"Six. Chance, Kress, Ramsay, Jens, Tobias, and one other. I actively searched for many, many years, but that was a long time ago. In some ways, it was easier back then. One of the things I used to do was seek out any new spiritual leader. These were often men or women who spoke in strange tongues or possessed some new knowledge unknown to the other inhabitants of their city or village or tribe. In a few instances, these people turned out to be palingenesists who knew not what they were, save that they were different and took it as a sign of divinity. I found Chance, Tobias, and Jens that way. I think it much more difficult to find such individuals today. When enlightenment can be peddled in the marketplace alongside loaves of bread and cuts of meat, the voices of those truly divine become muffled. The world used to be a much simpler place, Evan."

I eased back on the seat and watched the waves roll onto the beach as we passed. White gulls and black frigate birds plied the waters for their quarry. Not only were we the only people in sight, but were it not for the hands that packed the dirt on the road, I would have thought we were the only ones who had ever been there. Time passed quickly in the isolation and the waning sun rested on the tops of the crests of the approaching waves when I saw it. The small spire rose out of the timeless sands like a soldier on post and stood vigil against the cyanic expanse of ocean and sky.

"Is that a lighthouse?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Does this road go past it?"

"No, it stops at it. It is my home."

"You live in a lighthouse?"

"My home is at the base of it."

"Does it still work?"

"Oh yes, I am the keeper."

The tower stretched higher into the evening twilight the closer we came. The road wound down onto a narrow point of land that jutted out into the sea and supported the stone blocks of the lighthouse. Waves, subdued by the ebbing of daylight, licked at the shore on both sides as we approached.

"As much as I enjoy the views on that ride, I am always happy when it is over."

I assumed from that comment that his butt was as sore as mine. Clovis reined the horse to a stop next to the back door of a small stone house dovetailed into the larger tan blocks of the tower. A tethered gray horse grazed on the sparse grass lying close to the ground.

"Aye Sayedee!" cried a young alto voice from the high railing circling the glass dome at the top of the spire. The young Arab on the walkway looked surprised at my presence.

Clovis waved and called back up to him. "That is Drusel, younger brother of Nusel," he said to me. "He has been manning the light during my absence."