“They weren't?"
“I don't think so; I'm not really sure."
“They should have been. We found what we wanted.” He sipped his brew.
“Kwam? thought you had; he's been thinking about going out in one of the airships to get you, but he decided not to risk it-at least, until this blizzard hit. If you hadn't made it when you did he'd have come after you."
John did not find that reassuring, somehow; he suspected that Kwam? might well have waited just a little too long, thereby keeping a clear conscience while ridding himself of potential trouble-and of course, potential profit as well. Before he could think of anything appropriate to say, the door of the inn slammed open, caught by the wind, and Kwam? himself stepped in, wrapped in a dull gray cloak.
John noted that somehow, none of the wet, driven snow had stuck to the garment; Kwam? was able to take it off and fold it up without shaking it out. Not only was there no snow adhering to it, it looked dry. Another bit of Earther technology, John thought with resignation. Even miracles could lose their savor when they came too often, and the Earthers seemed to produce one minor miracle after another, without let-up.
“You made it,” Kwam? said as he sank into the table's only remaining vacant chair.
John nodded. “So we did,” he said.
The Earther seemed uncertain of what to say next, so John went on, “We got the invitation, from a village called Savior's Grace up in Isachar-they call themselves the Free People, but so do a lot of independent villages. There's a big meadow at the foot of the hillside they're on that should be just about large enough for the landing site.” He pulled out the document Bound-for-Glory had given him.
Kwam? accepted it, unrolled it and began reading. John interrupted to ask, “What happened to Stephen Christ-is-Risen?"
Kwam? looked up. “Who?"
“Stephen Christ-is-Risen, Shepherd of the People of Heaven."
“Oh, you mean the preacher here? He's out on Fomalhaut II, I think-wanted to preach the word to the heathen, I suppose."
“He's alive?"
Kwam? lowered the document. “Of course he's alive! Why wouldn't he be?"
“The rumor in Spiritus Sancti is that you people murdered him when he got in your way."
“Oh, no! We couldn't get away with that. He just felt useless after we started running everything; his last few meetings didn't get more than a dozen people. When he complained, Ricky Dawes offered him free transportation anywhere in the Confederacy, and he took it."
“He did?"
“Sure, why not? What is there here on Godsworld for him?"
“It's his home."
“So what? He's a preacher-he wanted people to preach to, and the people here weren't interested any more. They have plenty of preachers. Out on Fomalhaut II organized religion was outlawed for a couple of centuries, so the miners are eager for interesting preachers."
“Oh.” John found it impossible to answer intelligently. Kwam? and the other Earthers knew so much more than he did, about the universe and everything in it, that he often found himself feeling like a stupid child when talking with them. Changing the subject, he tapped the document. “How do you like your Christmas present?"
“Christmas?” He looked down at the paper, then up at John. “Oh, Christmas! I see. I like it fine!"
“Don't they still celebrate Christmas back on Earth? I know true Christianity is dead, but I thought the trappings still lingered."
“Oh, we do! But we call it Exmas, and Earth's on a different calendar from Godsworld; it's only October to me. I haven't adjusted to the change yet."
“Oh; here, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the day after that is Christmas, and the day after that is New Year's Day, the start of Anno Domini Two Thousand Five Hundred and Ninety-Four-that means ‘the year of the Lord'."
“I know that, I'd just forgotten for a moment. On Earth it's October, Twenty-Five Forty-Three, Standard Reckoning."
John nodded. “What do they reckon from?"
“The same thing you do, except that your years are shorter. That's not important. John, this invitation doesn't mention you anywhere."
“Oh?"
“Don't you want to have some say in what happens? I want you to-you promised me a job with ITD, but this Seth Bound-for-Glory never did."
John shrugged. “I'd like to help run things, but I won't insist. If you're worried about your own job, just demand they hire you before you give them the invitation-or at least before you tell them where Savior's Grace is. You just get them to come here, and I'll take care of myself."
“All right,” Kwam? said. “There's a ship going out tomorrow morning; I'll see if I can get on that. I'm due for some vacation time."
That reminded John of something. “Why are they flying their starships by daylight now?” he asked.
“Oh, that's your doing! You made such a big point of telling everyone that we're from Earth that there didn't seem to be any reason to hide it any more; they've been flying in daylight since four days after you left.” He rolled up the invitation and stood. “I should get going; I'll be lucky to get on this flight as it is.” He paused. “I'm not sure whether I should thank you or not."
“Don't worry about it,” John said. “We'll see how things turn out."
“Right. I'll probably be coming back on an ITD ship and landing directly at Savior's Grace, I guess."
“I'll be there waiting for you,” John said; he reached out and shook Kwam?'s hand in farewell.
The Earther flung his cloak about his shoulders and marched out into the snow.
Chapter Twenty
“Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbor's house; lest he be weary of thee, and so hate thee."-Proverbs 25:17
Despite his attempts to earn his keep by shoveling snow, carving nearwood, and breaking up ice for drinking water, it was obvious to John that he was wearing out his welcome in Savior's Grace. Although few said so openly, he doubted that more than a handful of the villagers still believed an ITD ship was coming.
John was not entirely sure he believed it himself. He had hurried back to Isachar, unsure whether the ship might come before he could reach Savior's Grace, but his haste turned out to be completely unnecessary. January and February passed without any sign of a ship, and with the first week of March and the spring thaw he began to wonder if something had gone wrong. Had Bechtel-Rand discovered what Kwam? had in mind, and somehow stopped him? Had ITD refused to cooperate for some reason? Had they thought it was a trick, or dismissed Godsworld as not worth fighting over? Had Bechtel-Rand shot down the ITD ship?
Late in the afternoon of the eighth of March he was working in a nearwood field, carving away the soft red pulp from an unusually large, fine mass, when he glanced at the sky for the thousandth time and saw a distant glittering.
He froze, the machete half-raised, and stared.
The glittering grew brighter; something shiny was falling out of the sky.
He dropped the machete and ran for the meadow, shouting, “The ship! The ship's coming! Clear the field!"
Around him his fellow workers stopped and stared. “Get back here!” the nearwood field's owner called; John ignored him and kept running.
By the time he was past the stone fence he could make out the ship's general contours; it was roughly cylindrical, with several odd lumps and bulges. It was descending rapidly; John had no way of judging its size, but it was obviously enormous.
He charged full-tilt down the hillside toward the meadow chosen for the landing, just barely managing to slow down in time to avoid colliding with the wire surrounding it. The ship, too, slowed as it neared the meadow; its shadow spread across the field.