Read Online Inner Circle by Jerzy Peterkiewicz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jerzy Peterkiewicz
Ads: Link
bare, with no hair above or below, that the animals watched with awe. It spoke human sounds and it could also make silent movements which each of them understood. The beards muffled the silent words for the animals, or perhaps these were only beards to cover up what the lips couldn’t do.
I counted my ages by my children. And how old was he, the name-maker, the begetter, the man from the sky to the tree-ape, and the hunter who never killed to my seventh son, the beast killer?
Our father has counted all my ages.’ He knew my thoughts whenever he wanted to know them. And he always called the Sky Man ‘Our father.’
‘Do you see him? It didn’t sound right. ‘Does he show himself to Adam?’
‘No. He speaks to me. Sometimes.’
‘Where?’
‘I can’t tell.’ My husband’s blue eyes became lost in their own colour, no longer his, but wider and deeper, ready for a descent of appearances. ‘I can’t, Eve. 1 don’t remember.’
I wished his eyelids would close to give him a healing shade, but I had to watch his face until my next question hit it hard. What would his lips do—twitch? open? let the tongue out?
‘Does the Sky Man know that three of my daughters are wifed to the treemen?’
‘He knows.’ Every wrinkle in that large and changeable face seemed darker with pain, but the lips remained calm. ‘And there are no treemen, Eve. I named them apes in their beginning.’
‘Is he against my daughters?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You could gather all your sons and kill the treemen who defile my daughters?’
His answer had the music that didn’t belong to his voice:
‘This I say, you shall not kill.’ He got up, his grey head almost touching a bough in the roof. ‘I shall not kill,’ he said in his usual tone.
Then something pierced a thought deep under my skull. It felt like being touched by lightning. Was he telling me where my secret thought lay, or was he receiving it from me, despite myself?
‘That’s why I have come to your land,’ he said.
‘It’s mine and Amo’s.’
‘That’s why I have come. But Amo is no name. I called him after his dead brother, so that the sound which was killed might live again in him.’
‘I will never call him Abel.’
Neither did my husband use that name when talking to Amo. He called him nothing. This was the first time I noticed fear in his manner of speech. Why not say simply: my son? And Amo, too, treated his father as if he had no name, no memories to share, but were a breed by itself, some odd creature from the sky, just as the treeman said.
Yet they talked together of this and that. Was the lake a lake or a sea? It might be worth trying to cross it by boat. Why couldn’t we keep more cattle? What did the last herd die of? Now and again my husband sounded like a tired name-maker who had to repeat aloud his bits of knowledge so that he wouldn’t lose them before passing them on safely into our heads. And he also echoed himself from that earlier likeness which was as faint as music between the skies.
You shall not punish those you cannot judge, you shall not kill those you cannot bring to life; you shall not, shall not, you, you. This was Adam talking to Adam, Adam thinking of Adam, knowing Adam. He shut us off, he exhausted our listless minds with that voice in the likeness of the voice. Then at last I heard silence, and after the silence Amo’s words even more soothing than silence.
‘Teach me to draw a spiky eel, a giant beaver, a dragon too, I will have them on the wall and many others besides, when I build a new wall along the lake against the creatures of the slime.’
‘I don’t know how to make drawings.’ He hesitated and, again, the name of Abel couldn’t leave his mouth. ‘But this full moon inside a ring, you drew it yourself, I was told you did.’
‘Yes, it’s true. But first there was a command in my understanding. I had to put the same sign in every home my children were to
I counted my ages by my children. And how old was he, the name-maker, the begetter, the man from the sky to the tree-ape, and the hunter who never killed to my seventh son, the beast killer?
Our father has counted all my ages.’ He knew my thoughts whenever he wanted to know them. And he always called the Sky Man ‘Our father.’
‘Do you see him? It didn’t sound right. ‘Does he show himself to Adam?’
‘No. He speaks to me. Sometimes.’
‘Where?’
‘I can’t tell.’ My husband’s blue eyes became lost in their own colour, no longer his, but wider and deeper, ready for a descent of appearances. ‘I can’t, Eve. 1 don’t remember.’
I wished his eyelids would close to give him a healing shade, but I had to watch his face until my next question hit it hard. What would his lips do—twitch? open? let the tongue out?
‘Does the Sky Man know that three of my daughters are wifed to the treemen?’
‘He knows.’ Every wrinkle in that large and changeable face seemed darker with pain, but the lips remained calm. ‘And there are no treemen, Eve. I named them apes in their beginning.’
‘Is he against my daughters?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You could gather all your sons and kill the treemen who defile my daughters?’
His answer had the music that didn’t belong to his voice:
‘This I say, you shall not kill.’ He got up, his grey head almost touching a bough in the roof. ‘I shall not kill,’ he said in his usual tone.
Then something pierced a thought deep under my skull. It felt like being touched by lightning. Was he telling me where my secret thought lay, or was he receiving it from me, despite myself?
‘That’s why I have come to your land,’ he said.
‘It’s mine and Amo’s.’
‘That’s why I have come. But Amo is no name. I called him after his dead brother, so that the sound which was killed might live again in him.’
‘I will never call him Abel.’
Neither did my husband use that name when talking to Amo. He called him nothing. This was the first time I noticed fear in his manner of speech. Why not say simply: my son? And Amo, too, treated his father as if he had no name, no memories to share, but were a breed by itself, some odd creature from the sky, just as the treeman said.
Yet they talked together of this and that. Was the lake a lake or a sea? It might be worth trying to cross it by boat. Why couldn’t we keep more cattle? What did the last herd die of? Now and again my husband sounded like a tired name-maker who had to repeat aloud his bits of knowledge so that he wouldn’t lose them before passing them on safely into our heads. And he also echoed himself from that earlier likeness which was as faint as music between the skies.
You shall not punish those you cannot judge, you shall not kill those you cannot bring to life; you shall not, shall not, you, you. This was Adam talking to Adam, Adam thinking of Adam, knowing Adam. He shut us off, he exhausted our listless minds with that voice in the likeness of the voice. Then at last I heard silence, and after the silence Amo’s words even more soothing than silence.
‘Teach me to draw a spiky eel, a giant beaver, a dragon too, I will have them on the wall and many others besides, when I build a new wall along the lake against the creatures of the slime.’
‘I don’t know how to make drawings.’ He hesitated and, again, the name of Abel couldn’t leave his mouth. ‘But this full moon inside a ring, you drew it yourself, I was told you did.’
‘Yes, it’s true. But first there was a command in my understanding. I had to put the same sign in every home my children were to
Similar Books
