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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] "Yes! Evil! You pretend to be perfect, but you can't be, no matter how long or hard you try. There's a rotten worm in you just like there is in all men! And all your meditating and sweating and following the damn Sword won't root it out. So what sense is there to your labors? None! None at all!" Edwyr sighed. "Perfection isn't our goal. Freedom is. And to be free, you must be able to be evil as well as good. You're right, Jimson, when you say that the dark demon rides me the same as it does other people. I never said it didn't. The demonic in us is always there, as is the angelic. Neither can be made to disappear. And it's a serious mistake to try to smother one with the other. That kind of suppression is exactly what the Mushin find so attractive about us. Because it just leads to greater and greater pressure building up "No, Jimson, there's no way to shake the shadows from the human soul. The choice between good and evil is always there, always will be. It is, in a very real sense, what makes us human. "All we try to do is to cease clinging to either one." "But evil is stronger than good!" Jimson crowed triumphantly. "It's the ultimate Nothingness, utter destructiveness! It reflects and mirrors the true nature of Reality! There can be nothing mightier than evil, for evil is final!" The Seeker smiled gently, sadly. "Ultimate? Final? Show me the evil in a growing tree. Put the evil of a burning star in my hands and let me hold it. Jimson, Jimson, there's nothing final or ultimate about evil or good. They're ours, they come from within us. The universe doesn't impose either on us. We impose them on ourselves and on each other." "Then it wouldn't be evil for me to kill you?" Jimson leered. "From my point of view, of course it would be. And I'd fight to stop you. But from the standpoint of the First River, it couldn't matter less." Before Jimson could say anything in reply, Mitsuyama interrupted. "If I were to give Jimson permission to cut you down with his sword, right this instant, how would you meet your death Seeker? Unarmed, helpless behind that table, how would your years of labor and study prepare you to die?" Edwyr's face blanched, a look of utter terror filling his eyes. His expression twisted into one of piteous pleading. Both hands thrust out in supplication. "Please," he cried brokenly, "Please spare my life! Ahhhh! Ohhhhh! It hurts! It hurts!" He writhed for a moment and fell forward on the table with a thud. After a moment of breathless stillness, he sat upright again and gazed about with calm indifference. The PlainsLord's face grew dark with sudden anger. "Do you dare to mock me?" he growled. "No, my Lord," the young man replied. "I'm merely pointing out that you misinterpret the purpose of the Way. "The freedom we seek through the Way is not freedom from the world. It's freedom to be truly in and of the world. The Way doesn't provide an escape from the pain of life or the horror of death. When you stub your toe, it hurts, no matter what your philosophy. And the far more frightening agony of death is always there regardless of what you believe. "The Way simply teaches us to accept death as much as we accept life. By clinging to neither, we are no longer bound by them. It's not that they cease to matter that would be a horrid perversion and inhumanly cold it's just that they no longer rule and suffocate us. "If I meet my death more calmly than another, it's not because I fear it any less. Nor because I place a lower value on my life. Nor again because I've found some magical way of transcending both. The real reason is simply that I've learned... "Be silent!" roared Mitsuyama. His face twisted with rage, he lunged to his feet and stood glaring furiously at Edwyr. "I've heard enough of your mystical gibberish!" His eyes swept contemptuously over the other Lords. "Can't you see what he's doing, you fools? We bring him here to question him and all he does is confuse us with his cursed philosophy! The philosophy of that damned traitor, Andretti! We'll learn nothing from him!" His head snapped back to fix Edwyr with his stare. "Just what the hell are you up to, Seeker?" he asked, his voice husky with barely controlled fury, his hand moving automatically to the dagger at his waist. The young man's eyes locked briefly with his. Mitsuyama stiffened suddenly as if jolted. Then, without warning, his control crumbled and he ripped his knife from its sheath. In total silence, he strode swiftly to stand in front of the Seeker. With a savage grimace slashing his face, he lifted the blade high and stepped forward, bringing it down in a blurred arc. With a crash, it struck the table top, sinking into the wood almost up to its hilt. For an instant, the two men's eyes met. Tearing his gaze from the Seeker's, Mitsuyama whirled to Jimson. In a cold, emotionless voice he ordered, "Take him back to his cell. At sundown we'll see how well he meets his death!" XXI Carlson paced in tight, nervous circles, wringing his hands and muttering anxiously to himself. "What's going on? When are they coming back? What's going to happen to us? Why . . ." The worried litany rolled on and on with only minor variations. A sudden noise from the door startled him into motionless silence. Someone was lifting the bar! Momentarily confused, dreading whatever was about to happen, he stood in the middle of the room, rooted to the spot. The door swung open and Jimson strode into the room, smiling maliciously. Edwyr followed almost immediately behind, an amused expression on his face, looking for all the world as if he'd just returned from a short stroll around the courtyard. The two soldiers who were guarding the door finished off the procession, entering somewhat uncertainly. Beyond them, filling the hallway, were the two squads that had accompanied the Seeker to and from the Council Chamber. Ignoring the little Keeper, Jimson turned and bowed mockingly to Edwyr. "I'll be back to get you just before sundown. Until then, just relax and enjoy yourself." He straightened up his face becoming hard. His glance went past the Seeker to the two guards. "Be careful," he commanded sharply. "He's a tricky bastard. If anything goes wrong, you'll take his place in the execution circle." With a final, triumphant glare and a vicious bark of laughter, he strode from the room. One guard backed out while the other pulled the door shut. Just before it closed, Edwyr caught the man's eyes and asked in a husky voice "How's Beth?" They both reacted just in time to catch the Seeker's wink. The door shut with a thud and the bar dropped into place with a dull crash, as if slammed down in anger. In two swift steps, Edwyr was at the door, his ear pressed to the wood. Carlson, his voice trembling, started to ask what was going on, but the young man held his finger to his lips, signaling for silence. After a few moments of listening, he seemed satisfied and stepped back into the middle of the room. "Carlson," he whispered, a slight smile playing about his lips, "they're going to execute me at sundown." The news hit the Keeper like a physical blow. He sagged. The Seeker shot out a hand to steady him. The little man's mind reeled, thought following thought in a chaotic tumbling. They're going to kill him! I'm such a coward. My knowledge what'll happen to my quantum theory? I'll go crazy! No, I'll fight! Oh [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |