"Martin H. Greenberg & Mark Tier - Give Me Liberty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenberg Martin H)

came to court the daughters of fire, and many of them defied tradition and settled in the village of their
wives.
O'Brien had enjoyed a good life. He knew he had lived far beyond the years that would have been his in
the crazed rush of a civilized land. But he was dying, and the great dream that had grown until it shaped
his life among these people was beyond his reach.
He jerked erect, shook his fist at the sky, and shouted hoarsely in a long-unused language. "What are
you waiting for? What are you waiting for?"
***
As soon as O'Brien appeared on the beach, a dozen boys came splashing towards him. "Langri!" they
shouted. "Langri!"
They leaped about him excitedly, holding up fish for his approval, waving their spears, laughing and
shouting. O'Brien pointed up the beach, where a large dugout canoe was drawn up on the sand.
"To the Elder," he said.
"Ho! To the Elder! Ho! To the Elder!"


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 Give Me Liberty

They raced ahead of him, scrambling furiously for places because the canoe would not hold them all.
O'Brien waded into the melee, restored order, and told off the six he wanted for paddlers. The others
raced into the surf after the canoe, swimming around and under it until the paddlers got up speed.
The boys shouted a song as they dipped their paddlesтАФa serious song, for this was serious business. The
Langri wished to see the Elder, and it was their solemn duty to make haste.
O'Brien leaned back wearily and watched the foam dancing under the outriggers. He had little taste for
traveling, now that his years were relentlessly overtaking him. It was pleasant to lounge in his hammock
with a gourd of fermented fruit juice, acting the part of a venerable oracle, respected, even worshipped.
When he was younger he had roamed the length and breadth of this world. He had even built a small
sailing boat and sailed completely around it, with the only tangible result being the discovery of a few
unlikely islands. He had trekked tirelessly about the lone continent, mapping it and speculating on its
resources.
He knew that he was a simple man, a man of action. The natives' awe of his supposedly profound
wisdom alarmed and embarrassed him. He found himself called upon to settle complex sociological and
economic problems, and because he had seen many civilizations and remembered something of what he
had seen, he achieved a commendable success and enjoyed it not at all.
But O'Brien knew that the sure finger of doom was pointing directly at this planet and its people, and he
had pondered, and debated with himself on long walks along the sea, and paced his hut through the
hours of misty night while he devised stratagems, and finally he was satisfied. He was the one man in
the far-flung cosmos who could possibly save this world that he loved, and these people he loved, and he
was ready to do it. He could do it, if he lived.
And he was dying.
***
The afternoon waned and evening came on. Fatigue touched the boys' faces and the singing became
strained, but they worked on tirelessly, keeping their rhythm. Miles of coast drifted by, and scores of
villages, where people recognized the Langri and crowded the shore to wave.
Dusk was hazing the distant sea and purpling the land when they made the turn into a shallow bay and
rode the surf up onto a wide, sloping beach studded with canoes. The boys leaped up and heaved the
canoe far up onto the beach. They slumped to the sand in exhaustion, and bounced up a moment later,
beaming with pride. They would be guests of honor, tonight, at any hut in the village they chose to visit.
Had they not brought the Langri?