Jelemi and Samas ate in silence, with the occasional grunt or gesture that one associates with people who have been living together for a very long time and feel little need for spoken communication. Kaspar used the time to gather his thoughts and reflect on what he had been told in the Hall of the Dead.
At the end of the meal, Samas cleared away the platters and cups, and Jelemi looked at Kaspar. The old man had piercing blue eyes and despite his feeble appearance and somewhat distracted speech, Kaspar was sure that his mind was neither feeble nor distracted, but a pose to put people off guard.
'I promised you some conversation before you depart tomorrow. So, what would you like to talk about?'
Kaspar said, 'I think it would serve us both if I told you a story.' Kaspar began with his exile, not embellishing his part or diminishing his faults, just telling the two men how he had come to fall to such low estate. He then recounted his encounter with Flynn, Kenner and McGoin, and their travels.
While he spoke the candle burned down. When he had finished, Jelemi asked some questions, drawing out details Kaspar had missed or glossed over.
Kaspar knew it was past midnight by the end, yet he felt no need to sleep, so anxious he was to make some sense out of the insanity in which he was trapped. After a long silence, he asked, 'Can you tell me what that armor is?'
'No,' said Jelemi. 'I can only tell you it is ancient, and evil, and cursed.'
'Can you do something about the curse?'
'No. That would take the power of the gods.'
'Well, then,' said Kaspar, 'can you intercede with the gods on my behalf?'
Samas said, 'You need to go to a temple to ask for intercession.'
Kaspar let his frustration show. 'It was a temple that sent me here!'
Jelemi stood up. 'The hour is late and you're tired. We can talk more over the morning meal.'
'I will show you to your room.' Samas said.
Kaspar followed the short monk through the main hall, which seemed devoid of furnishings, to a flight of stone steps at the rear. 'Once,' said Samas, 'there were more than a thousand Keepers in the bastion. Now there are only three of us.'
'Three? I've only seen two.'
'Keeper Andani is down at Ispar-by-the-Sea, shopping for some things we need.'
'That's . . . what? Three, four hundred miles from here?'
Samas nodded. 'We go every five or so years, whether we need anything vital or not; we grow most of what we need here. We take turns. If we don't get away from the Bastion every once in a while, it can get tedious. I will go next.'
'How long have you served here?'
Samas stopped to a door and said, 'You may sleep here.' He paused as if calculating. 'I've been in the Bastion for four hundred and thirty-two years next Midsummer's Day.'
Stunned, Kaspar said, 'You don't look your age.'
Samas laughed. 'There are benefits to serving the gods.' Then his tone grew somber. 'But I think we need to recruit some new members. We asked the gods about this and are waiting for an answer.'
'How long have you been waiting?'
'Not very long,' said Samas. 'Only twenty-seven years.'
Kaspar said good night and entered the room, or rather, a monk's cell. There was a sleeping mat, an oil-lamp, flint and steel to light it, a coarse blanket, and a bowl and pitcher full of fresh water. A metal cup sat in the bowl.
Kaspar didn't know if he could sleep, so anxious he was to get his questions answered before he was asked to depart in the morning, but as soon as his head was on the mat, he fell asleep.
At dawn, Kaspar awoke. He found a tub at the end of the hall with enough water in which to bathe. He wished he had the means to wash his clothing, but decided that he'd rather be quickly dirty again than trudging down the mountain with the armor strapped to his back in wet garments.
In the kitchen, he found the two Keepers waiting for him. Jelemi beckoned him to sit down. He found a generous portion of hot oatmeal in a bowl, freshly baked bread, honey, cheese and tea. He fell to with a nod of approval.
As Kaspar ate, Jelemi said, 'We have considered your story and are at a loss as to why the good Father Elect of the Temple of Kalkin sent you to us. We have little knowledge that is not available to him.'
'I have considered that there may be no reason more profound than that he wished his problem to become someone else's problem,' observed Kaspar.
Jelemi and Samas exchanged startled looks, then started to laugh. 'You know,' said Samas, 'we never considered that. It's a little too obvious, I think.'
Kaspar nodded. 'Often people overlook the obvious, I have found.'
'Well, we hate to send you away with no help whatsoever,' said Jelemi. 'Why don't you stay an additional day and we'll think if there's anything we may have missed.'
'That's welcome news. I thank you,' said Kaspar. 'I was just wishing earlier for the opportunity to wash my garments.'
'We can accommodate you in that,' said Samas. 'When you've finished eating, find me in the garden and I'll show you were you can do your laundry.'
The two Keepers rose from the table, leaving Kaspar alone. He helped himself to a second helping of oatmeal and cheese, and sat quietly, contented to have a day to rest after so many days of struggle.
Kaspar appeared at the table in the kitchen in time for supper. He felt rejuvenated. He had washed his clothing, though he felt awkward standing around naked waiting for the clothing to dry next to the fire. And then he had eaten a midday meal and taken a long nap. He knew tonight would be his last opportunity to get any information from the two Keepers, so he had spent the afternoon framing questions for them.
Striking up a conversational tone, Kaspar asked, 'Would you tell me how your order came to be?'
Jelemi motioned to Samas and said, 'He's a bit more of an historian than I am.'
Samas said, 'Little is known of the time before the Chaos Wars. It is said that man came from another world, through great rends in the sky. What is known is that an ancient race lived here before us.'
'The Dragon Lords?' asked Kaspar.
'That is what men call them. They are known as the Ancient Ones by other races.'
'We thought that perhaps the armor had something to do with them.'
'It does, but not in the way you think,' answered Samas.
Jelemi threw Samas a look that suggested to Kaspar that he had stumbled onto something they didn't want him to know about. 'If it's not of the Dragon Lords, is it . . . booty or a trophy of some kind?'
Jelemi sat back with a sigh. 'More of a reminder, I'll wager.'
'You've discovered something about it since we last spoke?'
Samas nodded. 'We have searched the archives and I must confess that I found the entire thing intriguing. It was not of this world, and the claim by the monk that it was somehow "wrong" awoke a vague recollection. I read on and I think I know what he was talking about.'
Jelemi again shot him a warning look, and Samas said, 'Why don't we just tell him? He's probably going to be dead before he can say anything to anyone who may cause us trouble.'
Jelemi stood up and in a scolding tone said, 'Very well, but if someone has to explain to the gods why this man learned their secrets, it won't be me!' He nodded to Kaspar. 'You two have a nice chat. I'm going to tend the chickens.'
'What is it that Jelemi doesn't want you to say?' Kaspar asked.
'You said you were a noble, so how grounded are you in theology?'
Kaspar shrugged. 'As much as the next layman, I suppose. I do my duty at the temples.'
'But you don't believe?'
'I've seen and heard and read too much not to believe in the gods, Samas. But it is difficult at times to believe they are overly concerned with my choices in life.'
'In the main, you are correct. The only issue of your life that matters is how you live it, and that is between you and Lims-Kragma. She will judge you and decide where upon the Wheel you return.' He chuckled. 'She's the only god that all men meet, eventually.' He sto
od up. 'Help me clear away these dishes.'
Kaspar took the plates while Samas took the cutlery and cups. They moved to a wooden sink in which rested a bucket of soapy water. Samas said, 'Scrape off the scraps into that bucket at your feet, please. We feed them to the chickens and pigs.'
'You have pigs?'
'Oh, we have quite a nice little farm on the other side of the garden,' said Samas as he started cleaning cups, first washing them in the soapy water, the dunking them in a bucket of clear water. 'It's a little bit of a walk down the hillside, on a nice plateau. We could feed many more Keepers if we needed to. In any event, what you should know is that what is taught in the temples to the laity is but a small part of the truth about the gods. What the temples know, in turn, is also only a part of that truth, though a larger part than what they teach. And what we, the Keepers know, is more than the temples, though they would chafe to hear such.'
'But what we know is only a small part again. Some theologians argue that even the gods' knowledge is limited, and there is only one being who knows all, a Great Mind, or godhead, a being so vast and all-knowing that our attempts even to understand its nature are pathetic attempts at abstraction.'
'It is said that men created the gods, too. That the gods fulfill our expectations of them, which is why we need so many. It's difficult to conceive of a single being who can take responsibility for everything in this universe and the other universes we know of. So, man created gods for every conceivable function. I do not know if this is true, but I do know that each god does have a role.'
'Above the lesser gods existed seven greater gods.'
'I thought there were only five greater gods,' said Kaspar.
'There are, now. But before the Chaos Wars there were seven. One died during the Chaos Wars—Arch-Indar, the Goddess of Good. This caused a tremendous imbalance, for there was no agent to counteract the God of Evil. His name is never mentioned, for even to think it is to draw his attention to you and make you his minion.'
'I can see that would pose a problem,' said Kaspar, in a tone that suggested he didn't entirely believe what he was hearing. The Chaos Wars, to most scholars, was a creation legend, a mere story to explain how the world came to be the way it was.
Samas smiled. 'I can see you don't believe me, but that doesn't matter. I'm not about to tell you his name.' He winked. 'Because I don't know it. Most theologians call him "the Nameless One".'
Kaspar grinned. 'There was a time in my life when I would have openly scoffed at all this, but what I have gone through these last few years . . .' He shook his head. 'I will try to be open-minded.'
'To understand what a catastrophe this was, you have to understand something about the way the universe works. Nothing is destroyed. Can you understand that?'
Kaspar said, 'But I've seen things destroyed.'
'You've seen things transformed.' Samas pointed to the woodbin. 'If I take a piece of wood and put it in the hearth, what happens?'
'It burns.'
'Would you say it was destroyed?'
'Yes,' said Kaspar.
'But it's not, you see. It becomes heat, and light, and smoke, and ash. When a man dies, the body becomes corrupt, and like everything else in nature, it is part of a cycle. We bury bodies or we burn them, but it doesn't matter if the body feeds worms or turns to ash, it is transformed, not destroyed.'
'But the mind and spirit, they live on. The spirit we know goes to be weighed, and if worthy returns to a better place on the Wheel of Life. If less worthy, a lesser place. But what of the mind?'
Kaspar admitted to himself that he was now intrigued. 'What of the mind?'
'That goes to the gods, you see. What you've experienced, what you've learned, is the entirety of universal understanding—every living being returns consciousness to the gods. And they in turn evolve.'
'I think I understand.'
'Good. Some time between the creation of the universe and the Chaos Wars something went terribly wrong. The Nameless One is the most likely culprit, but we do not know for certain. Even the living gods do not know. But at a critical time, when the universe was changing, a war erupted in heaven.'
'The lesser gods rose against the greater gods, and with them rose the Dragon Lords to challenge both lesser and greater gods. The Dragon Lords were cast out of this universe, and left to wander in an alien dimension until the Riftwar.'
'Really?'
'That was what that was all about. You didn't think it was something as petty as the Tsurani wanting to conquer a metal-rich world, did you?'
'I thought it had to do with Tsurani politics back on Kelewan.'
Samas smiled as he dried off his hands. He motioned for Kaspar to return to the kitchen table. 'You are an educated man, I see. No, whatever the invaders thought, it was the Nameless One behind the attack. You see, evil profits from extreme chaos or extreme order. Good profits from a balance between the two. With total order, there is no growth. With total chaos, everyone and everything is constantly at risk. In the end, you will discover that by its nature, evil is insanity.'
'I'm not sure what you mean.'
Samas looked at Kaspar as a tutor would a truculent child. 'Surely, I don't need to explain this to you?'
Kaspar said, 'I am truly not sure.'
'Have you ever wronged a man . . . just to do him harm? Or have you always had a reason?'
Kaspar answered quickly. 'There was always a reason.'
'There you have it,' said Samas as he sat down. He motioned for Kaspar to fetch over a cup of water for him. 'You would never look at yourself as "evil" no matter what the other fellow thought of what you did. It's in our nature. And that's the great secret of evil. It is never viewed as evil by those who perpetrate the evil.'
Kaspar handed him the water cup and sat down. 'Well, I have done things that I now question.'
'So you've grown wiser with age. But at the time, the choices you made seemed reasonable.' Samas held up his hand to cut off any debate. 'Even if you thought they were questionable choices at the time, I'm sure you justified them as being necessary, "the ends justifying the means". Am I right?'
Kaspar nodded ruefully.
'If every choice was weighed independently on a moral basis—that is to say, without claiming justification like justice, revenge, or necessary ruthlessness—then far less evil would be done in the world. Every faith in every temple has one creed in common, in one form or another: "Do as you would have be done to".'
Kaspar sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. 'I think I understand.'
'Good, because if you do, then you can see that the only explanation for evil beyond the justifications men make is that it is insane. It is destructive and it lends itself to nothing useful. In short, it is madness.'
'Keep going.'
'You need a serious grasp of this concept before I can tell you the rest of what you need to know prior to your leaving.' Samas cleared his throat and took another drink of water. 'Evil is wasteful. It consumes, but it never creates.'
'So, by its very nature the Nameless One must be insane?'
'Yes!' said Samas, slapping his palm on the table. 'You do understand. The Nameless One has no more ability to be sane than a chicken can play a horn.' Kaspar looked bemused by that example, and Samas pointed to his mouth. 'No lips. You can teach a chicken all you want, but it'll never learn.'
Kaspar found this amusing. 'Very well, I'll embrace the notion that evil is insanity.'
'Good, because then you'll understand what came next. When Arch-Indar died, the other Greater Gods—fearing that the Nameless One would be unopposed and there would be no balance—did something that has happened only this one time; they cooperated. The remaining Greater Gods, even the Abstainer, used their combined power to banish the Nameless One to another realm.'
'So that left five Greater Gods?'
'Yes, though it may as well be four. Helbinor, the Abstainer . . . well, he doesn't do anything. He abstains.' Samas shrugged. 'It's one of those things
that can drive a theologian to drink.'
'If they were combining their power, why didn't they just destroy the Nameless One?'
Samas grinned. 'Because nothing can be destroyed, do you see?'
Kaspar blinked. 'Like the firewood. Yes, they could only . . . change him.'
'And not very much, really. They couldn't change his nature, but they could change his location. So they found another realm, a dimension outside this one, and they found a world, one so vast that our world would be but a pebble on its beach. And there they bound him, and buried him deep within the heart of the greatest mountain on that planet. And there he resides today.'
'So if he's in this other realm, why is he a problem?'
'I'll spare you the theology, but remember how I said if you knew his name, he could control you?'
Kaspar nodded.
'That's how powerful he is. Think of the Greater Gods as . . . controllers, forces of nature, if you will; not nature such as the wind and rain, but rather the essence of how the universe is put together—good, evil, the balance, the builder, the worker-from-within, the granter-of wishes, and the abstainer. The world of the physical and the mystical—all things are governed by these controllers.'
'All right,' said Kaspar. 'Now, what does this have to do with the relic I carried up here?'
'We don't know. What we suspect is that it is from a different plane.'
'Again, I don't understand,' said Kaspar, looking confused.
'You've no doubt heard the expression, "damn him to the seven lower hells!"'
Kaspar nodded.
'Well, there are not really seven levels of hell or seven levels of heaven. Or rather, they're the same thing. The gods reside in the first level, we in the second. Or some maintain they are the same, but two sub-levels.'
'Wait a minute,' said Kaspar. 'I'm lost.'
'Ever peel an onion?' Samas asked.
'No, but I've eaten many,' said Kaspar.
'Then you know that that they are made up of many layers. Consider the universe as an onion, but made up of only seven layers. That's a bit arbitrary, but it's the agreed-upon number. In any event, assume we live on the highest level, save for the gods. At the lowest are beings so alien to us we cannot even imagine them. In between are beings that range from totally alien creatures to those which are similar to us.'
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