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Caldwell was like a chess player, Hunt had noticed, building his winning
positions from the accruing of many small advantages, none of them especially
significant in itself to begin with, or created with any definite idea at the
time of how it would eventually be used. In Gina's case, he could simply have
told her that there was nothing he could do, and sent her away. But instead,
he had invested the effort of doing her a small favor, which really had cost
him nothing. And as things had turned out, the return had come a lot sooner
than anyone could have guessed.
Caldwell read that Hunt had assessed everything accurately, and gave a
satisfied nod. "How did you leave things with her?" he asked.
"I said I'd get back. She's still at the Maddox. I wanted to bring it up with
you first."
"You talk to her, then, and tell her we want to send her to Jevlen.
We'll work out some cover angle for public consumption." Caldwell waved in the
direction of his outer office. "Mitzi has a line to the Vishnu. She'll fix the
details. Then, that's it, unless you've got any other points for now."
Hunt started to rise, then looked up. "What are you expecting me to come back
with this time, Gregg?" he asked.
"How do I know?" Caldwell spread his hands and made a face. "Lost planet,
starship, interstellar civilization. What does that leave? The next thing can
only be a universe."
"That's all? You know, you may have me there, Gregg," Hunt said, smiling.
"There aren't too many of those left. Where am I supposed to find another
universe?"
Caldwell stared at him expressionlessly. "I don't think anything you did could
surprise me anymore," he replied.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The gods had turned away from the world of Waroth, and their stars had gone
out. With the emptiness in the sky came changelessness upon the land. The
currents of life, which brought storms and stirred the landscapes, died to a
flicker, and sameness hung like a stupor everywhere from day to day and from
place to place. Crops failed; orchards wilted. Sea monsters that devoured
ships moved in close to the shores, and the fishermen were afraid to leave
their harbors. Marauding bands roamed at large, plundering and burning.
Sickness and pestilences came.
In the city of Orenash, the king and the council of rulers summoned the high
tribunal of priests, who read from the signs that the reason the gods were
abandoning the people was that the people were turning away from the gods by
permitting sorcerers to meddle in knowledge that was not intended for this
world. The currents and the stars would return when the people atoned and
cleansed themselves by renouncing such arts and sacrificing to the gods those
guilty of practicing them. Accordingly, the sorcerers were rounded up and
brought in chains before the Grand Assembly. Thrax's uncle, Dalgren, was among
them.
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"They are not Seers. They have not seen Hyperia," the Holy Prosecutor
thundered at the trial. "But they seek knowledge, here, now, of mysteries that
the gods have seen fit not to unfold until the life that comes after Waroth.
Thus they would exalt themselves and set themselves above the gods."
The Prosecutor glowered. "They speak of laws! Of processes constrained to
predictability by strange powers of lawfulness beyond our comprehension.
They are not Seers, mind you; but they feel able to tell us of the rules that
govern Hyperia, which the Seers who have seen Hyperia have never seen. Is it
they, then, are we to conclude -- these sorcerers -- who are to say what will
be in Hyperia, rather then the gods?
"Their ambition spurred them to be as the gods. But, unable to expand their
own powers to embrace the complexities of chaos that support the world, the
sorcerers had to make the world simple enough to fit with what they could
comprehend. They sought consistency across space and predictability over time
-- laws that would remain unchanged, making all objects stay the same no
matter where or when they were observed.
"The gods granted them what they sought...and now they are letting us see the
results of it. The currents that fed chaos are dying. Lawfulness is taking
over the land, and the land, too, dies, stifled and crushed by sameness. For
it is chaos that brings change, and change is life. Change is vigor. Change is
the uncertainty that allows Good to vie with Evil, action to take meaning, and
for the judgments of the gods to prevail."
He stabbed a finger in the direction of the accused, detaching a bolt of light
that dispersed and vanished in a puff of expanding radiance. "The gods have
shown us our folly. Now they must be paid the atonement that they demand..."
To determine the judgment, a year-old uskiloy was tethered inside a
consecrated circle before the Assembly and thrice blessed. Then, seven Masters
in unison prayed for a lightning stroke to appear and smite within the circle.
A swirl of night and light gathered above the court before the temple, and
when the flash came, the uskiloy was consumed. Thus, the verdict delivered
was: Guilty. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]