“Do we really believe it?” Geraint was still turning the impossibility of it all over and over in his mind. “Do we really say to ourselves, this is Leonardo in the flesh, alive after half a millennium?”
“I don’t know and it troubles me,” Serrin said. But he already had something else in mind, and was eager to find a pretext to take himself off.
“Not to mention all that slot about John and Isis and what not. What on earth is anyone going to make of that?”
“The Vatican took it seriously enough to try and nuke him,” Streak pointed out. “It was their missile, no question. I just sent him the full ID. Got some dosh back too. Working for two masters these days, boss.”
Geraint grinned back at him.
“I’not sure whether what he was saying was true.” Michael said slowly. “I know he believed every word of it, of course. But, even if it’s true, I reckon that religious belief and reason are sworn enemies. He may have the evidence, he may have alleged firsthand accounts, but I reckon blind faith won’t bow to that. Many still believe in the Shroud, even long after science has proved it a fake. I think he overestimates the reasonableness of people.”
“He’s got a good precedent for that,” Streak chipped in. “Let’s hope nobody nails this bloke to a tree for doing it.”
“Yeah,” Geraint said. “But do we believe it?” There was a long silence. Michael broke it.
“We were there.”
“Sure.”
“And we got it from the horse’s mouth.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I think I believe him,” Michael said, as though weighing every word. “And if that means that I think history is a lie and a lot of people have suffered and been deceived for two thousand years because of that, then I think… I think I believe that too. But don’t quote me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Geraint gave a small, surprised laugh. “I reckon, however that I just might agree with you.”
Serrin got away with Kristen in the early afternoon and began to drive westward. He didn’t know if he’d be expected, but when he arrived at the end of one of those English early-summer afternoons of real beauty and pleasantness, the cat, at least, was waiting for them. He’d known it would be.
“Hello, puss,” Serrin said. “I have the same gift for you as before, but this time I shall retreat at once so that you can enjoy it without being embarrassed.” He knelt down and placed the catnip-stuffed cloth mouse before the cat’s front paws, got up, and walked away without looking back. The cat dragged the mouse off under a lavender bush and began to savage it.
Merlin opened the door and looked out uncertainly, even slightly fearful, his eyes darting from one of them to the other.
“Are you all right?’
“I think so,” Serrin said, patting him on the shoulder. It might have seemed odd to him once; this was not a being of flesh and blood, but the spirit had a naive kindness rarely found in beings so made. The old elf was at the foot of the stairs, about to ascend them, and he turned at the sound of visitors. When he saw Serrin and Kristen, he smiled faintly and waved them in.
“He was telling the truth, wasn’t he?” Serrin asked, hardly waiting to be seated before beginning his questions. History records him as Leonardo. I have no idea what other names and faces he may have worn.”
“He has had many but, unlike some of us, he’s always been very careful about that,” Hessler agreed. “Often he has lived very quietly, especially when the mana was low, but he always becomes restless after a time, it’s been hard for him to disguise himself. He is known among us for his brilliance. It is reflected in his true name, but I could hardly tell you that.” The old elf smiled at the appropriateness of his expression. Reflection was the ideal word.
“I’d begun to wonder, for some time now, about how some of our people have beliefs about the return of spirits and the paths and the wheel of existences,” Serrin said. “And it has somehow never seemed quite right to me.”
“It is a belief carefully fostered,” Hessler said deliberately.
“It is not that we return to other lives. Some of the People live very long lives indeed,” Serrin said quietly. “Once or twice I have heard whispers, less than rumors really. I did not take them seriously at the time. They seemed, well, so wild.”
Hessler smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”
“You are one such,” Serrin said. it was a statement rather than a query.
“I am,” the elf affirmed. “But, of course, I trust that you will never mention this to anyone. I have seriously misjudged you if you do.”
“Of course not,” Serrin protested. “I just needed to know. For myself.”
“Then you should consider carefully the offer that was made to you.”
“By Leonardo? I still can’t get used to calling him that.”
“Get used to it. It is who he was and how he wishes to be known still.”
“The other things” Serrin said slowly. “His belief. What he called his passion. Isis. What of her?”
“Now that,” Hessler said carefully and in measured tones, “is something about which I cannot instruct you. That is an understanding that comes only through initiation. Some things one cannot give to another in words, because words are not enough to express their force and true nature.”
“But was it true? Is the history of the West such a lie then?
“No, wait, I know.” Serrin laughed after his flash of intuition. “You’re going to tell me that it depends on what is meant by truth.”
Hessler joined in the laughter for a moment, and then looked serious once more.
“It is so. If you want to know his truth, then you had better go to him. Only he can tell you.”
“But his so-called Great Work, Is it a lie or an illusion? Would I be wasting my time?”
“Oh, no,” Hessler said, very swiftly it seemed. “That you would not. The danger he speaks of is all too real. I wish more of us would come to terms with it. But some are dilettantes, some are resigned, some have lost the will after so many years, and as for one or two of those who were once among us-” He broke off with a slight shake of the head. “No, we won’t speak of that…”
“They have been here before,” he went on, “and lain waste to every living thing they could ravage. No, Serrin, this is no illusion nor lie. That is why he calls his inventions toys, why Merlin told you that wrecking those computer systems didn’t matter. Oh yes, I know he did, he’s been rather indiscreet.” He laughed again. “But I expect that of him. The wonderful thing is, he’s always indiscreet within my own limits of indiscretion.”
They both laughed now, and Serrin sat quietly with his hands wrapped around those of his wife, thinking deeply.
“So you think I should go.”
“Not least,” Hessler said, “because you did inadvertently make some enemies once or twice and I know that some powerful mages have a mark on you.”
“Those of Tir na nOg, Yes.” Serrin wondered how Hessler knew about that old skirmish, then realized he’d have been more surprised if the other elf hadn’t known.
“Go to him and such troubles will vanish like dew on the grass this morning.” Hessler told him. “If Kristen agrees.”
“I had thought of asking her, when we got home.”
“You missed it, you know. Merlin said something to you. He told you that she was important, and you missed it. The Black Madonna.” Hessler regarded Kristen with a gaze as old as Europe. “Your face, my dear, could have told them all they needed to know, if they hadn’t been so preoccupied with reason.”
She blessed him with a heavenly smile.
“I suppose that is so,” her husband agreed. “I have to know. Is it really true? You evaded me.”
“You want me to take responsibility for telling you whether two millennia of history is a lie?” Hessler asked him.
“I do.”
“I have lived long enough not to be lured into replying to such questions.”