"Limits (stories)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

We are the creators. A writer accepts what limits he chooses, and no others. Often enough, it's the limits that make the story.

And we know it. In historical fiction the author may torture probability and even move dates around if it moves his main character into the most interesting event-points; but he would prefer not to, because events form the limits he has chosen. In fantasy he makes the rules, and is bound only by internal consistency. In science fiction he accepts limits set by the universe; and these are the most stringent of all; but only if he so chooses.

One penalty for so choosing is this: the readers may catch him in mistakes. I've been caught repeatedly. It's part of the game, and I'm willing to risk it.

I've also been known to give up a law or two for the sake of a story. I've broken the lightspeed barrier to move my characters about. I gave up conservation of rotation for a series of tales on teleportation.

You'll find fantasy here too; but observe how the stories are shaped by the limits I've set. Most of my stories have puzzles in them, and puzzles require rules. I seem to be happiest with science fiction, "the literature of the possible," where an army of scientists is busily defining my rules for me.

*Other tales in the Draco Tavern series may be found in my Convergent Series, published by Del Rey Books in 1979.

What have we here?

Long stories, short stories, very short stories, new and old. Collaborations. Science fiction and fantasy and economic theory.

Have fun.

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THE LION IN HIS ATTIC
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Before the quake it had been called Castle Minterl; but few outside Minterl remembered that. Small events drown in large ones. Atlantis itself, an entire continent, had drowned in the tectonic event that sank this small peninsula.

For seventy years the seat of govermnent had been at Beesh, and that place was called Castle Minter!. Outsiders called this drowned place Nihilil's Castle, for its last lord, if they remembered at all. Three and a fraction stories of what had been the south tower still stood above the waves. They bore a third name now: Rordray's Attic.

The sea was choppy today. Durily squinted against bright sunlight glinting off waves. Nothing of Nihilil's Castle showed beneath the froth.

The lovely golden-haired woman ceased peering over the side of the boat. She lifted her eyes to watch the south tower come toward them. She murmured into Karskon's ear, "And that's all that's left."

Thone was Out of earshot, busy lowering the sails; but he might glance back. The boy was not likely to have seen a lovelier woman in his life; and as far as Thone was concerned, his passengers were seeing this place for the first time. Karskon turned to look at Durily, and was relieved. She looked interested, eager, even charmed.

But she sounded shaken. "It's all gone! Tapestries and banquet hail and bedrooms and the big ballroom . . . the gardens . . all down there with the fishes, and not even merpeop!e to enjoy them . . . that little knob of rock must have been Crown Hill . . . Oh, Karskon, I wish you could have seen it." She shuddered, though her face still wore the mask of eager interest. "Maybe the riding-birds survived. Nihilil kept them on the roof."

"You couldn't have been more than . . ten? How can you remember so much?"

A shrug. "After the Torovan invasion, after we had to get out Mother talked incessantly about palace life. I think she got lost in the past. I don't blame her much, considering what the present was like. What she told me and what I saw myself, it's all a little mixed up after so long. I saw the travelling eye, though."

"How did that happen?"

"Mother was there when a messenger passed it to the king. She snatched it out of his hand, playfully, you know, and admired it and showed it to me. Maybe she thought he'd give it to her. He got very angry, and he was trying not to show it, and that was even more frightening. We left the palace the next day. Twelve days before the quake."

Karskon asked, "What about the other-?" But warning pressure from her hand cut him off.

Thone had finished rolling up the sail. As the boat thumped against the stone wall he sprang upward, onto what had been a balcony, and moored the bow line fast. A girl in her teens came from within the tower to fasten the stern line for him. She was big as Thone was big: not yet fat, but hefty, rounded of feature. Thone's sister, Karskon thought, a year or two older.

Durily, seeing no easier way out of the boat, reached hands up to them. They heaved as she jumped. Karskon passed their luggage up, leaving the cargo for others to move, and joined them.

Thone made introduction. "Sir Karskon, Lady Durily, this is Estrayle, my sister. Estrayle, they'll be our guests for a month. I'll have to tell Father. We bring red meat in trade."