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. Tedric by E. E. Smith (digital e reader .TXT) 📖
- Author: E. E. Smith
Book online «Tedric by E. E. Smith (digital e reader .TXT) 📖». Author E. E. Smith
"Not that, sire, ever. If there's anything in this world or the next I don't want to be, it's Lady Rhoann's brother."
"Make him Lord of the Marches, father," the girl said, sharply. "Knowst what the sages said."
"'Twould be better," the monarch agreed. "Tedric of old Lomarr, I appoint you Lord of the Upper, the Middle, and the Lower Marches, the Highest of the High."
Tedric went to his knees. "I thank you, sire. Have I your backing in wiping out what is left of Sarpedion's power?"
"If you will support the Throne with the strength I so clearly see is to be yours, I will back you, with the full power of the Throne, in anything you wish to do."
"Of course I will support you, sire, as long as I live and with all that in me lies. Since time first was my blood has been vassal to yours, and ever will be. My brain, my liver, and my heart are yours."
"I thank you, Lord Tedric. Proceed."
Tedric snapped to his feet. His sword flashed high in air. His heavy voice rang out.
"People of Lomarr, listen to a herald of the Throne! Sarpedion is dead; Llosir lives. Human sacrifice—yes, all sacrifice except the one I am about to perform, of Sarpedion himself to Llosir—is done. That is and will be the law. To that end there will be no more priests, but a priestess only. I speak as herald for the Throne of Lomarr!"
He turned to the girl, still clinging to his side. "I had it first in mind, Lady Rhoann, to make you priestess, but...."
"Not I!" she interrupted, vigorously. "No priestess I, Lord Tedric!"
"By Llosir's brain, girl, you're right—you've been wasted long enough!"
In another time-track another Skandos and another Furmin, almost but not quite identical with those first so named, pored over a chronoviagram.
"The key point in time is there," the Prime Physicist said, thoughtfully, placing the point of his pencil near one jagged peak of the trace. "The key figure is Lord Tedric of Lomarr, the discoverer of the carburization of steel. He could be manipulated very easily ... but, after all, the real catastrophe is about three hundred eighteen years away; there is nothing alarming about the shape of the curve; and any interference with the actual physical events of the past would almost certainly prove calamitous. Over the years I have found your judgment good. What is your thought on this matter, Furmin?"
"I would say to wait, at least for a few weeks or months. Even though eight hundred twelve fails, number eight hundred fifty or number nine hundred may succeed. At very worst, we will be in the same position then as now to take the action which has for a hundred years been specifically forbidden by both Council and School."
"So be it."
THE END
The People Who Make OTHER WORLDS
No. 11
EDWARD E. SMITH
Born May 2, 1890; Sheboygan, Wisconsin. In December of the same year the family moved to Spokane, Washington, where we lived for about twelve years. I went to school through the sixth grade, sold newspapers, and so on—the routine life of a husky kid living on the wrong side of the tracks.
In 1902 we moved to a homestead on the Pend d'Oreille River, in northern Idaho. There, besides picking up (in rather sketchy fashion) three more years of schooling, I worked at clearing land, harvesting, hay-baling, ranching, and umpteen different jobs in lumbering: from swamping out logs in the woods clear through to planing finished lumber in the mills.
Deciding that I didn't like the woods, I let my older brother and sisters back me into a stiff collar and ship me to the prep school of the University of Idaho. From 1907 until 1914 I was either in school or earning money to go back. Mining, surveying, dozens of jobs in many lines—far too many to list here.
In 1914 I graduated in chemical engineering. First job offered was in food work in the Bureau of Chemistry, Washington, D. C. Took it, and started studying organic and food chemistry at George Washington University. Married Jeannie MacDougall, of Boise, Idaho (formerly of Glasgow, Scotland) on Oct. 5, 1915. Three children—and, as of 1952, eight grandchildren. Became a specialist in cereal technology.
Came the war. Wanted to fly a Jenny, but chemists were too scarce. (Or were Jennies too valuable?) So they gave me a commission in the reserve and loaned me to Herbert Hoover—for the duration, as it turned out.
In pursuit of my M.S. and Ph.D. degrees I worked under Charles E. Munroe, probably the greatest high-explosives man yet to live. Got 'em—the M.S. in 1917, the Ph.D. in 1918; both from George Washington University.
Chief Chemist F. W. Stock & Sons, Hillsdale, Mich., from 1919 to 1936; where I developed a line of fully-prepared cereal mixes; the most important of which turned out to be donut mixes. From 1936 to 1941 I was production manager for the Dawn Donut Co., of Jackson, Mich.
Shortly after Pearl Harbor I went to Kingsbury Ordnance Plant, LaPorte, Ind., as chemical engineer on high explosives. (I was one year over age for reinstatement of my World War One commission). Senior chemical engineer, assistant chief, chief. Late in 1943 I was made head of the Inspection Division, and early in 1944 I was fired. Most of 1944 and most of 1945 I worked in various capacities on light farm machinery and heavy tanks for Allis-Chalmers.
On Oct. 1, 1945, I came to Chicago as manager of the Cereal Mix Division of J. W. Allen & Co., which position I still hold. It's the biggest and best job I ever had. It has only one drawback—on it, unfortunately, I not only can't write stories on company time, but (since I have to concentrate my one-cylinder brain on SF in order to write SF) I can't write on my own time because the job gets in the way.
Thus, I haven't done much writing since 1945. However, I hope to do more of it from now on. For, although I am only an amateur—or at best, a semi-pro—author, I certainly do not want to become an ex-author!
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tedric, by Edward Elmer Smith
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