Project Pope by Clifford D. Simak Read Free Book Online

You’d have to use a glass to see the beauty of the shaping.
    â€”Small for me. Yes, of course, you’re right. Small for me. How about yourself?
    â€”To me, Decker, size is relative. Almost meaningless.
    â€”We’ll hang on to the ruby, said Decker. I have more than enough to hand over to the captain.
    He no longer could see Whisperer. The small glitter of diamond dust was gone. Perhaps, he thought, it was not because of anything Whisperer had done. Rather, it was due to a subtle shift of light values in the cabin. He knew Whisperer still was in the cabin, for he sensed him. And what was it that he sensed? What was Whisperer, what kind of thing was he? He was here in the cabin, of course, but where else might he be? How large was he? How small? A tiny mote dancing in the firelight or an essence that spanned the universe?
    An incorporeal being, not always invisible, but incorporeal, a drifting next-to-nothingness, perhaps, that was linked to this planet, or perhaps only to a sector of the planet. Thinking of that, Decker was certain, however, that the linkage was at Whisperer’s discretion. For some reason, he wanted to be here. More than likely there was nothing to prevent him from going wherever he might wish—to exist in the upper atmosphere, or beyond the atmosphere, in space; to domicile inside a glowing star; to sink into the granite of a planet’s crust. All space, and all conditions of space, must be the natural range of Whisperer. Or could it be, Decker asked himself, that the Whisperer he knew was only one small facet of a more encompassing Whisperer? Could the total Whisperer be a huge, sprawling presence that existed in all of space, and possibly in all of time as well, a true creature of the universe?
    More than likely, he told himself, he would never know, or knowing, would not understand. Which probably was at least one of the reasons he had never asked. Why ask for information that was beyond his understanding, unresolved information that would plague him all his days, that would rouse him, sweating, from his sleep in the dead of night, that would never let him be, that would set him apart, an alien creature, from the universe?
    Whisperer spoke to him again.
    â€”There is tragedy in the forest, he said. Three members of Vatican are dead.
    â€”In the woods? You must be mistaken, Whisperer. Vatican people don’t venture into the woods. They stay close to home.
    â€”These ones were hunting the Old One of the Woods.
    â€”No one in their right mind would hunt the Old One. In the woods, it is well to pray most earnestly the Old One does not come hunting you.
    â€”One of these was new to Vatican. He was full of arrogance. He had a powerful weapon that he thought was a match for anything. It was not a match for anything.
    â€”And they found an Old One.
    â€”No. The Old One found them. He knew they were hunting him.
    â€”And now they’re dead. All three are dead?
    â€”Yes. Dead most horribly.
    â€”When did this happen?
    â€”Short hours ago. Vatican does not know as yet.
    â€”Perhaps we should notify Vatican.
    â€”Why? asked Whisperer. There is nothing can be done. In time, when they are gone overlong, others will set out to seek them and will bring them home.
    â€”But the Old One will be there and waiting.
    â€”Perhaps, said Whisperer, but he will not harm the seekers. They’ll not be hunting him.
    â€”He kills only those who hunt him?
    â€”Yes. Did not you know that? You’ve tramped the woods for years.
    â€”I’ve been lucky. I’ve never seen an Old One. I have never had to face one.
    â€”Old Ones have seen you, said Whisperer. Many, many times. They do not bother you because you do not bother them.
    â€”To bother them, said Decker, is the last thing I would do.
    â€”You carry a weapon. What you call a rifle.
    â€”That’s right. I very seldom use it. Occasionally to get some meat to put into the pot.
    â€”And not often