"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 06 - The White Order" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

"How did you spy that glass?"
"I saw its reflection on the side of the toolshed. I had to look. I just looked."
"Aye, and that was because yer aunt was there afore you could do more, I'd wager, young
fellow."
Cerryl remained silent.
"You men, even young. Syodor ... even he ..." Nail broke off the words abruptly and looked at
Cerryl. "No sense in that. What be done be done." She pointed to the stool by her kitchen table.
"Well, leastwise you can help. You're careful enough with the roots."
Cerryl climbed onto the stool and looked at the handful of bedraggled golden turnips. His eyes
flicked to the open shutters of the single window and the other tailing piles, then back to the
turnips.


II

All life composes itself of chaos and order. Yet too many forget that without chaos there is no
life. Far within the earth, chaos abides, giving warmth and life to the depths beneath the lands
and oceans.
The very light of the sun is white chaos, and it, too, brings life. Within the very sunlight
are all the colors of white, the pure chaos from which springs all life ...
The sun can be seen but by solely its own light, and thus all that is under the sun can only be
because of the chaos of the sun. Even the wisest of mages cannot perceive any portion of all that
exists on and under the earth itself except through the operation of chaos.
To claim that order is the staff of life, as some acolytes have done since the ancient heretic
Nylan, is not only false but folly, for the sole perfect order in life is death.
Even a blade or a shield must be forged through the heat of chaos and wielded by a man whose
very lifeblood is heated by chaos.
Chaos is the foundation of power and strength. Mastering chaos is the first step in controlling
power. Power is the foundation of all lands and towns that would prosper, and those who would have
their homelands free of invaders and devastation must then seek the mastery of chaos...


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Colors of White
(Manual of the Guild at Fairhaven)
Preface


III

In the corner where the hearth fire spilled light onto the floor, Cerryl looked at the book, eyes
straining at the incomprehensible black symbols on the aged tan page. He turned the page. The
symbols on the next page looked the same.
"Cerryl?" Nail continued to place the rolled-out biscuits in the battered tin baking pan on the
table at her left.
"Yes, Aunt?" He did not turn, fearing she might see the book, afraid she might see the tears of
frustration in his eyes.
"Your uncle be a-coming up the south path soon. Would you be fetching another pail of water?"