Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Lani People by Jesse F. Bone (best fiction books to read .txt) 📖
- Author: Jesse F. Bone
Book online «The Lani People by Jesse F. Bone (best fiction books to read .txt) 📖». Author Jesse F. Bone
“You’ll stay here where it’s safe,” Kennon said flatly.
“I’m going with you,” Copper repeated. “I don’t want to live without you.”
“I tell you I won’t be hurt. And one quick look isn’t going to bother whatever’s down there.”
“That’s what Roga the Foolish said when he opened Lyssa’s tower. But he brought men to Flora. And your little look may bring an even greater calamity.”
Kennon shrugged, and started Walking toward the crater’s edge.
Copper followed.
He turned to order her back, but the words died on his tips as he saw the terror and determination on her face. Neither commands nor pleas would move her. If he went she would follow. The only way he could stop her would be with violence, and he didn’t want to manhandle her. He felt an odd mixture of pride, tenderness, and admiration for her. Were their situations reversed, he doubted whether he would have the courage she was showing. He sighed. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he did need an antiradiation suit.
“All right,” he said. “You win. I’ll get some protective clothing and look at it later.”
Her knees sagged, but he caught her before she fell, and held her erect until her strength returned. Belatedly he understood the emotional strain that had been gripping her. “If you come back later, sir, you’ll take me with you.” The words were a statement, not a question.
He nodded. “Providing you wear a radiation suit,” he said.
She grimaced with distaste and he chuckled. Clothing and Copper simply didn’t get along together.
“Well?”
“All right,” she said unhappily.
“And there’s one more condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.
“That you tell me about this place. You obviously know something about it, and with all your talking, you’ve never mentioned it to me.”
“It is forbidden to talk of these things to men,” Copper said—and then, perversely, “Do you want me to tell you now?”
“No—it can wait. We have come a long way and I am hungry. I listen poorly on an empty stomach. Let’s go back to the jeep and you can tell me later.”
Copper smiled. “That’s good,” she said. “I’d feel better away from this place.”
CHAPTER XIII
“I was a poor learner of the redes,” Copper confessed. “And I’ll have to skip the Mysteries. I never even tried to learn them. Somehow I was sure I’d never be a preceptress.” She settled herself more comfortably on the tawny grass and watched him as he lay on his back beside her.
“Eh?” Kennon said, “Preceptress?”
“The guardians of our traditions. They know the redes and mysteries by heart.”
“And you have kept your religion alive that way all these years?”
“It isn’t exactly religion,” Copper said. “It’s more like history, we learn it to remember that we were once a great race—and that we may be again. Someday there will come a male, a leader to bring us out of bondage, and our race will be free of dependence on men. There will be pairings again, and freedom to live as we please.” She looked thoughtfully at Kennon. “You might even be the one—even though you are human. You’re different from the others.”
“You’re prejudiced.” Kennon smiled. “I’m no different. Well—not very different at any rate.”
“That is not my thought,” Copper said. “You are very different indeed. No man has ever resisted a Lani as long as you have.”
Kennon shook his head. “Let’s not go into that now. What are these redes?”
“I do not remember them all,” Copper apologized. “I was—”
“You’ve said that before. Tell me what you do know.”
“I remember the beginning fairly well,” she said. “It goes back to the time before Flora when everything was nothing and the Master Himself was lonely.”
Without warning her voice changed to a rhythmic, cadenced chant that was almost a song. Her face became rapt and introspective as she rocked slowly from side to side. The rhythm was familiar and then he recognized it—the unintelligible music he had often heard coming from the barracks late at night when no men were around—the voiceless humming that the Lani sang at work.
First there was Darkness—starless and sunless
Void without form—darker than night
Then did the Master—Lord of Creation
Wave His right hand, saying, “Let there be light!”
Verse, Kennon thought. That was logical. People remember poetry better than prose. But the form was not what he’d normally expect. It was advanced, a style that was past primitive blank verse or heroic pentameter. He listened intently as Copper went on.
Light filled the heavens, bright golden glowing, Brought to the Void by His wondrous hand; Then did the Master—Lord of Creation— Nod His great head, saying, “Let there be land!” Air, land, and water formed into being, Born in the sight of His all-seeing eyes; Then did the master—Lord of Creation— Smile as He murmured, “Let life arise!” All of the life conceived by the Master, Varied in shape as the grasses and birds; Hunters and hunted, moveless and moving, Came into form at the sound of His words.“That’s a great deal like Genesis,” Kennon said with mild astonishment. “Where could you have picked that up?”
“From the beginning of our race,” Copper said. “It came to us with Ulf and Lyssa—but what is Genesis?”
“A part of an ancient religion—one that is still followed on some of the Central Worlds. Its followers call themselves Christians. They say it came from Earth, the mother-world of men.”
“Our faith has no name. We are children of Lyssa, who was a daughter of the Master.”
“It is an odd similarity,” Kennon said. “But other races have had stories of the Creation. And possibly there may be another explanation. Your ancestors could have picked this up from Alexander’s men. They came from Earth originally and some of them could have been Christians.”
“No,” Cooper said. “This rede is long before Man Alexander. It is the origin of our world, even before Ulf and Lyssa. It is the first Book—the Book of the God-spell. Man Alexander came in the sixth Book—the Book of Roga.”
“There’s no point in arguing about it,” Kennon said. “Go on—tell me
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