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Thirg picked up the sphere and showed it. "There is the world, Groork! For
just one minute forget your dusty texts, written long ago by clerks in their
dungeons, who never saw an ocean, let alone crossed one, and who never looked
beyond any mountain. This form, and only this form, is consistent with all the
facts that have been recorded; no form of platter can be contrived of which
the same can be said. Which form, therefore, should we accept as representing
more closely the reality that exists?"
Groork unplugged himself from the transformer unit and shook his head in
protest. "Your facts are in error, for did you not claim they were amassed
from travelers who have seen the farthest limits of north, south, east, and
west? But it is obvious that no traveler could venture beyond a small region
at the top of that. . ." He pointed at the globe. "Otherwise they would fall
off, as indeed would the methanes of the oceans. But the oceans persist. There
is a fact, Brother Thirg, which you would appear to have chosen conveniently
to ignore."
"That was a source of vexation to me too for a while," Thirg admitted. "But a
possible answer suggested itself to me one bright when I was strolling in the
forest. I stopped to rest for a while by a glade where spectrometers are
assembled, and picked a magnet from one of the storage bins to savor its
scent. The iron grains that it attracted from the debris around where I
was sitting prompted me to wonder if perhaps the world-sphere might draw all
things to itself in the same way that a magnet draws iron grains to
itself from any direction. Just as every line toward the magnet is uniformly
'down' for the grain, so 'down' at every place on the world-sphere would be
toward the ground. The methanes of the oceans would thus seek a level nearest
to the center and remain in the lowest regions, which is as we know to be
true. Hence, you see, the fact is explained."
Thirg paused, but Groork made no response. Thirg held up the sphere to study
it for a moment or two, and then continued in a more distant voice, "The fact
that nobody has ever found a Barrier holding up a solid sky leads me to wonder
if the sky is really solid at all. Could it be nothing more than vapors? And
if so, how far do they extend? Forever? If not, what lies beyond them? Could
there be other worlds? The question intrigues me. Ever since it occurred to me
after I began familiarizing myself with Lofbayel's work, I have been studying
the cycles of full-brights and half-brights as they follow one another across
the world. On the basis that the world is indeed a sphere and the sky nothing
more than vapors, the bright and half-bright periods could be accounted for by
two brilliant objects moving beyond the sky in a complicated but repeating
motion. Where would you look in your Scribings for the knowledge to answer
questions like these, Groork?"
Groork stood up suddenly and dismissed the whole matter with a gesture. "I
did not come here to listen to you compounding your folly by adding more
heresies to those you are guilty of already," he said. "The High Council will
not look leniently upon you one more time. Their patience is exhausted. May
the Lifemaker forgive me for my weakness, but I cannot abandon my brother
though the madness boils within him. Collect together the possessions you
would carry with you, Thirg, and for this bright we can
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ifemaker.txt travel together. But on the far side of the mountains I must lead
a lone path to the destiny that has been written but which is yet to be
revealed.
Hurry. There may be little time."
Thirg stared back sadly. "I doubt if you could ever understand, Groork, even
if I had all the rest of time to try and explain it. Your beliefs are taught
without a question's being tolerated, while mine are learned only after posing
every question. What does it say for the worth of beliefs if they cannot
survive critical scrutiny and dare not permit a word of dissent to be voiced?
Would truth or untruth be the first to tremble in the presence of the other?
It seems "
At that moment the sound of Rex's agitation again came from outside. Groork
rushed to the doorway. "Too late!" he moaned, turning a fearful face as
Thirg strode across the living area after him. "They're here. The King's
soldiers have arrived." Thirg reached the door and looked out past Groork.
Mounted figures in single file were approaching on the trail leading to the
clearing.
12
THIRG STARED FOR SOME SECONDS, AND THEN THE LOUVER VANES covering his
ventilation inlets bristled into a puzzled frown. "Those are not soldiers,"
he said to Groork as the new arrivals emerged from the trail and came fully
into view. He went out and stood before the door; Groork followed warily.
Although the riders carried weapons, they were clad in rough mountain garb,
with heavy cloaks of flexible laminate mail, body armor of acid-resistant and
heat-absorbing organics, and knee-length boots of heavy polymer. The one who
appeared to be the leader, a large, broad-shouldered robeing with rugged,
weather-worn features and a heavy black beard of accumulated
carbon-impregnated plating about his lower face, crossed the clearing and
brought his exhaust-snorting steellion to a halt before Thirg and Groork.
The others fanned out into a semicircle behind.
"Outlaws, unless I am much mistaken," Thirg muttered to Groork. He raised his
head to look up at the leader and asked in a louder voice, "Am I
honored with guests, or merely treated to the rare pleasure of welcoming
passersby?"
"Oh, you are indeed honored," the leader replied. His voice was deep and firm, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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