like to form some opinion of what sort of man Mondior is, what his views are on other things besides the prophesied destruction of the world, what he thinks about—”
“I can only repeat what I have already said,” Folimun declared, cutting in smoothly. “You may think of me as the voice of Mondior. His Serenity will not be able to see you in person today.”
“Then I would prefer to return on another day, when His Serenity will be—”
“Permit me to inform you that Mondior does not make himself available for personal interviews, not ever. Not
ever.
His Serenity’s work is much too urgent, now that only a matter of months stands between us and the Time of Flame.” Folimun smiled suddenly, an unexpectedly warm and human smile, perhaps intended to take some of the sting out of the refusal and out of that melodramatic-sounding phrase, “the Time of Flame.” Almost gently he said, “I would guess that there’s been a misunderstanding, that you didn’t realize that your appointment would be with a spokesman for Mondior rather than with the High Apostle himself. But that’s the way it must be. If you don’t wish to speak with me, well, I regret that you’ve wasted your trip today. But I’m the most useful source of information you’re going to be able to find here, now or at any other time.”
Again the smile. It was the smile of a man who was coolly and unapologetically closing a door in Theremon’s face.
“Very well,” Theremon said after a moment or two of consideration. “I see I don’t have much choice. I get you or I get nobody. All right: let’s talk. How much time do I have?”
“As much as you need, though this first meeting will have to be a fairly brief one. And also”—a grin, a surprising one, almost mischievous—“you must bear in mind that we have only fourteen months altogether. And I’ve got a few other things to do during that time.”
“So I imagine. Fourteen months, you say? And then what?”
“You haven’t read the Book of Revelations, then, I assume.”
“Not recently, actually.”
“Permit me, then.” Folimun produced a thin red-bound volume from some crevice of his apparently empty desk and slid it toward Theremon. “This is for you. You’ll find much nourishment in it, I hope. Meanwhile I can summarize the theme that appears to be of the greatest interest to you. Very shortly—exactly four hundred and eighteen days from now, to be extremely precise, on the nineteenth of Theptar next—a great transformation will come over our comfortable, familiar world. The six suns will enter the Cave of Darkness and disappear, the Stars will make themselves manifest to us, and all Kalgash will be set ablaze.”
He made it sound very casual. As though he might be talking about the coming of a rainstorm tomorrow afternoon, or the expected blossoming of some rare plant next week in the Municipal Botanical Garden. All Kalgash set ablaze. The six suns entering the Cave of Darkness. The Stars.
“The Stars,” Theremon said aloud. “And what, in fact, may they be?”
“They are the instruments of the gods.”
“Can you be more specific, do you think?”
“The nature of the Stars will be made more than amply clear to us,” said Folimun 66, “in a matter of four hundred and eighteen days.”
“When the current Year of Godliness comes to its end,” said Theremon. “On Theptar nineteenth of next year.”
Folimun looked pleasantly surprised. “So you
have
been studying our teachings.”
“To some extent. I’ve listened to Mondior’s recent speeches, at any rate. I know about the two-thousand-and-forty-nine-year cycle. —And the event you call the Time of Flame? I suppose you can’t provide me with any sort of advance description of that, either.”
“You’ll find something along those lines in the fifth chapter of the Book of Revelations. No, you needn’t search for it now: I can quote it for you. ‘From the Stars there then reached down the Heavenly
“I can only repeat what I have already said,” Folimun declared, cutting in smoothly. “You may think of me as the voice of Mondior. His Serenity will not be able to see you in person today.”
“Then I would prefer to return on another day, when His Serenity will be—”
“Permit me to inform you that Mondior does not make himself available for personal interviews, not ever. Not
ever.
His Serenity’s work is much too urgent, now that only a matter of months stands between us and the Time of Flame.” Folimun smiled suddenly, an unexpectedly warm and human smile, perhaps intended to take some of the sting out of the refusal and out of that melodramatic-sounding phrase, “the Time of Flame.” Almost gently he said, “I would guess that there’s been a misunderstanding, that you didn’t realize that your appointment would be with a spokesman for Mondior rather than with the High Apostle himself. But that’s the way it must be. If you don’t wish to speak with me, well, I regret that you’ve wasted your trip today. But I’m the most useful source of information you’re going to be able to find here, now or at any other time.”
Again the smile. It was the smile of a man who was coolly and unapologetically closing a door in Theremon’s face.
“Very well,” Theremon said after a moment or two of consideration. “I see I don’t have much choice. I get you or I get nobody. All right: let’s talk. How much time do I have?”
“As much as you need, though this first meeting will have to be a fairly brief one. And also”—a grin, a surprising one, almost mischievous—“you must bear in mind that we have only fourteen months altogether. And I’ve got a few other things to do during that time.”
“So I imagine. Fourteen months, you say? And then what?”
“You haven’t read the Book of Revelations, then, I assume.”
“Not recently, actually.”
“Permit me, then.” Folimun produced a thin red-bound volume from some crevice of his apparently empty desk and slid it toward Theremon. “This is for you. You’ll find much nourishment in it, I hope. Meanwhile I can summarize the theme that appears to be of the greatest interest to you. Very shortly—exactly four hundred and eighteen days from now, to be extremely precise, on the nineteenth of Theptar next—a great transformation will come over our comfortable, familiar world. The six suns will enter the Cave of Darkness and disappear, the Stars will make themselves manifest to us, and all Kalgash will be set ablaze.”
He made it sound very casual. As though he might be talking about the coming of a rainstorm tomorrow afternoon, or the expected blossoming of some rare plant next week in the Municipal Botanical Garden. All Kalgash set ablaze. The six suns entering the Cave of Darkness. The Stars.
“The Stars,” Theremon said aloud. “And what, in fact, may they be?”
“They are the instruments of the gods.”
“Can you be more specific, do you think?”
“The nature of the Stars will be made more than amply clear to us,” said Folimun 66, “in a matter of four hundred and eighteen days.”
“When the current Year of Godliness comes to its end,” said Theremon. “On Theptar nineteenth of next year.”
Folimun looked pleasantly surprised. “So you
have
been studying our teachings.”
“To some extent. I’ve listened to Mondior’s recent speeches, at any rate. I know about the two-thousand-and-forty-nine-year cycle. —And the event you call the Time of Flame? I suppose you can’t provide me with any sort of advance description of that, either.”
“You’ll find something along those lines in the fifth chapter of the Book of Revelations. No, you needn’t search for it now: I can quote it for you. ‘From the Stars there then reached down the Heavenly
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