Chosen Ones by Alister E. McGrath Page A

evaluating him. “You are most welcome,” he said careful y. “Can I—ahem! Can I be of help to you in any way?”
    “Wel , I had hoped to learn something of the history of this island. It might help me understand it better.” Peter squared his shoulders and tried to look tal er. “For diplomatic purposes, of course.”
    “Of course.” The librarian stood—he real y wasn’t much tal er standing than sitting—and moved out from behind the desk. “There is a reading desk over here with a wonderful view over the island.
    Nobody wil bother you there. Would you like me to bring you any books? Or would you prefer to look for some yourself?”
    “Oh, I’d be delighted if you brought me anything that might be helpful.” Peter folded his hands behind his back and tried to look important as he waited.
    After a moment the librarian reappeared, a worn leather tome in his hand. He handed it to Peter with a smile that he couldn’t quite interpret and returned to his annotating.

    Peter went to a desk and settled in to read.
    The book told a simple story. Aedyn had original y been a wild, untamed island, ruled by a backward and oppressive king. And then came the revolution.
    It was cal ed the Il umination. The island had been taken over by a smal but determined group of people—determined and highly intel igent. Their rebel ion against the feudalism and backward ways of previous generations was led by three lords—the Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf—who had established themselves as the enlightened rulers of the island. The old king had been deposed, and later died in exile. Some of the population remained loyal to the old ways and were al owed to remain on the island only on condition of serving the new rulers. But the island, ruled by the same great lords for five hundred years—five hundred years! Was that possible?—had overcome its barbaric beginnings and was now prosperous and forward-looking.
    Peter smiled to himself as he read, not hearing the footsteps as they approached—not sensing anyone beside him until a cold hand came down and gripped his shoulder.
    “Some light reading, I see!” said a voice. Peter whipped around to see Anaximader right standing behind him.
    “Oh—yes,” said Peter. “Just some—yes, I was wondering about Aedyn, and…” he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to sound important. “And its history, culture, chief exports and trade—you know the sort of thing.”

    “A good choice,” replied Anaximander, taking the book from Peter and turning it over in his hands.
    He flipped through a few of the yel owed pages, looking contemplative. “An important book—an important history for the citizens of Aedyn to keep always in their minds.” He trailed off, then looked back up at Peter. “That’s what education is about, after al ! Protecting ourselves from delusions, preventing
    innocent
    minds
    from
    becoming
    corrupted.”
    “I was reading about the Il umination,” said Peter. “Don’t—I mean, do the people stil have these delusions in Aedyn?”
    “I regret that they do,” said Anaximander slowly.
    “The slaves—you’ve seen them—are very backward.
    They believe in al sorts of superstitious nonsense.”
    “Such as?”
    “Magic,” Anaximander said. “Divine magic. And old, old stories—just fairy tales, real y. Stories to explain things they couldn’t understand.” This al made a great deal of sense to Peter. It was like Julia, tel ing herself stories and turning to her books whenever she was confused or upset. He nodded. “You’re a people of science,” he said.
    Anaximander granted him a smile.
    “We are. And it is for that reason that I come to you.” Anaximander pul ed over a chair and sat to face Peter. “The lords were most impressed by the invention that you showed them yesterday. The lords said you had a devil in your hand—something you cal ed gunpowder. Did you make it yourself?” His eyes were inquisitive.

    “I did.” Peter got