Read Online The Forest at the Edge of the World by Trish Mercer - Free Book Online
Authors: Trish Mercer
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Sagas, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genre Fiction, Religion & Spirituality, Christian fiction, Family Saga, Teen & Young Adult, Christian Books & Bibles, Religious & Inspirational Fiction
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Captain. I enjoy discovering the truth the Creator and His guides left for us.”
Captain Shin held up a finger. “Can truth be found from other sources, Miss Peto? Can’t we learn to do things without the guidance of the Creator? We’ve been without the influence of guides for a lmost 120 years now, and we seem to be just fine.”
“Are you suggesting, Captain Shin,” she glowered, “that losing our last guide in 200, his murder in the forest above Moorland, ending the words of the Creator to us, was progressive? ”
The angry tension that filled the amphitheater told the captain what his response better be if he had any hope of winning any hearts and minds that night.
“Miss Peto, any man’s murder is tragic,” he said somberly. “And the death of the last holy man is beyond that. Of course I’d never suggest the death of Guide Pax was acceptable. But I would submit that we have carried on admirably since then, and those in this audience who still revere The Writings as deeply as you do, demonstrate that the spirit of the guides is still strong and viable. Perhaps the Creator now wants us to act for ourselves and progress to the best of our abilities without His direct guidance. Miss Peto, we didn’t need a guide or the Creator to discover how to turn flax to linen, or discover silk.
“But, perhaps,” he said with a growing smile that warmed his features and began to warm the audience as well, much to Mahrree’s disappointment, “the Creator did influence that woman to do her wash under the mulberry bushes so that the silk cocoons would fall into her hot water and make such an absurd but useful mess. And it wasn’t because of the guides that men discovered ways to combine different soils, gravel, and water to create mortar to hold rock together. Our ancestors discovered that themselves. They also learned how to turn the pines north of Quake and to the west of Trades into pulp and thin paper, allowing us to print far more books than if we had only costly parchment. We did all that!
“Miss Peto,” he continued earnestly, “I believe the Creator gave us minds and choices so that we could become creators ourselves. He wants us to experiment, try, fail, and try again until we succeed. That’s progress, Miss Peto, and I submit that the Creator is pleased with us when we experiment. In that light, the Creator is pleased with the Administrators when they experiment. These changes in education? Just experiments to see if we can progress to something even greater.”
Mahrree couldn’t do anything while the crowd whole-heartedly applauded the captain, except plot against him. In one little speech the captain, who was now smiling in triumph to the villagers, had taken her accusation of dismissing the death of the last guide to suggesting that the Creator would be pleased with the Administrators. She hadn’t anticipated he could twist the argument so quickly.
She’d just have to twist it back.
“Captain Shin,” she started loudly, “what year is this?”
The audience immediately silenced at the obvious question.
The captain blinked. “It’s 319.”
“What year is it in Idumea?”
Now he squinted. “Still 319. Has been for the last six days.”
“But it will instead be 313, if some professors at the University of Idumea have their way. Correct?”
The amphitheater waited silently.
The captain swallowed. “Perhaps.”
The members of the audience looked at each other in surprise. No one had heard this before, but Mahrree had, from another teacher she knew from her university days in Mountseen.
“You see,” Mahrree turned to the villagers, “a few professors, one of them a brother to the Administrator of Culture, believe that our history should begin with the foundation of Idumea, and that the six years preceding that, when the first five hundred families were under the tutelage of the Creator for three years, then under the go vernance of His chosen Guide Hieram, be eliminated from our
Captain Shin held up a finger. “Can truth be found from other sources, Miss Peto? Can’t we learn to do things without the guidance of the Creator? We’ve been without the influence of guides for a lmost 120 years now, and we seem to be just fine.”
“Are you suggesting, Captain Shin,” she glowered, “that losing our last guide in 200, his murder in the forest above Moorland, ending the words of the Creator to us, was progressive? ”
The angry tension that filled the amphitheater told the captain what his response better be if he had any hope of winning any hearts and minds that night.
“Miss Peto, any man’s murder is tragic,” he said somberly. “And the death of the last holy man is beyond that. Of course I’d never suggest the death of Guide Pax was acceptable. But I would submit that we have carried on admirably since then, and those in this audience who still revere The Writings as deeply as you do, demonstrate that the spirit of the guides is still strong and viable. Perhaps the Creator now wants us to act for ourselves and progress to the best of our abilities without His direct guidance. Miss Peto, we didn’t need a guide or the Creator to discover how to turn flax to linen, or discover silk.
“But, perhaps,” he said with a growing smile that warmed his features and began to warm the audience as well, much to Mahrree’s disappointment, “the Creator did influence that woman to do her wash under the mulberry bushes so that the silk cocoons would fall into her hot water and make such an absurd but useful mess. And it wasn’t because of the guides that men discovered ways to combine different soils, gravel, and water to create mortar to hold rock together. Our ancestors discovered that themselves. They also learned how to turn the pines north of Quake and to the west of Trades into pulp and thin paper, allowing us to print far more books than if we had only costly parchment. We did all that!
“Miss Peto,” he continued earnestly, “I believe the Creator gave us minds and choices so that we could become creators ourselves. He wants us to experiment, try, fail, and try again until we succeed. That’s progress, Miss Peto, and I submit that the Creator is pleased with us when we experiment. In that light, the Creator is pleased with the Administrators when they experiment. These changes in education? Just experiments to see if we can progress to something even greater.”
Mahrree couldn’t do anything while the crowd whole-heartedly applauded the captain, except plot against him. In one little speech the captain, who was now smiling in triumph to the villagers, had taken her accusation of dismissing the death of the last guide to suggesting that the Creator would be pleased with the Administrators. She hadn’t anticipated he could twist the argument so quickly.
She’d just have to twist it back.
“Captain Shin,” she started loudly, “what year is this?”
The audience immediately silenced at the obvious question.
The captain blinked. “It’s 319.”
“What year is it in Idumea?”
Now he squinted. “Still 319. Has been for the last six days.”
“But it will instead be 313, if some professors at the University of Idumea have their way. Correct?”
The amphitheater waited silently.
The captain swallowed. “Perhaps.”
The members of the audience looked at each other in surprise. No one had heard this before, but Mahrree had, from another teacher she knew from her university days in Mountseen.
“You see,” Mahrree turned to the villagers, “a few professors, one of them a brother to the Administrator of Culture, believe that our history should begin with the foundation of Idumea, and that the six years preceding that, when the first five hundred families were under the tutelage of the Creator for three years, then under the go vernance of His chosen Guide Hieram, be eliminated from our
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