She stopped. There were rude buildings just ahead and she felt that she would be more protected in among them. They were more like . . . corridors, like Ship’s own passages. But she was filled with outrage. What kind of a lesson is this? What good is it?

Ekel, your kind cannot learn peace until you are drenched in violence. You have to disgust yourselves beyond all anger and fear until you learn that neither extortion nor exhortation moves a god. Then you need something to which you can cling. All this takes a long time. It is a difficult lesson.

Why?

Partly because of your doubts.

Is that why You brought me here? To settle my doubts?

There was no response and she felt suddenly bereft, as though Ship had abandoned her. Would Ship do that?

Ship?

What do you hear, Ekel?

She bent her head, listening. Hurried footsteps. She turned. A group of people rushed past her down the hillside. A young man hurried behind this group. He stopped beside Hali.

“You stayed the whole time and did not curse him. Did you love him, too?”

She nodded. The young man’s voice was rich and compelling. He took her hand.

“I am called John. Will you pray with me in this hour of our sadness?”

She nodded and touched her lips pretending that she could not speak.

“Oh, dear woman. If he had but said the word, your affliction would have passed from you. He was a great man. They mocked him as the son of God, but all he claimed was a kinship to Man. ‘The Son of Man,’” he said. That is the difference between gods and men—gods do not murder their children. They do not exterminate themselves.”

She sensed then in this young man’s manner and his voice the power of that event on the hillside. It frightened her, but she realized that this encounter was an important part of what Ship wanted her to experience.

Some things break free of Time, she thought.

You can come back to your own flesh now, Ekel, Ship said.

Wait!

John was praying, his eyes closed, his grip firm on her hand. She felt it was vital to hear his words.

“Lord,” he said, “we are gathered here in your name. One in the foolishness of youth and the other infirm with age, we ask that you remember us as we remember you. As long as there are eyes to read and ears to hear, you will not be forgotten. . . .”