“And we can see him?”
“You’d have to spend a week purifying yourselves before you can set foot on Atatua –”
“Impure feet tickling the Gods!” cried her husband, laughing uproariously. “That’s why they call it the Island of the Laughing God!”
Peter shifted uncomfortably.
“Don’t you like my husband’s jokes?” asked Grace.
“No, I think — I mean, they’re simply not — I don’t get them, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s because they’re not very funny,” said Grace. “But my husband is cheerfully determined to keep laughing through all this so he doesn’t get angry at you and kill you with his bare hands.”
Wang-mu gasped, for she knew at once that this was true; without realizing it, she had been aware all along of the rage seething under the huge man’s laughter, and when she looked at his calloused, massive hands, she realized that he could surely tear her apart without even breaking into a sweat.
“Why would you threaten us with death?” asked Peter, acting more belligerent than Wang-mu wished.
“The opposite!” said Grace. “I tell you that my husband is determined not to let rage at your audacity and blasphemy control his behavior. To try to visit Atatua without even taking the trouble to learn that letting you set foot there, uncleansed and uninvited, would shame us and filthy us as a people for a hundred generations — I think he’s doing rather well not to have taken a blood oath against you.”
“We didn’t know,” said Wang-mu.
“He knew,” said Grace. “Because he’s got the all-hearing ear.”
Peter blushed. “I hear what she says to me,” he said, “but I can’t hear what she chooses not to say.”
“So… you were being led. And Aimaina is right, you do serve a higher being. Voluntarily? Or are you being coerced?”
“That’s a stupid question, Mama,” said her daughter, belching again. “If they are coerced, how could they possibly tell you?”
“People can say as much by what they don’t say,” answered Grace, “which you’d know if you’d sit up and look at their eloquent faces, these lying visitors from other planets.”
“She’s not a higher being,” said Wang-mu. “Not like you mean it. Not a god. Though she does have a lot of control and she knows a lot of things. But she’s not omnipotent or anything, and she doesn’t know everything, and sometimes she’s even wrong, and I’m not sure she’s always good, either, so we can’t really call her a god because she’s not perfect.”
Grace shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about some Platonic god, some ethereal perfection that can never be understood, only apprehended. Not some Nicene paradoxical being whose existence is perpetually contradicted by his nonexistence. Your higher being, this jewel-friend your partner wears like a parasite — except who is sucking life from whom, eh? — she could well be a god in the sense that we Samoans use the word. You might be her hero servants. You might be her incarnation, for all I know.”
“But you’re a scholar,” said Wang-mu. “Like my teacher Han Fei-tzu, who discovered that what we used to call gods were really just genetically induced obsessions that we interpreted in such a way as to maintain our obedience to –”
“Just because your gods don’t exist doesn’t mean mine don’t,” said Grace.
“She must have tromped through acres of dead gods just to get here!” cried Grace’s husband, laughing uproariously. Only now that Wang-mu knew what his laughter really meant, his laugh filled her with fear.
Grace reached out and laid a huge, heavy arm across her slight shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “My husband is a civilized man and he’s never killed anybody.”
“Not for lack of trying!” he bellowed. “No, that was a joke!” He almost wept with laughter.
“You can’t go see Malu,” said Grace, “because we would have to purify you and I don’t think you’re ready to make the promises you’d have to make — and I especially don’t believe you’re ready to make them and actually mean what you say. And those are promises that must be kept. So Malu is coming here. He’s being rowed to this island right now — no motors for him, so I want you to know exactly how many people are sweating for hours and hours just so you can have your chat with him. I just want to tell you this — you are being given an extraordinary honor, and I urge you not to look down your noses at him and listen to him with some sort of academic or scientific superciliousness. I’ve met a lot of famous people, some of them even rather smart, but this is the wisest man you’ll ever know, and if you find yourself getting bored just keep this in mind: Malu isn’t stupid enough to think you can isolate facts from their context and have them still be true. So he always puts the things he says in their full context, and if that means you’ll have to listen to a whole history of the human race from beginning to now before he says anything you think is pertinent, well, I suggest you just shut up and listen, because most of the time the best stuff he says is accidental and irrelevant and you’re damn lucky if you have brains enough to notice what it is. Have I made myself clear?”