to give its fire to Estrella’s lowest chakra even as something deep inside Estrella called out to it. And this calling we all heard as a single, clear, plangent note. It played back and forth between Estrella and the gelstei. The other Masters with their stones likewise opened Estrella’s other chakras, and a beautiful music poured out into the chamber’s cool air. I could almost see the colors of this music. Master Storr’s gleaming purple stone, I thought, struck deep chords with some secret organ of speech within Estrella’s head. Master Yasul’s gelstei, the Fifth, as blue as a sapphire, blazed more brightly than did any of the others. It seemed to summon a bright song from within Estrella’s throat. Without warning, she began laughing out loud: a delightful sound like the tinkling of bells. And then her mouth opened as perfectly formed words began pouring from her lips like a silver stream:

      ‘I’ve wanted to talk so badly, to tell you things, Val, Maram, Atara, everyone, to tell you everything, and now there is all the time in the world, but so little time. Now, I can speak again, and that’s a miracle but it won’t last because nothing does and yet everything …’

      She continued chattering on in a like way as we all sat listening in amazement. Her voice was sweet, passionate and perfectly clear. It flowed with a musical quality, bright as the notes of a flute. It partook of Atara’s diction and phrasing, and Liljana’s, too, as if she patterned her speech after that of these two women whom she adored. And yet, this torrent of sound fairly soared with a wild joy that was all her own. It seemed that she wanted to cram the entire world into a few, quick, rushing breaths:

      ‘… it’s all so beautiful, and I’m so grateful, Val – Val, Val, Val! – so grateful to you for saving my life. For life. I’ve wanted so badly to sing with you, and Kane, our bright, bloody, beautiful Kane, and all of you, to sing and laugh: to laugh at Maram and his silly, stupid, wonderful jokes. To weep with Atara. No eyes, no tears, no hope, it seems, but love – love, love, love! There is so much to say. But so little, really, only one thing, and I should be glad I can speak again, almost as I did inside, not in words but in a kind of music that gives birth to words. Do you know what I mean? It’s like the singing of the birds: so pretty, so pure, so here … and now, and yet always and forever. This beautiful, beautiful thing – it sings me! I am so happy! And so I can’t help singing, too, to the birds and the sky and the world, and everything sings back, in rubies and rainbows, in songs to the sun, and sometimes even in silence. The silence. It’s pulling me back, soon, too soon, but don’t feel sorry for me, please! These fires that the old men’s gelstei lit inside me flare like little suns, but soon they will fade, I can feel it, quickly burning out but never quite out. Because it always blazes, even in dark things: black gelstei and burnt crosses and hate. Val! – even in the dead! In your father and mother, and mine, wherever they are, because no one is ever