The Light answered him with a question of its own. Is this also for those of the Empire?
He replied immediately, and simply.
Yes.
Had he not already pointed out that most of the people living in the Empire had nothing to do with the terrible things their leaders had done? Why should they not be protected?
Even your enemies? came the second question.
He answered it as he had the other. Yes.
If protecting his enemies was the cost of protecting the innocent, then so be it. Fanatics said, "Kill them all, and let God sort them out." He would rather say, "Save them all, and let God sort them out, for we have not the right to judge."
There was a timeless moment of waiting, and the Light flooded him with approval.
Then that is My answer, came the reply. Yes.
The Light vanished.
He found himself standing in the snow, his feet numb, his eyes watering, with his entire being filled with the answer.
He was a scintillating bowl full of Yes, and he carried that answer back to the Tower as carefully as an acolyte carried a bowl of holy water.
"You don't remember anything?" Lyam asked, alive with curiosity, as he helped Karal carry a new set of notes up to the storage chamber. Karal shook his head regretfully, and watched where he was putting his feet. The last few steps out of the workroom were worn enough to be tricky.
"All I remember is going out into the snow. After that—nothing, until I woke up again with the answer." He made an apologetic face. "Sorry, I know you'd love to note all of this down, and it's not a priestly secret or anything, but I just can't remember what happened."
The hertasi lashed his tail, perhaps with impatience. "You could have just gone out, come back, and pretended to have the answer," Lyam began. "Not that you would have, but—"
"That wouldn't be as easy as you think. I might have fooled anyone but Florian and Altra, but never either of them," Karal replied firmly. "And I'm not sure it would have fooled Need; I think she was a priestess before she was a sword, and if she was, she'll have ways of knowing when people make up answers they say are from their gods."
"If you say so," Lyam said, though his tone was dubious.
"And it wouldn't ever have fooled the Avatars," he continued forcefully. "How could it? How could you ever fool them about something like that?"
Lyam conceded defeat at that; although he might not be completely convinced of the supernatural nature of Florian, Altra, or Need, he was entirely convinced that the Avatars were something altogether out of his experience. He regarded them with a mixture of his usual intense curiosity mingled with awe and a little uncertainty. Karal found that mildly amusing. He had the distinct feeling that right up until the moment the hertasi first met the Avatars, little Lyam had been something of an agnostic—willing to admit in the reality of something beyond himself, but not at all willing to concede that it had anything to do with him and his everyday world. Like many another historian before him, Lyam was only convinced by verifiable facts. That was what would make him a good historian, rather than someone who was content to repeat all the same old erroneous gossip. The hertasi and his mentor Tarrn believed passionately in the truth, would do anything to find out the truth, and would probably do anything to defend the truth. They might find exonerating reasons for a friend who robbed another of property, but if that friend falsified historical documents or concealed relevant facts, they would show him no leniency.
Karal and Lyam arranged the notes in order with the last batch and sealed up the now-full box and put it with those holding Tarrn's precious chronicles. "If you've got a moment, could you give me a hand?" he asked Lyam. "You're better at handling hot rocks than I am."
"That's because you humans are poorly designed," the hertasi replied with a toothy grin. "You should have nice thick skin on your hands, preferably with a toughened outer hide or scales, so you can pick up things without hurting yourselves."
"Remind me to ask for that option, the next time I order a new body," Karal countered, as Lyam followed him into the bedchamber. "Then again, isn't that why you were created?"
"To make up for your human shortcomings?" Lyam laughed. "Why, yes. Someone besides divine beings needed to. And just try getting some ghost or Avatar to cook a good meal or mend clothing! We're indispensable!"
Karal laughed with Lyam, and had decided, given the sad condition that Altra had been in when he'd come back from delivering the teleson to Haven, that he would be prepared for a similar situation. When Altra returned from the Forest of sorrows, he would find food, good water, and a warm bed waiting for him, already prepared and standing ready. The guess was that Altra could return at any time after two days had passed, so in the afternoon of the second day Karal had arranged for all those things. The moment Altra returned he could eat and sleep without even having to ask for food or a warm bed. Karal kept heated stones tucked into the bed he'd made up, and as the warm, meat-laden broth he prepared got a little thick and past its prime flavor, he was usually able to find someone willing to eat the old while he prepared a new batch.
Lyam had been the latest beneficiary of Karal's cooking, and so he wasn't at all averse to helping Karal place more heated stones into the bedding. "So, what do you think of all this?" the hertasi asked. "Doesn't it seem kind of strange to be bringing in ghosts? I've never even met anyone who'd ever seen a ghost before this, had you?"
"It's no stranger than the Avatars, and they're ghosts, I suppose," Karal replied honestly. "I've never seen a ghost either before I got here, but it really doesn't bother me."
Lyam rolled his eyes with disbelief. "How can you be so calm about this? Firesong is planning on bringing a spirit here, and an ancient hero at that! Why, that would be like—like calling up Skandranon, or—or Baron Valdemar, or—or the first Son of the Sun! Aren't you excited? Or scared?"
Logically, Karal knew he should be both those things, and yet he couldn't manage to dredge up any real feelings about the situation. It just didn't seem real enough to him, or, perhaps it was only as real as he'd gotten used to. It was not that he was precisely numb about these sorts of events, it was just that long ago he had crossed over his threshold of amazement and now things were only a matter of degree. "Vanyel Ashkevron lived a long time ago, Lyam," he said after a long moment of thought. "I know that you're quite passionate about history and to you things that happened hundreds of years ago are as vital as things that happened last year, but honestly, I can't get very emotional about this. Especially not after having met living people who were considered to be very serious enemies of Karse before the Alliance, and discovering that they were really quite like people I knew at home. You know, I'll believe these spirits are going to be here when they arrive, and until then, I don't see any reason to get excited."