Dejectedly, Lydia sat down on one of the benches. With her head bowed she looked medieval in the pilgrim’s gown. She moved; glanced toward the gods’ rest home, its stone structure looming now like a dark cliff in the distance. “I’ve made one decision, anyway,” she said. “If anyone is interested.”

Cyprus was smiling very gently, and yet her smile had the same neutral quality as the twilight, Seven noticed. “What did you decide?” Cyprus asked Lydia.

Lydia stood up, one arm resting on the back of the bench, the pilgrim cowl half obscuring the curve of her cheeks. She looked tired, defeated, and triumphant all at once. “I’m definitely ready to be born again. I’m going through with it after all,” she said, but with a hard tone to her voice that defied her slumped shoulders. “I want earth life again, with clear boundaries and a framework that I can understand. And gods or not; God, my life last time made more sense than the gods do. So who needs a senile Christ and a Jell-O Buddha? I want to go to Bianka’s room again, and check with Josef, and see how the birth preparations are going. I just can’t handle all of this other—” She broke off and threw her arms out in the air. “Nonsense!” she cried.

Seven blushed. Cyprus, with that strange neutrality, took Lydia’s hand in hers, and the two of them vanished. For a moment Seven was alone, though he knew that Cyprus would return for their talk; a talk he’d rather forget, he told himself. It was obvious that he’d gone wrong somewhere in this search for the gods, and yet he knew that he had to let Lydia and Will search in their own ways. He’d merely help out as best he could.

In the odd twilight, Seven disentangled himself mentally from his personalities, from Lydia and Will and Josef, and instantly he felt lighter, freer, and playful. The universe was safe, spilling over with exuberance; so where, he wondered, had Lydia’s and Will’s dissatisfaction come from? Granted, the gods seemed—well, a trifle erratic, but they were likable enough in their own fashions. So just what did Will and Lydia expect of them? And why should either of them suppose, if they did, that those gods had anything to do with running the universe?

He decided to forget about it while he could. Free of restraints, Seven played in the twilight. He turned into a flower, luxuriating in the touch of gentle air. He forgot himself in the very transparency of his being, while all the time knowing that he knew himself better for his temporary unknowing.

At first, Cyprus was only a distant thought to him. Then she appeared. The two of them turned into points of light, sparkling in the garden.