"Robert F. Young - Pithecanthropus Astralis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

The stars: were they, as the old ones said, lights that the Master of the
Mountain had strung up in the sky? Or were they something else? Blazer had
brushed them with his finger tips and had come dangerously close to the truth.

Robert F. Young


PITHECANTHROPUS
ASTRALIS
THE trees had been thinning out around Blazer for some time. He could see the cave-pocked face
of the cliff now, and the evening cook-fires burning along its base. The apron of cleared land that fronted
it was white with the season’s first snow; the dead leaves that had rustled beneath his feet yesterday
morning when he had set forth on his journey to the stars were no longer visible, and winter had followed
him home.
At last he left the trees behind and stepped into the open. His bleeding feet soiled the immaculate
whiteness of the clearing, just as they had soiled the immaculate whiteness of the forest floor. He did not
even notice. He had forgotten that he had feet—or legs or arms or hands. He had forgotten everything
except the stars—the stars that he had tried to reach despite the disapproval of the Master of the
Mountain; the stars whose light had brushed his finger-tips when he had tried to touch them, the while
laughing at him for believing them to be so close when they were so far away.
But he knew them now—if not for what they were, then at least for what they were not. Regardless
of what the Old Ones said, they were not lights that the Master of the Mountain had strung up in the sky
to illumine the way for his Mistress-mother the Moon. They were more—far more—than that. And the
world itself—that, too, was far more than Blazer had been led to believe. It was not confined to the
forested valley where the Tribe lived—far from it. It did not end at the foot of the mountain, as Blazer
had been told. It went on and on and on—perhaps forever.
A wind, faint but bitter cold, was blowing from the direction of the cliff. It brought with it the smell of
wood smoke and the aroma of roasted flesh. But even though Blazer had not eaten since yesterday, he
did not feel hungry—not in the usual sense of the word. But in another sense, he was terribly
hungry—hungry to impart his great discovery.
He would tell Councilman first —this was only fitting. And then Councilman would tell the rest of the
Tribe. Probably he would call all of them together and make a public announcement, detailing Blazer's
accomplishment and praising Blazer's courage. True, Blazer had gone contrary to the wishes of the
Master of the Mountain—had even defied him in a way. But Councilman was known for his
broadmindedness in such matters, and it was unlikely that he would disapprove of Blazer's apostasy. Had
he not said time and time again that each member of the Tribe should learn as much as possible about the
world he lived in, because the more he learned the longer he would probably live?
Blazer could make out figures squatting around the cook-fires now, and he could hear the
appreciative grunts of the People as they stuffed their bellies with half-cooked meat. He moved toward
the biggest fire—the one that burned before the entrance of the dwelling place of Councilman. He
obtained an inkling of how exhausted he was when he stumbled over a small stone and nearly fell. The
long journey to the mountain and the perilous ascent of its slopes had taken their toil. But Blazer had no
regrets. He had reached the stars, had he not? Or, if he had not quite reached them, he had come far
closer to them than any man before him.
He was about to step into the semi-circle of firelight fronting Councilman's cave when he found his
way barred by the hulking figure of Hunter, Councilman's oldest son. "What would you at Councilman's
fire, Blazer?"
Blazer tried to keep his voice steady, found that he could not. "I would speak with him," he said,
"about a matter of great interest."
"What matter? It had better be important. He is in conference with Lawmaker and Lawkeeper, and