CHAPTER 28
Show me God, and I will
believe.
Don't show me idols, for they will break.
Don't show me books, for they will burn.
Don't show me temples, for they will fall.
These were made by mortals, for mortals.
Show me God, and I will believe.
-Ivermik,
"In the Shadow of T'Chen"
Sarwin and Siverelle watched as the children
disappeared into the living area to play with the new toys, leaving their
smiling parents alone in the dining room with all the dirty dishes. As was the tradition of this greatest of
saurian holidays, the children opened their gifts before the Leetus meal and
only afterwards were allowed to go play with them, once they had correctly
recited the appropriate passages from the Scrolls. Since ancient times, the medicine of scripture was sweetened for
the young with material reward.
"Down to five now, my
love," said Siverelle, watching her brood grab joyfully at their toys,
"This is our first Leetus without Playtia. I miss her, Sarwin."
Her husband reached out and stroked
her cheek. "And I know she misses
you this day, as well. But all things
must change. It is the way of
things. Worry not, dear; she will visit
tomorrow and with our new son-in-law in tow.
I know you approve of him."
Siverelle smiled. "Yes, she has done well for
herself. I could not be more
proud." She looked away from him;
into space; into the past, "Yet I long for her to be with me again, a
toddler once more that I might bounce upon my knee and to whom I could again
sing songs of whimsy and wonder, even for only one more day."
"We have five more,
Siverelle. Our duties are far from
over. It will be many years yet before
it is only the two of us again."
"I know," she said,
"but I always get emotional at the holidays, you know that."
"Oh, yes I do," said
Sarwin with a smile, as he began to stack some of the dirty dishes to bring
them to the kitchen, "Did you like the meal?"
"Oh, you outdid yourself,
Sarwin. No one can cook a Treffis like
you. It was perfect. You're so handsome and a great chef too. I am a lucky matron."
"True, very true," agreed
her husband, in jest, scrapping the leftovers onto a single plate, "You
will have to leave for mass soon. Why
don't you get ready while I clean this up."
"Oh my, you're right, look at
the time," said his wife, "T'Chen forgive me, but I wish I did not
have to go. I wish I could stay here
with you and the children; or that you could all come with me."
"It would be nice if the church
did not force us to separate this evening," replied Sarwin, "but you
know children are not allowed to attend the mass of Leetus." He picked up the remains of the Treffis
carcass and carried it toward the kitchen.
"Nor heretics," he added,
as he disappeared through the door.
Siverelle got up and followed him
into the kitchen.
"I know you still hold a grudge
about your excommunication, Sarwin," she said, "You know it is
possible for you to return to the temple.
You just have to make the proper amends to the proper people."
"Ha!" snorted Sarwin,
wrapping the carcass in foil, "Why would I want to do that? It took a lot of hard work to get myself
thrown out of that place. It was one of
the best things to ever happen to me.
Why try to undo it?"
"Others may believe that
hardnosed attitude you like to project," stated his wife, "but I know
you better, dear. I know you were hurt
when they expelled you. It's okay to be
angry with them... with the temple.
They are just people. But it
does worry me that you blame it on religion itself... On T'Chen."
"I don't have any feelings for
T'Chen at all," he said, sliding the foil-shrouded remains into the
refrigerator, "I don't even think she exists."
"You don't really mean
that."
"Why shouldn't I mean it?"
he asked, closing the door of the appliance, "What has she ever done for
me?"
"She gave you life," she
replied, "She has given you everything.
She gave you that great brain of yours.
She gave you six wonderful children.
...and she gave you me."
"Well, how come you have to
tell me that?" he asked, "Why can't she tell me, herself? The way they describe her, T'Chen is like an
unseen parent who supports her children by sending money, but never shows her
face. Why is that?"
"Some would say she shows her
face in every sunrise. In every
flower. In the face of every
child."
Sarwin stopped working and folded
his arms. "Poems and pretty words
are nice, Siverelle, but I can't dedicate my life to something that exists only
in allegory. I'm sorry, but I need
proof. I need to see something with my
own eyes before I believe it."
"There is no way to prove that
god exists, my love," she countered, "that is why they call it
faith. You believe in it without seeing
it. You should at least try to
believe. It would do you no harm to
try."
"I can't just make myself
believe, Siverelle," he said, "You either do or you don't and I'm
sorry, I just don't feel it. Besides, I
think the whole question of whether god exists is pointless."
"Pointless? How can you say that?"
"You just said it
yourself," he answered, "it can never be proved either way, so why
bother even asking the question?"
"Well, you must believe in
order to get into heaven, Sarwin."
"Why?" he asked, "If
a person does not believe in god or heaven, but otherwise lives an exemplary,
charitable life; never hurting a fly...
always helping others... and asking nothing in return, does this not
guarantee such a person a place in heaven?"
"But you must believe in the
Goddess to get into heaven, dear," she countered, "If you do not
acknowledge Her all your life, how can you expect Her to acknowledge you in
death?"
"So even if I lived a faultless
life, she would eject me from paradise because I did not burn incense in her
honor?" asked Sarwin, "I cannot believe that. Don't you think a god would be bigger than
that? To condemn people because they
did not kneel to her? That seems so
petty and juvenile. It is below even a
person's dignity, let alone a god's."
He began to load dishes into the washer. "If T'Chen is our parent, as the temple decrees, and we are
her children, would it not be enough for her to see us live our lives justly
and with charity? Would you prefer our
children to grow up into successful, responsible adults but pay us scant heed,
or to shower us with praise and gifts, but do little more beyond that for
themselves?"
"I would hope for both,"
answered Siverelle.
"As would I," he replied,
"but I would not forever expel them from my house or my life if they did
not ever call on me. Yes, I would be
saddened, but I would be happier if they were successful. And if I never showed my face to them except
in flowers and sunsets, should I expect them to visit me?"
"You can't fight faith with
reason, Sarwin," replied Siverelle, "Reason is of the mind and faith
of the soul. I doubt one will ever
fully understand the other."
"I couldn't agree more. But faith is intolerant of reason and tries
to stamp it out."
"It goes both ways," she
argued back, "Those who let reason rule them sometimes try to stamp out
faith."
"Only because faith attacks
reason first," he defended, "Faith fears reason and feels it must
destroy reason to survive."
"Fears reason?"
"Yes," he said,
"Religion is mostly about fear, I think.
Fear of the unknown. Fear of
death."
"I think you have it all wrong,
Sarwin," she countered, "Faith is about love, not fear."
"The church uses love to
sugarcoat its tenets, but they are based on fear."
"Why do you say that?" she
asked.
"Because faith tries to explain
everything science cannot. When our
senses cannot detect something, like what happens to us after we die, for
example, religion fills in that void of knowledge for us. It provides comfort. Why?
Because most of us have a natural fear of the unknown and the church
takes advantage of that."
"Well, let's say for a moment
that is true and I'm not saying I agree with it, so what? So what if religion provides a little
comfort to those who fear the unknown?
What harm does it do?"
"None, if the puritans would
leave it at that," argued her husband, "but the church insists on
pressing its authority into every aspect of our lives. Even ones that have nothing to do with
spirituality."
"Well, as I said from the
beginning, that's the church; not the Goddess," she suggested, "You
must learn to separate the two, my love."
"Well then, fine," he
said, "If I cannot put my faith in the church, I will put it in god
elsewhere. I have faith that if she truly
exists, and is as kind and forgiving as they say, then she will reward me for
living a good life. If she decides to
cast me into Scoggast because of my doubts, then so be it. I would not want to spend eternity with so
petty a god anyway!"
Siverelle sighed. "I hope you are right, my love, for
your sake. If you don't mind, I will
continue to pray for your soul anyway."
Sarwin smiled at her. "Who am I to stop the matron of the
house from doing what she wants?" he said, affably, "I can't say I
believe much in the power of prayer, but it pleases me to know you care enough
about me to do it on my behalf."
Siverelle just leaned forward and
nuzzled her husband. They could hear
their loud brood still playing gleefully in the other room.
"We are leaving in a just a
couple of weeks now," whispered Siverelle into his ear, "We will not
see the children for almost a month."
"A month from our perspective,
yes," agreed Sarwin, relieved the subject was changed, "but from
theirs, we will leave in the morning and be home by dinnertime, just like any
other day. But we will have some
wonderful and exciting stories to tell them, I'm sure."
"I think I am more
excited about it than they could ever be.
Imagine, Sarwin, we are going twelve thousand years into the past to
witness the birth of the temple itself.
Oh, the wonders we will see! Shradia herself! And all the prophets! Who knows, maybe even a heretic could have
his head turned by this!" she said, with a playful nudge.
Sarwin
just smiled. "We shall see what we
shall see, my dear," said Sarwin flatly, "Reality is what it is and not what we wish it to be. We shall see the truth of our history laid
bare before us and this world
shall be forever changed by it."
"Well, whatever we find, I am
just glad that we will be able to see it together, Sarwin."
"You'd better get ready to go,
or you'll be late," he said, gesturing with a nod of his head, "I'll
finish cleaning up and watch the children until you return."
She nuzzled him in acquiescence and
left the kitchen toward their bedroom.
Sarwin continued cleaning up the remains of dinner and just as he
finished and was washing his hands, she reappeared, dressed in purple religious
splendor.
"You are absolutely
stunning," he said, embracing her, "This has not been my most
favorite color of late, but it suites you, Siverelle. You may go worship the goddess this night, but I shall worship
you when you return." Siverelle
giggled as he nuzzled her playfully.
"Stop it!" she said,
laughing, "I'm already late, I have to go!"
"Can I take this off you when
you get back?" he asked, with false coyness, pulling at the robe.
"Maybe..." she said,
demurely, "If you walk me to the door."
"I suppose I can fit that into
my busy schedule."
They walked to the door together,
hand in hand.
"I hate leaving you every
Leetus eve," she said, "I so wish we could be together. All the other matrons have their husbands in
attendance at the mass. It's just so
unfair that we must be parted on this most holy night."
"We are closer than you
think," he assured her and kissed her forehead, "Now get going,
love. You know what they say; Time and
T'Chen wait for no matron."
She kissed him back and exited the
door. "I'll see you soon,"
she said, over her shoulder and vanished into the night.
Sarwin watched as she made her way
to the tram station at the end of the block.
A car appeared almost instantly when she stepped onto the platform, as
they were designed to do. She stepped
on and was whisked away toward the heart of Uron.
Sarwin stood his vigil at the door,
his eyes never leaving the tram station.
About a minute after his wife's tram had left, another appeared. A large figure got out of it and walked
purposefully up the street toward Sarwin's house.
"Perfect timing," said
Sarwin, as the figure came into the light.
"Just following orders,"
answered Kleesic, with a smile, "Besides, what else is a lonely gray hide
to do on Leetus eve but to spend it with a fellow heretic. It's not like I'd be welcome at a mass!"
"The children are looking
forward to seeing their Uncle Kleesic again.
Thank you for watching them for me, I won't be long."
"You know, one of these years
you're going to get caught at this," warned his big friend, "Are you
sure this is worth it?"
"It is to me," Sarwin
answered dryly, "I do what I can to fulfill my wife's wishes."
"Her wishes," Kleesic
asked, "or your own?"
Sarwin let out a short laugh. "Maybe a little bit of both!" he
answered.
"Well, she's a lucky
matron," replied Kleesic, almost tenderly, "So... did you tell
her?"
"No, not yet."
"Not yet? We leave in two weeks! When do you plan to tell her? When the chronofield is forming around
us?"
"I know, I know! But she seems so enthralled about seeing Shradia. I can't bring myself to tell her our plan. But I know I must. I will tell her this night, my friend. When she returns. I
promise."
"Good.
Now you'd better get going if you want to make it," suggested the
bigger Ordinary, "and be careful!
Don't get caught. I don't want
to watch your kids for the rest of my life!" he continued, drolly.
"Ah, but they would love
it!" answered Sarwin, happy that the subject was changed, "Thank you
again, Kleesic."
Sarwin touched his friend on the
shoulder, then he grabbed a small bag he had stashed in a closet just inside
the door. He then headed off down the
street toward the tram station.
Kleesic watched as his friend
boarded a car and vanished toward the city and the danger he knew awaited him
there. Kleesic looked into the house,
from which he could hear the gleeful shouts of exciting children. Although he liked kids, sitting Sarwin's
five offspring all alone was a handful.
He would almost rather face the danger their father was confronting,
rather than stay here and watch his boss's unruly brood.
Kleesic sighed and, steeling
himself, entered the house to watch over his five disorderly charges.