“Well,” she said. “We did get rid of the demon one way or another, didn’t we? He must have guarded the land of the gods.”

Seven gave up for the moment. “Right,” he said dourly.

The scene was quickly taking on all the dimensions of an actuality. Mountains appeared in the distance, roads and paths arching over them. Trees materialized, growing to full size in the flash of an eye. Lakes almost spilled over with soft water. Lydia said, “Oh, it’s all so unbelievable that I have to sit here for a minute and catch my breath.”

“You do? You wear me out,” Seven muttered, but he was proud of her; the environment was splendid.

While it lasted, he thought. His robe was hot. He changed it to a silken one, though he was sure that few artists in any century wore silken gowns. Still, there could always be a first, he thought, and with some admiration he stared at Lydia. No one could say that she wasn’t independent! There she was, slender, brave, and true, he thought, grinning. Her innocence and intensity were more than he could bear. He wanted to see how far those qualities could take her.

More; a part of him roused up in response so that all of his own beginnings began to merge, surge, ascend. He added his exuberance to hers, as it came tumbling into his experience from all the times and places that he’d known; and the scene took on that incredible clarity that defied any one reality; transcended them all and yet was brilliantly itself, and no other.

The summer-scented path led up to a gigantic building that overlooked the top of the hill. They began to climb.

Chapter Six

Josef’s Difficulties

At first the path was easy enough. Then Seven noticed that it gradually became slippery, and the clear air seemed colder. Suddenly, in fact, the wind was so chilly that Oversoul Seven changed his artist’s robe to a woolen one and added a scarf.

“Aren’t you cold, Lydia?” he called, but there was no answer. Squinting, Seven realized that a fine snow was blowing before his eyes, and for a moment he couldn’t see anything at all. “Lydia?”

He called again, when he thought he saw her ahead in the distance. But where had the snow come from? In the next instant, with a sinking heart, he knew. For the figure ahead wasn’t Lydia. It was one of his other personalities—Josef, Lydia’s father-to-be. Seven had been so involved with Lydia’s experiences that he’d almost forgotten Josef entirely. Well, not really. That was an exaggeration, he told himself quickly, guiltily. Yet he was rather impatient at being called away from Lydia, and it didn’t help when Seven remembered his last encounter with Josef, who had angrily told Seven to mind his own business and leave him alone.