THE WORTHING SAGA by Orson Scott Card

Author:Orson Scott Card [Card, Orson Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1990-12-05T21:00:00+00:00

Lared woke in darkness, to find Jason kneeling beside his bed. “Justice told me the dream was over,” he said. “Your father calls to you.”

Lared got up and went down the stairs. Mother was bending over Father, holding a cup to his lips. Lared wanted water too but didn’t ask. Father’s eyes had caught him.

“Lared,” Father said. “I had a dream.”

“So did I,” said Lared.

“In my dream, I saw that you blamed yourself for this.” He raised his stump. “I dreamed that you thought I hated you. By Worthing I swear it isn’t so. There is no fault to this, I hold you blameless, you are still my son, you saved my life, forgive me if I said a thing to make you take the blame upon yourself.”

“Thank you,” Lared said. He went to his father and embraced him, and his father kissed him.

“Now sleep,” said Father. “I’m sorry that I had them wake you, but I couldn’t bear it if you went another hour with such feelings in your heart. By Jason, you’re the finest son a man could have.”

“Thank you,” Lared said. Then he started for his truckle bed, but Jason led him up the stairs instead. “Tonight you’ve earned a better bed than that miserable straw bed by the fire.”

“Have I?”

“You had the memory of Elijah Worthing in you, Lared. It’s not a pleasant dream to have.”

“Was it true? There was a drought like that in Stipock’s colony, and it ended with the sort of storm, and no one made it happen.”

“Does it matter? Elijah believed that he caused the drought and caused the storm. The rest of his life was shaped as if it were true—”

“But was it true?”

Jason pushed him gently down onto the bed and covered him with blankets. “Lared, I don’t know. It’s the memory of memory. Did all the people of Worthing die that way? Certainly there were no others in the world with my blue eyes, except those they could trace to Matthew and Elijah, but perhaps all the rest were hunted down and killed. As to the storm, there’s no one now who can control the weather. But Justice can do other things, things with fire and water, earth and air. Who’s to say that once there might not have been one man of all my children who could cause a drought like hell itself, and a storm like the end of the world. Certainly, there’s never been such hate as his. Never in all the memories I’ve seen has there been such hate.”

“Compared to him,” Lared whispered, “my hate for you is love.”

“And so it is,” said Jason. “Go to sleep.”

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