“Greeting, my son,” said the archbishop sonorously. “I was told by my angel you were coming hither and—”

“I am not your son,” said Sharr flatly, “and I happen to know that your ‘angel’ is a creature from the stars who has to live in a tank but has the unholy power to read men’s thoughts—”

“That is blasphemy,” said the archbishop mildly, “but since you have been misled all your life, even to the extent of becoming a high priest of the false god, you will be forgiven this time.”

“Oh, I know your artificial thunderbolts—you must have some, all your other miracles are artificial—could smite me where I stand,” said Sharr wearily. “No matter. My knowledge will not die with me.”

The archbishop’s eyes narrowed. Sharr hurried on: “When the strangers first came from beyond the stars, they brought a great hope to Crios. They cured us of many ancient ills, they gave us machines which produced more abundantly than slaves ever could…oh, yes, all the nations of Crios were glad to unify and join their Galactic League as a whole planet. But now I see all this was but the mask of the Evil Ones.”

“In what way?” asked the other. “Before, there was only one faith on Crios. Now all gods can compete equally. If the stronger—that is, the truer—gods drive the weaker from the hearts of the people, what harm? Rather it is good. If your god is true, let him produce miracles such as ours.”

“Let us not mince words,” said Sharr. “There is no one here but us. All Crios rejoiced at the possession of spaceships, for now we could bring the true faith to other worlds, saving countless souls from the Evil Ones. But no sooner had we begun organizing a great crusade than you appeared—and your sly words and your false miracles and your machine-made magnificence turn more and more Crian hearts to the god in which you yourselves do not believe.”

“How do you know we don’t?”

“Few Crians have been to space, and most of those who went have returned as traitors like yourself,” said Sharr. I went to see what power this Galactic lord of yours has elsewhere. I had my own ship and I used my own eyes. I saw that no other world had ever heard of him. I saw machines doing the same sort of things which you do here, seemingly by the power of your god, to impress the ignorant—building your churches overnight, scattering gold from nowhere, turning one metal into another; I saw creatures of horrible aspect which read minds—Oh, I began to see what your god really was. When I came back, I did a little investigation, I had my spies here and there—I know you for the cold-blooded liars you are.”

“Why should we lie? What is the point in preaching a false religion?”

“Power, glory—I can think of many reasons, but my personal belief is that you are agents of the Evil Ones, sent to destroy the great Crian crusade before it got started. Had all of this planet been pure in faith, the All-Father would have aided us and we would have swept the Galaxy before us into his fold—now we must first get rid of the false Galactic lord and then slowly, by prayer and repentance, win back our worthiness.”