“He wished they had not done it … But, yes … he did agree that without these wounds Terra could not know how much he loved her. You will find, my child, that love rarely ever reaches out to save except it does it with a broken hand.”

She seemed to understand, and because he loved her childish eyes so much he made her ready for the future.

“Do you love me, child?” he asked.

“With all my heart,” she answered.

“And would you give me anything I asked of you?” he said.

“Anything!” she answered.

“It may be hard to give me all I ask. Not long ago, in the name of love, I gave you legs. Yesterday that very love demanded mine. But the Song is all that matters. It may be you will have to sing it where the crowd will shout you down and demand your legs or life. But it would be far better to give them both than to surrender up the music in your soul. Some will hate you for the song you love. They will seek to stop your singing. But no matter how they treat you, remember that I suffered everything before you. And if they should brand you with a name across your face …”

“It cannot stay, if heaven disagrees,” she finished up his statement.

He had stretched her small philosophy. But he knew that she was growing in her understanding of the Song.

“Let us stop our talking and say that for right now it is enough to be a little girl with two good legs and to know the sun is shining. Let’s go out into the fields together. Are you afraid to hold my wounded hand?” he asked. “It is so ugly.”

“It is so beautiful,” she disagreed. He held out his gentle hand. She placed her little hand in his and was surprised to find that when his hand had closed around her own he had a healthy grip. “Your hand is firm and strong. God did not leave it broken long,” she said.

“He never does,” he answered.

Hand in hand they walked. The sunlight brought the brightest day the world had ever known. She held his hand as if to never let him go. She skipped at the base of her shadow and danced the way she had the very day they met.

“I’m sorry I had doubts about my legs,” she said, then asked, “Where are we going?”

“To a man who has some doubts about his mind.”

XXIV

Every constellation is but a gathering of distant suns. It is mere perspective that makes Betelgeuse a star. Seen close enough she is a raging fire. A sphere of flaming hydrogen, if it be nearer, will dominate the sky and blot out all the lesser lights. And such a fire will say again, “Earthmaker has a living Son.”

The sunlight came much later to the wall than it did to city streets. Two women hurried through the purple and the silver light of dawn toward the grove where they knew the sentinels had led the Madman. The trees in darkness were menacing and thick. They kept upon the path until the dark and ancient wall towered over them.