Read Online And on the Eighth Day by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellery Queen
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patriarch shook his head. As it was, so had it been. He did not know.
And, duly, Ellery marveled and went on to feed his stomach. The communal dining hall was like a barn with many windows, full of light and air and hearty smells. The food was simple and filling—a vegetable soup, chili and pinto beans, steamed corn with butter, stewed fruit, and another variety of herb tea. A young married couple waited on them; apparently this was a rotational duty. Wide-eyed, reserved, yet shyly expectant, with proper deference toward the Teacher, they gave most of their attention to the guest, the outsider. The only outsider they had ever seen.
Throughout Ellery’s meal the Teacher prayed silently. When Ellery was finished, the Teacher led him outside; and for the remainder of the afternoon—until the shadows inundated the land and the windows began to sprout candles—the old man conducted him about the Valley, answering Ellery’s questions. Up and down the inner rim of Crucible Hill they went, surveying the cultivated fields, greeting the people at their toil. Ellery was fascinated. He had never seen so many different shades of green in a state of nature. And everything was aromatic with growing things and sagebrush smoke—the wood of the sagebrush was brought in from the desert hills, the Teacher told him, to feed the fires of Quenan …
The dream quality intensified; in one day the world outside had become invisible in the mists, and the mists themselves had almost been forgotten. It was as if Quenan and all that it contained, including himself, were the world. (Had Adam and Eve known the nature of their Garden until they were cast out of it?)
On his curious sublevel the old Ellery kept musing. Where were art, and music, and literature, and science in this capsule in space-time? They were not here. But also not here—so far as he could tell—were discontent, and hatred, and vice, and greed, and war. The truth, it seemed to him, was that here in the lost valley, under the leadership of the all-wise patriarch, existed an earthly Eden whose simple guides were love of neighbors, obedience to the law, humility, mercy, and kindness.
And, above all, faith in the Wor’d.
It was late that night when Ellery finally voiced the question he had struggled with from the beginning.
They stood in the open doorway of the Holy Congregation House, with the soft uproar of the night in their ears. A sweet odor rose from the damp earth, resting from the day. The small glow of the lamp over the sanquetum door shone behind them in the quiet building. “You are troubled, Elroï,” the Teacher said. “Yes,” said Ellery. “Yes … It seems so long ago that we met. But it was only yesterday, at sunset, on the crest of the hill.”
The Teacher nodded. His remarkable eyes pierced the darkness as if it were not there.
“You spoke then as if you had been expecting me, Teacher.”
“That is so.”
“But how could you have known I was coming? I didn’t know it myself. I had no idea I was going to take the wrong turn—” The Teacher said, “It was written.” So might a priest of the Toltec have answered Cortés, thought Ellery; and instantly wondered why the thought had come to him. Cortés, whose armor glittered like the sun god whose return had been predicted. Cortés, who had brought to the faithful of Quetzalcoatl only death and destruction. Ellery stirred. “You spoke, Teacher,” he said cautiously (was it out of some atavistic fear that he might unleash evil merely by speaking of it?), you spoke of a great trouble that would befall your Valley and your people. And you said that I was sent to prepare—”
“To prepare the way. Yes. And to glorify the Wor’d.”
“But what trouble, Teacher? And where is it written?”
The patriarch’s eyes rested on him. “In the Book of Mk’h.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ellery said. “The Book of what?”
“The Book of Mk’h,” the Teacher said. “The Book which was lost.”
A
And, duly, Ellery marveled and went on to feed his stomach. The communal dining hall was like a barn with many windows, full of light and air and hearty smells. The food was simple and filling—a vegetable soup, chili and pinto beans, steamed corn with butter, stewed fruit, and another variety of herb tea. A young married couple waited on them; apparently this was a rotational duty. Wide-eyed, reserved, yet shyly expectant, with proper deference toward the Teacher, they gave most of their attention to the guest, the outsider. The only outsider they had ever seen.
Throughout Ellery’s meal the Teacher prayed silently. When Ellery was finished, the Teacher led him outside; and for the remainder of the afternoon—until the shadows inundated the land and the windows began to sprout candles—the old man conducted him about the Valley, answering Ellery’s questions. Up and down the inner rim of Crucible Hill they went, surveying the cultivated fields, greeting the people at their toil. Ellery was fascinated. He had never seen so many different shades of green in a state of nature. And everything was aromatic with growing things and sagebrush smoke—the wood of the sagebrush was brought in from the desert hills, the Teacher told him, to feed the fires of Quenan …
The dream quality intensified; in one day the world outside had become invisible in the mists, and the mists themselves had almost been forgotten. It was as if Quenan and all that it contained, including himself, were the world. (Had Adam and Eve known the nature of their Garden until they were cast out of it?)
On his curious sublevel the old Ellery kept musing. Where were art, and music, and literature, and science in this capsule in space-time? They were not here. But also not here—so far as he could tell—were discontent, and hatred, and vice, and greed, and war. The truth, it seemed to him, was that here in the lost valley, under the leadership of the all-wise patriarch, existed an earthly Eden whose simple guides were love of neighbors, obedience to the law, humility, mercy, and kindness.
And, above all, faith in the Wor’d.
It was late that night when Ellery finally voiced the question he had struggled with from the beginning.
They stood in the open doorway of the Holy Congregation House, with the soft uproar of the night in their ears. A sweet odor rose from the damp earth, resting from the day. The small glow of the lamp over the sanquetum door shone behind them in the quiet building. “You are troubled, Elroï,” the Teacher said. “Yes,” said Ellery. “Yes … It seems so long ago that we met. But it was only yesterday, at sunset, on the crest of the hill.”
The Teacher nodded. His remarkable eyes pierced the darkness as if it were not there.
“You spoke then as if you had been expecting me, Teacher.”
“That is so.”
“But how could you have known I was coming? I didn’t know it myself. I had no idea I was going to take the wrong turn—” The Teacher said, “It was written.” So might a priest of the Toltec have answered Cortés, thought Ellery; and instantly wondered why the thought had come to him. Cortés, whose armor glittered like the sun god whose return had been predicted. Cortés, who had brought to the faithful of Quetzalcoatl only death and destruction. Ellery stirred. “You spoke, Teacher,” he said cautiously (was it out of some atavistic fear that he might unleash evil merely by speaking of it?), you spoke of a great trouble that would befall your Valley and your people. And you said that I was sent to prepare—”
“To prepare the way. Yes. And to glorify the Wor’d.”
“But what trouble, Teacher? And where is it written?”
The patriarch’s eyes rested on him. “In the Book of Mk’h.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ellery said. “The Book of what?”
“The Book of Mk’h,” the Teacher said. “The Book which was lost.”
A
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