“If Fuasoi sent you after me,” Mainoa said thoughtfully, “he could have had only one reason. If he didn’t want knowledge about the cause of the plague disseminated, then he must have been a Moldy.”
Marjorie caught her breath. A Moldy here? Already? Had they been too late!
Highbones ignored the interchange. He put both feet onto the deck, stood up easily, stretching. “You boys ready?” he asked. “Each of you take one of the geezers. I get the woman first—“
“Highbones.” The voice called from above them, from the sun spangle among the high branches. “Highbones the coward. High-bones the liar. Will he climb?”
Marjorie felt the breath go out of her. Rillibee. But only Rillibee. No other voices.
Highbones had turned, neck craning as he searched the high dazzle. “Lourai!” he shouted. “Where are you, you peeper!”
“Here,” the voice called from above. “Where Highbones can’t climb. Where Highbones can’t reach.”
“Keep them quiet,” Highbones snarled, gesturing toward Marjorie and the old men. “Until I get back.” He leapt upon the railing and outward, into the trees “Wait for me, peeper. I’m coming to get you.”
Marjorie’s pack was just inside the door There was a knife in it. She turned, moving toward it. Steeplehands dashed forward, intercepted her, and knocked her away from the door. She stumbled, reaching out a hand to catch herself. The low railing caught her at the back of her knees, and she went over, falling, seeing the sun-spangled foliage spin around her and hearing her own voice soaring until she suddenly didn’t hear anything anymore.
“A very small being to see you, O God,” the angelic servitor announced. The servitor looked very much like Father Sandoval except that he had wings. Marjorie paused in the vaulted and gauzy doorway to inspect them. They were not swans wings, which she had expected, but translucent insect wings, like those of a giant dragonfly. Anatomically, they made more sense than bird wings, since they were in addition to, rather than in place of, the upper appendages. The angel glared at her.
“Yes, yes,” said God patiently. “Come in.”
God stood before a tall window draped in cloud. Outside were the gardens of Opal Hill, stretching away in vista upon vista. After a moment, Marjorie realized the garden was made of stars.
“How do you do,” Marjorie heard herself saying. He looked like someone she knew. Smaller than she had thought He would be. Very bony about the face, with huge eyes, though the person she knew, whoever he was, had never worn his hair as long as God wore His, a dark curling about his shoulders, a white mane at his temples. “Welcome, very small being,” He said, smiling. Light filled the universe. “Was something bothering you?”
“I can learn to accept that you do not know my name,” Marjorie said. “Though it came as a shock—“
“Wait,” He said. “I know the true names of everything. What do you mean I do not know your name?”
“I mean you don’t know I’m Mariorie.”
“Marjorie,” he mouthed, as though He found the sound unfamiliar. “True, I did not know you were called Marjorie.”
“It seems very harsh. Very cruel. To be a virus.”
“I would not have said virus, but you believe it’s cruel to be something that will spread?” he asked. “Even if that’s what’s needed?” She nodded, ashamed.
“You must be having a difficult time. Very small beings do have difficult times. That’s what I create them for. If there weren’t difficult concepts to pull out of nothing and build into creation. One wouldn’t need very small beings. The large parts almost make themselves.” He gestured at the universe spinning beneath them. “Elementary chemistry, a little exceptional mathematics, and there it is, working away like a furnace. It’s the details that take time to grow, to evolve, to become. The oil in the bearings, so to speak. What are you working on now?”
“I’m not sure,” she said.
The angel in the doorway spoke impatiently. “The very small being is working on mercy, Sir. And justice. And guilt.”
“Mercy? And justice? Interesting concepts. Almost worthy of direct creation rather than letting them evolve. I wouldn’t waste my time on guilt. Still, I have confidence you’ll all work your way through the permutations to the proper ends….”