Unaware of Eileen's spark of recognition, Jacob realized he had met this man before as well and he remembered where exactly: the Parliament of Religions, last year, in Chicago. But it was clear to Jacob, now shorn of his beard, that the Reverend Day could reclaim no memory of him; his magnetic eyes studied Jacob carefully but without a trace of identification,
His eyes are deadly, realized Jacob, glancing down at the last of his apple pie, heart accelerating. He had encountered people before whose will exerted a palpable force; this man projected it through his eyes like the flex of a muscle. Mustn't look in those eyes; he wanted to warn Eileen.
"And how are you feeling this evening, Mr. Jacob Stern?" asked the Reverend. "I understand you were taken ill somewhere along your journey."
"Much better, thank you," said Jacob, hoping Eileen would look at him; she was fixed on Reverend Day.
"You are obviously not a member of this company; may I ask what brings you to our corner of the world?"
"You could say I was a sort of tourist," said Jacob modestly. "A man enjoying his retirement, setting out to see the West..."
"What sort of community is this anyway?" asked Eileen, unable to stay her curiosity. "I'm assuming you're in charge here, so I mean, what's the point of it all? What's the purpose?"
Reverend Day turned to her for the first time, and she felt the force of his gaze hit her like a physical blow; his expression appeared casual, even friendly, but the power in his eyes sickened her, turning her stomach. The blood drained from her face; she had to look away.
"To serve God, Miss Temple," said the Reverend modestly. "And his son and Savior, Jesus Christ. As should we all. I'm sorry, weren't you given a copy of our flier? It contains all the basic information one should know about us. We hand one out to each of our visitors when they arrive."
He wants me to look at him, realized Eileen; he wants me to and I mustn't; I can feel his mind scratching at me like a spider trying to find a way to crawl inside my head.
"Forgive me for making the observation," said Jacob, keenly aware of her distress, trying to pull the man's attention off her, "but it seemed to me your flier was more concerned with the many things one shouldn't do."
Day turned slowly back to Jacob; his look hardened, just short of anger. "You might recall, sir, that even God gave us his thou-shalt-nots."
Doesn't like to be contradicted, thought Jacob. Certainly he's not used to anyone taking exception with him—and with eyes like those in his head, who in his right mind would want to? Well, go ahead and do your worst to an old man, you monster, but harm a hair on this woman's head and I'll make you regret the day you were born.
"Only ten of them," said Jacob. "You've got fifty."
"Strict obedience to God's will is a difficult and challenging path for any man to follow," said Day. "We make no claims of perfection, Mr. Stern, we merely strive for it."
"The world would applaud you for it. Why hide yourself away like this?"
"The world... is a wicked place, as I am sure in your travels you have not failed to notice. Our hope is to build a better world for ourselves within the confines of our City. That's why I call my home the House of Hope. And we expect visitors to respect our efforts, and our values, even if they don't necessarily agree with them."
"Respect, certainly," said Jacob.
Don't provoke him, Jacob; ease up.
The Reverend's eyes stayed fixed on Jacob, kindling a realization and deeper interest. "Are you by any chance a man of God yourself, Mr. Stern?"
Jacob's eyes met Eileen's briefly; now she was trying to warn him off.
"You might say so," said Jacob. "I'm a rabbi."
"Of course, now it makes sense to me," said Reverend Day. "We have more than a few of your Israelite brethren among our number here, along with all the other failed faiths—converted, of course, to our way—but at one time sharing your beliefs."
"Win a few, lose a few," said Jacob, with a shrug.
The Reverend smiled patiently. "I would not wish to impose upon my guests the rigor of a theological debate, but perhaps you would care to sit with me, tomorrow, Rabbi Jacob Stern, and discuss our ... differences."
"I welcome the opportunity, Reverend. But I must warn you that converting to Judaism is a very serious undertaking."
"In the service of God's Holy Work," said Day with a smile, "that is a risk one must always be willing to embrace."
Reverend Day turned back to Bendigo Rymer, who had been sitting motionless throughout and who now, blinking his eyes rapidly, appeared to emerge from a deep hypnotic trance.
"I trust you found our humble theater to your liking, Mr. Rymer," said Day, rising to his feet.
"Yes; wonderful, sir," said Rymer, deeply moved by the man's solicitude. "Marvelous facilities; thank you ever so much."
"Splendid. I cannot tell you how greatly we look forward to your performance tomorrow night," said Day.
Reverend Day bowed stiffly and quickly left the room. Jacob put a hand to his forehead, trying to contain the throbbing pain that suddenly collected there; Eileen moved to him in concern.
The rest of the Players, who felt as if they'd been holding their breath for an hour, let out a collective sigh of relief.
Walks Alone knocked softly on the train compartment door. No answer. She reached to knock again, and Jack Sparks threw open the door, a pistol in his hand, furious at the intrusion. She remained calm and waited for him to speak.
"What do you want?"
"May I come in?" she asked.
"Why?"
She looked at him, pushing gently through the wall of anger he had built around himself. Jack dropped his look, tucking the gun back in his belt. He held the door open for her; closed and locked it after she entered.
She sat, carefully controlling her breathing in order to send no harsh signals into the room; after a few tense moments, Jack sat across from her.
"I want to tell you about my dream," she said.
After a few moments: "Go ahead."
He watched her with a cold, impatient scowl. She took another deep breath; how she began was most important.
"In my dream the earth is my mother; my father is the sky. They are apart but they live side by side, touching each other along the horizon, in balance. Because they are in harmony, the animals are born into the world, each in the image of the gods who share the heavens and the earth. The people are the last creatures to appear; they take the longest to create."
"Why?"
"They carry the most responsibility...."
"What does that mean?"
"They are the only ones who are given both light and darkness. Animals obey their gods without questioning; they know only goodness; the people are the only ones who must listen to both sides. They are the only ones who must decide."
"Decide what?"
"Which side is stronger in them."
She met his eyes briefly; anger flashed in him before she looked away.
"Did he send you here?" said Jack, jerking his head at the wall he shared with Doyle's compartment.
"I am only telling you my dream," she said simply, waiting.
"All right," he said finally.
"In my dream, the people have fallen from balance; they have forgotten that they were born from both earth and sky. Their minds grow strong but their hearts are closed; they have lost respect for the other animals and their gods. The people now believe they found their own way to the earth and that they are here alone, separate from the rest of creation. Their minds are strong, but by deciding to follow this path they have turned away from truth.
"This creates an emptiness in them. Into this emptiness come thoughts from the mind, thoughts that speak without the voice of the heart. Thoughts of power and controlling others. Darkness. This is how the wound begins to open."