“How, then, shall we accept the Carthogians, Master?” another asked.
“Accept them as the soldiers of Kroaxia, once their sworn enemies unto death,
have already accepted them—as comrades and brothers. No more shall robeing
murder robeing, but all shall work together to gain wisdom and understanding
until they are worthy to lift themselves into the skies and soar with the angels
that appeared over the Meracasine.”
“What sayest thou, Master—that we too shall fly?”
“Yes! Yes! All who have faith and believe in His Word shall fly with the shining
angels, just as I have flown with them. This I promise you.” The Enlightener
could feel the mood of the crowd, its desire to believe, willing that it should
be so. His eyes blazed, his skin shone in the light of the mid-bright sky, and
the expression burning from his face radiated the ecstasy that he felt as the
Lifemaker’s force surged through every chip and channel of his being. He
extended his arms to stand with his cloak spread wide above the crowd, and the
crowd roared as the waves of rapture flowed outward from the center to break
against the surrounding walls like methane breakers in a storm, crashing against
ice cliffs at the ocean’s edge.
“All are equal. We shall not be slaves!”
“We will work with our neighbors! We shall not kill!”
“When will we see the angels?”
The crowd’s emotions were at a peak. The Enlightener sensed his optimum moment
approaching. “I shall summon angels, and then every robeing will know I speak
truly,” he told them.
That was more than any mystic had ever offered before. “Show us the angels!”
they shouted back. “Summon the angels!”
“I shall command miracles that you may know I speak truly?”
“Show us miracles! Then we will know!”
“THEN BEHOLD YE HIS POWER!” the Enlightener thundered, and with a flourish drew
the praying-box from his pouch and held it high over his head. The whole square
erupted in shouts of wonder, and then quietened expectantly. The Enlightener
pressed the sacred button, and stabbing his finger upward, threw back his head.
“IN THE NAME OF THE LIFEMAKER, I COMMAND THE SKIES—OPEN AND DELIVER THY
WONDERS!”
Every face in the square tilted upward to peer at the heavens. Some of those
present were screaming. Some had collapsed into unconsciousness. The Enlightener
stood poised, waiting, still pointing at the sky. The crowd could see the
irresistible compulsion burning in his eyes, and feel the cosmic force streaming
from his outstretched finger. The moment was crushing, terrifying, overpowering.
They were inextricably a part of it now, and being swept along helplessly in a
flood tide of rising, swirling, passion and emotion. They watched, and waited.
They howled. They shouted.
And then, very suddenly, a silence descended and spread to cover the square from
one side to the other as completely as had the excitement only moments before.
All at once, seemingly, everyone had noticed that nothing was happening. All the
heads tilted back down and looked at each other quizzically. The Enlightener’s
image evaporated, and all that was left where he had stood was a foolish-looking
mystic holding a peculiar vegetable in the air. He lowered the vegetable and
jabbed at it frantically, still looking upward with a pleading expression on his
face. He shook his head in disbelief and tried again.
“Well?” a voice asked from somewhere.
“He’s just a fake,” someone else murmured, sounding disgusted.
“He was lying. Nothing but a fraud.”
“He speaks for no Lifemaker.”
“Blasphemer!” another voice shouted, sounding angrier now.
“Where art thy angels, O Enlightener?” someone called out mockingly.
“They are walking here like us, for are not all beings equal?” a voice answered,
and another laughed. More laughter began to rise up from all sides. A blob of
thick, black grease flew out of the crowd and squelched on the Enlightener’s
cloak. A piece of partly decomposed fuel cell followed, then a lump of organic
goo from one of the stalls, and within seconds the Enlightener was being pelted
down from the platform while the air filled with hoots, boos, and shouts of
derision.
“Here—give this to thy angels!”
“Did Kleippur send thee to make mockery of Kroaxia’s soldiers?”