Throy Read Online Free PDF

showed no interest in the discussion. She seemed to feel that commitment in either direction was gauche, and simply too ridiculous to be taken seriously. Tradence could not comprehend Sunje’s detachment. “Have you no sense of responsibility?”
    Sunje gave a languid shrug. “One muddle is more or less equivalent to another muddle. It takes a keener brain than mine to puzzle out the differences.”
    Tradence said primly: “But if society organizes itself into groups like the LPF, and everyone sorts out just a small piece of the muddle, and sets it right, then when it’s all assembled, the confusion is mended, and civilization wins another victory!”
    “Lovely!” said Tancred. “Except the LPF has busied itself with the wrong muddle, and when the pieces that needed fixing were distributed, the person in charge forgot to number them and so when it came time to fit things together, there was more confusion than ever, and even some pieces left over.”
    “That is sheer nonsense,” sniffed Tradence, “and it has nothing to do with Sunje’s lack of dedication.”
    Tancred said: “l suspect that her guiding principle is simple modesty. She will not assert her views since she knows at any instant some sudden insight might force her to change her entire philosophy. Am I correct, Sunje?”
    “Absolutely. I am modest, but not dogmatically so.”
    “Bravo, Sunje!”
    Ivar said: “The mad poet Navarth, like Sunje, was noted for his humility. He thought himself to be one with Nature and conceived his poetry to be a natural force.”
    “I feel much the same,” said Sunje.
    “Navarth was very intense and passionate and - in some respects - curiously innocent. When he wished to compose a great masterpiece, he often climbed a mountain and worked his genius upon the sky, using clouds for his calligraphic medium. When the clouds flew away, Navarth would only say that the glory of his art lay in its creation, not in its durability.”
    “I don’t understand this at all,” said Tradence, rather crossly. “How could such a silly old fool control the clouds?”
    “That is unknown,” said Tancred, who deeply admired the mad poet, in all his phases and aspects. “Some of his best work dates from this period, so his methods are irrelevant, don’t you think?”
    “I think that you are as mad as Navarth.”
    Wayness said: “As I recall, he fell off a cliff while chasing a goat and barely survived.”
    “Silly old thing,” said Alyx-Marie. “What would he want with a goat?”
    “Who knows?” said Tancred carelessly. “It’s just another of the many Navarth mysteries.”
    Ivar looked at the clock. “Still another ten minutes. Wayness knows what is going on, but she won’t tell.”
    Alyx-Marie asked Wayness: “Don’t you ever get homesick for Stroma?”
    “Not really. I’ve been drawn into the work of the Conservancy, and there hasn’t been much time for anything else.”
    Ivar uttered a condescending laugh. “You embrace Conservancy as if it were a religion!”
    “No,” said Wayness. ‘Not religion. What I feel is love. Cadwal is wild and open and beautiful, and I couldn’t bear to see it disfigured.”
    “There is more to life than Conservancy,” stated Lanice, somewhat sententiously.
    “I’ve never bothered to conserve anything,” said Sunje in her most indolent drawl. “And after it went I never missed it.”
    “I’ll say this much,” declared Ivar grandly, “there’s nothing wrong with Cadwal that a little civilization couldn’t fix. Two or three big cities with some decent restaurants, a casino or two, and - for me personally - a twenty room mansion on Lake Eljian with hot and cold running maidens surrounded by about two thousand acres of gardens and orchards and fences to keep out the banjees and yarlaps, not to mention the tourists.”
    “Ivar!” cried Alyx-Marie. “Your remarks are really repugnant!”
    “I don’t see why. They’re at least candid.”
    “If you say so. The truth