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.But given time, you will begin to feel that answer, and over the months, you will become more aware of it.” He clapped the outlaw on the shoulder.“Come now, clasp it back around your neck, and let us return to the others.”Culaehra fastened the amulet and rose to go with him.Halfway back to the camp he stopped abruptly, staring at Illbane.The sage nodded.“You have just discovered where the hunter came from, then?”“How did you make him?”“Just as I told you,” Illbane replied.“He is your spit and image.”Culaehra tried to remember when Illbane could have gathered up his spittle, but he had spat so often that he could not say.He resolved never to spit in the future.“Need I ask why?”“Do you?” Illbane returned.“To show me myself, so that I might be disgusted.”“Of course.” The sage laid a hand upon his shoulder.“But remember, Culaehra—I only showed you yourself as the world sees you.The rest you did yourself—both of you.”Even now it rocked him, but Culaehra found that he was no longer devastated to realize that he appeared to be so treacherous and self-serving, for he remembered that Illbane had told him there was a better man buried deep.As Culaehra went to sleep that night, he realized Illbane must have known about his murderous plan but did not hold it against him, had not even mentioned it to him.This, perhaps, was the most humbling realization of all—that the sage had known he would plot to slay him, given the chance.How could Illbane say that he had the soul of a hero?Illbane slowed the pace even more, taking whole days for lessons in fighting and magic, then telling them tales of the Ulin around the campfire.Finally, they began to be able to fight without thinking about their movements, more or less automatically.Illbane approved, explaining that their discipline had yielded spontaneity.That night, he told them once again that the Ulin were not gods, but only an older and more powerful race than their own.“Then who made the Ulin?” Yocote asked.Illbane smiled, glad the question had finally come.“The God who always was and always will be—the God of Dariad and his people.”Culaehra frowned.“What does he look like?”“No one knows,” Illbane told him.“He has no face or form, and is as likely to appear as flame or smoke as in human guise.In fact, He probably is neither male nor female, but more fundamental than either.”“You mean this god is an 'it'?” Culaehra's skepticism was clear—but Kitishane and Lua stared in amazement.Yocote, however, only frowned and nodded.“What else is known of this First God?”“That, and little more,” Illbane told him.“He created everything that exists from Himself; everything exists within Him.”“If He is neither male nor female, why do you call Him 'him'?” Kitishane asked.“Because I am a man, and it gives me the illusion that I can understand Him better if He, too, is male,” Illbane said frankly.“He has power over everything that exists.He helps those who need help and call upon Him, if the help will aid their souls in coming back to Him when they die.Those who displease Him will never come back to Him—”“And probably will not want to,” Culaehra said sourly.This talk of a supreme God was bothering him strangely.“He is the beginning and end of all life, and there is no lasting happiness except in Him,” Illbane concluded.Culaehra gave a short, ugly laugh.“I have known many who were happy enough.”“Then they lived in Him, and within His laws, whether they knew it or not,” Illbane said.“If so, He has very strange laws! I speak of men who robbed and cheated those weaker than themselves, and beat them into submission if they would not obey!”“If they were truly happy,” Illbane countered, “why would they have been constantly trying to gain more wealth and power?”Culaehra stared, taken aback.“Because they enjoyed the gaining as much as the having,” Yocote said slowly.Illbane nodded.“But if they constantly craved pleasure gained from outside themselves, there was no pleasure inside, no abiding feeling of joy that did not need constant replenishing from some outside source.”“Are you saying those who worship your Creator do not need constant replenishment?” Culaehra's skepticism neared the point of anger.“They do, but they gain it from Him,” Illbane told him.“They draw from a never-empty well, and their happiness is not only in the afterlife, but also in the present.”Lua and Kitishane gazed at him, their eyes wide and their faces thoughtful, but Culaehra said flatly, “I will not believe it!”“Will not,” Illbane noted.“Not can not.”“Will or can, what matter?” Culaehra was angry now.“You say the Ulin are not gods, but they can kill us at their whim, they can blast mountains into gravel, they can fight wars in the skies! Whether you call them supermen or subgods matters little— they are what they are, and if they are not gods, they are certainly so close as to make no difference! Gods' powers they have, so gods they are!”“They are dead,” Illbane said, “most of them.Only a few still live.”“So you say!” Culaehra jumped up, pointing at the sage.“You say they are—but no one ever saw the Ulin more than once in a lifetime, and most never saw them at all, so how would we know if they are dead or not? Myself, I will refuse to believe they are not gods, or are truly dead, either!”“I will, though.” Yocote still sat, eyes glowing.“I will believe they are only an older race, giants endowed with magical powers, created by the same Creator who made us, the younger races.”“You will believe this old wives' tale?” Culaehra spun to stare down at Yocote.“I will,” the gnome confirmed, “for magic makes so much more sense if all its power proceeds from a single Source.”“Only one?” Culaehra scowled.“What of evil magic, eh? What of necromancy, what of the raising of demons?”“Anything good can be twisted to a bad use by bad people,” the gnome replied, unruffled.“That does not change the fact that it was good at the outset.” He nodded.“Yes, that even makes it clear how such evil magic can be untwisted, can be defeated.”“And just incidentally will make your own magic stronger,” Culaehra accused—but he shivered inside at the thought.Especially because Yocote nodded placidly.“Any increase in understanding will make me a better shaman, yes.”“So you will believe Illbane,” Culaehra said in disgust and turned to the sage, his sarcasm heavy.“Is there anything you do not know?”“Too much,” Illbane told him, “far too much,” thus beginning the cry that would echo down the ages, and that scholars would repeat ever after.Northward they went, as the autumn grew colder and the altitude higher.At night Kitishane brought out her collection of animal pelts and showed the others how to stitch them into coats.Illbane told them that the people who lived in the northern countries attached hoods to their collars, much as southern people wore cowled robes.“The nights have not grown longer, Illbane,” Yocote pointed out.“How can that be? It is high autumn!”“Yes, but we are traveling northward,” Illbane told him.“The farther north you go, the longer the days—so as the autumn lengthens, the days do not.”It made no sense to Culaehra, but Yocote seemed to understand, nodding and smiling, pleased.The big man's hatred for the gnome had been receding, but this brought it back full-force
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