“Josef is emotional. I’ll say that,” Seven said.

“I’d met him in my dreams often before that too—I just remembered. When we’re … alive? Is that the term? … Then we don’t recall what we do when we’re asleep—”

Seven beamed. “You’re doing very well.”

“Why, I was drawn to him at once,” Lydia said. “And he and Bianka need someone to give them … intellectual balance, too. And, oh, yes, I remember something else. I’ll be the model for many of his paintings.” She turned to Cyprus. “But how can I be reborn in the seventeenth century if I died in the twentieth? Funny—I was always attracted to seventeenth-century literature too. That must be because I knew I’d be born there.”

“Seven will explain,” Cyprus said, with a smile. “But you see, there is free will. We just knew what you’d decided, while you’d purposely forgotten.”

And Cyprus disappeared.

“Tweety. Tweety Landsdatter,” Lydia said, musing. “That will be my name. Tweety, daughter of Bianka and Josef.”

Josef squirmed. “I feel funny,” he grumbled. “Like there’s someone else in the room.”

“You’re just nervous after all the festivities,” Bianka said. “You’re embarrassed to be alone with your virgin bride.” She giggled.

“I ought to—” he said, laughing, but he was exhausted. “My God, there’s a ghost or something in here!” he thundered.

“Go to sleep!” she cried.

Lydia grinned, staring at the boots thrown on the floor, the pile of clothes beside the bed, the smell of sweat and love. How odd, she thought. She trailed about the room, smoking an hallucinatory cigarette, looking about twenty-five. But in other terms they were all of the same age—ageless. God! How intertwined their lives would become.

The Final Chapter

The End of This Particular Examination — Seven “Graduates” — He Learns Something About Himself and Discovers Who Wrote This Book

Seven grimaced and began the final portion of his examination. It was entitled “Comprehension.” “Lydia comprehends a lot,” he said to Cyprus. “Proteus is learning, and so is Ma-ah. Josef certainly has made great strides. I mean, he’s really painting, and he relates to people better than he ever did before. But will he have a time with Lydia—I mean, Tweety! She’ll teach him a thing or two, and it serves him right.”

“That’s not a very nice attitude,” Cyprus said. “I imagine Tweety can learn quite a bit from him, too, and from Bianka.”

“But I’m worried about several things,” Seven admitted. “Ma-ah doesn’t know her origin, and” (he looked down) “I seem to have forgotten it myself. Proteus doesn’t understand how the Tellers’ dig went undiscovered all those centuries, much less why the Floaters haven’t found it now—”

“Yes?” Cyprus said.

“Well, I don’t understand how I knew enough to lead Ma-ah and Rampa to the Speakers to begin with—”

“Keep going,” Cyprus said.