“Perhaps it’s not what happened as much as what didn’t,” Shad said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t be the King’s bride without giving up your other lovers.”

“But he crossed the chasm,” Victoria said.

“Things aren’t always what they appear,” Shad said, warming his hands on his old tin coffee cup. “Whether a man has crossed the chasm is between him and the King. But sharing the same ground and air and meals with chasm-crossers doesn’t make you one, any more than pouring oil into a coffee cup makes it coffee.”

I thought not just about David, but how close I came to staying behind.

“David’s window of opportunity will soon close,” Shad said, “as will ours. But for now he can still choose his path—so can we all.”

As we walked, I looked to the east and noticed how Mount Peirasmos slowly shrank behind us. Just then Marcus appeared beside me, startling both me and Frodo, who barked and growled. Marcus gazed at him, and the pooch suddenly calmed down, falling into step beside us.

“Do you remember,” Marcus asked, “the man you passed on the road, the one in the blue raincoat?”

“Sure.”

“What was his name?”

“I never asked.”

“His name was Ed. You considered telling him of the King, did you not?”

“Yes, and I almost did, but … the time wasn’t right.”

“And did you expect to have another time?”

“Maybe. I might bump into him later.” I hesitated. “I guess I just didn’t want him to think I was a fanatic.”

“Are you not a fanatic, then?”

“I mean, I didn’t want him to think I was pushy.”

“And so you did not offer him the most important gift in the universe? You did not sing to him the music his songless heart longed to hear?”

“No. I guess I didn’t.”

“You will stand before the Audience of One,” Marcus said. “Men’s opinions of you will not matter to you then. Knowing that, why do they matter so much to you now?”

“Something told me I shouldn’t bring it up.”

“Something or someone? Tell me, Nick. If the worst happens, if men reject you, what have you lost?”

I thought of the bad feelings, the insults, the embarrassment—then made a quick comparison to the life awaiting me in Charis. “Nothing,” I said, throat scratching. “Marcus, tell me about Bluecoat, I mean, Ed. Will we cross paths again? Will the King send others to speak to him?”

“There was a rock slide this morning,” Marcus said. “Ed was killed.” At a color-cloaked meadow lined with fruit trees heavy with senaba and apples, we stopped for a break. Victoria squeezed the senaba and filled our water bottles, while Shad cautiously inspected some combs dripping with honey—as the bees inspected him.

“Ouch! You miserable creatures!” Shad shouted.