“Because He created us,” Orick said. “Because He is the father of our spirits, and He wants us to be happy.”
“But I already am happy,” Tallea said, and almost as soon as she said it, she scrunched her nose, as if recognizing the depth of the lie. She was miserable, Orick knew.
She loved Orick. She loved him so much, she had given up her life, her humanity, to be with him, and now she feared that he would never love her in return. As a bear who was genetically enhanced to be something more than other female bears, Tallea was unique in the universe. If Orick did not return her love, she would end up alone. How, could she say she was happy? It wasn’t true, but the lie had come swiftly to her lips simply because she was so miserable. She couldn’t admit it even to herself.
Of course, she had lied because she knew what Orick was asking. He wanted her to embark on a dangerous journey, to discover God. She said angrily, “The truth is, I don’t want anything to do with your God. If he tells you that you can’t love me, that you can’t marry me no matter how much you love me, then I don’t give a damn whether he created me or not. You say he wants me to be happy: well, I know what I need to be happy!”
Orick frowned. He tried to speak, but only a mumble came out. Of course she would be angry with? But Orick also knew she was lying still. The truth was that if she discovered that God lived, she’d have to make some difficult changes in her life, and Orick knew that for many, it was easier to deny God’s existence than to change.
Orick didn’t know how to proceed, what to say next. Should he lie, say that if she discovered God, her life would be easy? The truth was it might be harder. God requires hard things of His disciples. Should he ask her not to be angry at God? What good would that do?
He half turned to leave, then stopped. “You say you don’t want to know Him, but you know me, and you love me. You had better figure out why you love me, because I tell you this: He shaped my heart and soul, as well as my body.”
He turned to leave, and though his words were as honest and as humble as any Orick could muster, he knew he’d left volumes unsaid. Perhaps he’d been wrong to come to Tallea without any thought or preparation.
“Ah, forgive me,” Orick said, not quite able to turn his back on her. “I don’t know how to say this. I’m making a mess of it.” He would have left then, but as he turned, Tallea must have recognized his frustration.
“I love your kindness,” Tallea said, filling the silent void. “Is your god kind?”
Orick stopped in mid-stride. He gazed, realizing that she was apologizing. She wanted to speak to him. “He watches the sparrows and knows their thoughts. He weeps when one dies. He says He cares far more for us, than for them.”
“If your god is so powerful,” Tallea said, “why does he let them die?”
“He doesn’t,” Orick said. “He’s prepared a way so our spirits can return to Him. With Him, we will live forever. The sparrows go to Him.”
“If they go to him when they die, then why should he weep?”
“Because,” Orick said, “He doesn’t weep because they’re dead, He weeps because of the pain they must pass through to reach Him.”
Tallea asked, “Then we must wait for death, in order to be happy?”
“No,” Orick said. “Our spirits can go to Him now. Our spirits can mingle with His.”
“If this would make us happy, and if he loves us, then he should just do it.”
Tallea could not hide the desolation she felt. Her voice cracked. She wanted happiness. She wanted it so much, she was willing to do just about anything to get it. Orick could tell.
“You wouldn’t break into the house of a friend, would you?” Orick asked. When Tallea shook her head, he said, “God will not force Himself on you. When He sends His spirit, He does so only by your invitation, and only when you are prepared to receive Him.”
So it began. Tallea seemed eager to hear his words. Orick had always loved her, he freely admitted, but he also loved God. Perhaps her desire to learn of God came only from jealousy, her desire to check out her competition. Perhaps she was curious because she did crave happiness; Orick could honestly claim to have found a measure of it.
So it was that Orick, Missionary to the Cosmos, began teaching the woman he hoped would become his first convert.
Chapter 14
Zeus did not wait an hour to contact Maggie once Gallen departed. He felt pressed for time to carry out the seduction. As he strode down the corridors to Maggie’s room, he wondered what kind of woman would marry a Lord Protector? Someone who cares for others? Someone who has been hurt? Someone who feels the need for protection? Someone who values faithfulness in a relationship? Or maybe Maggie valued law in and of itself, needed structure in her life. All these, perhaps.
Zeus snickered at the possibility that Maggie needed structure in her life. Order … wearied him. He could imagine nothing more tedious than an ordered existence. Inwardly he shivered. If Maggie was one of those, it would be damned hard to pry her legs open.
There were other possibilities. Maggie might be attracted to strong men for their own sake. She might even adore violence. Perhaps she found it exciting to be married to a Lord Protector-someone who hunts and kills others who are just as predatory in nature. Perhaps Maggie had a wicked streak. If that were the case … Zeus grinned at the possibilities.
Then, of course, the fact Maggie had married a Lord Protector could be an accident. Gallen and Maggie were hardly more than children. Gallen couldn’t have been a Lord Protector long.
But it was no accident, Zeus knew. Even if Maggie had chosen Gallen before he became a Lord Protector, he’d at least had the potential to become a Lord Protector. His personality was set, his nature formed. No, Maggie chose to marry a Lord Protector, regardless of whether or not he’d won his mantle.
Yet the fact that Maggie was young gave Zeus hope. Young women were more easily seduced. Newlyweds tended to still be in the habit of looking for mates, of fantasizing about others. Sometimes they felt concerned for their own adequacy as lovers, and would be open to experimentation.
Zeus’s hopes ran high as he reached the door to Maggie’s room, pressed the chimes to announce his presence.
Maggie appeared at the door, somewhat disheveled, her hair flattened on the right. She’d been lying down.
“Oh, it’s you?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, me,” Zeus said, looking deep into Maggie’s eyes. He could see no wickedness there-not the kind of flashing excitement of one who enjoys another’s misery. Nor did he see sensual curiosity. She did not open the door wider in invitation, or look furtively down the hall to be certain they were alone. He dared only look into her eyes, though he longed to let his gaze slide down her body. The air was thick with her clean scent, a sweet perfume.
“Can I help you?” Maggie asked. Zeus imagined he could feel a certain weight behind those words, a hint of promise. If you need help, and I can assist, I will help you.
Zeus almost smiled. No wonder she had wed a Lord Protector.
“Yes, please, I think you can. I … I mean I hope you can,” Zeus said. He glanced back over his shoulder, as if afraid others might be watching.
“Is something wrong?”
“I need help,” Zeus answered solemnly. “I want to escape from here, from Lord Felph. Will you meet me, tonight, at sundown?”
“You need my help?” Maggie asked, incredulous.
Zeus glanced back nervously. “You’re a technician, right? I hope you can help. Will you meet me, in the North Garden, beside the peacock fountain? I–I’ll give you dinner. I have no other way to repay you.”
“Why not talk now?” Maggie opened the door wider, so Zeus could enter.
“No, Hera saw me walking down here,” Zeus said, feeling inspired. “She’s in league with Felph. I don’t want her to know we’re talking. Tonight. Meet me tonight.” Of all his brothers and sisters, only Hera would dare interfere with Zeus’s plans. She’d bet against this seduction. Zeus prepared to drive a wedge between the women.