“Yes? What of it?”
“He squints. Is his vision impaired?”
“It is not.”
“Then why does he squint?”
“To better study the seed.”
“Study? That is not the Way, as once he taught it. Yet he does study. He does not meditate, seeking within the object that which leads to release of the subject. No.”
“What then does he do?”
“The reverse.”
“The reverse?”
“He does study the object, considering its ways, in an effort to bind himself. He seeks within it an excuse to live. He tries once more to wrap himself within the fabric of Maya, the illusion of the world.”
“I believe you are right, Tak!” It was Ratri who had spoken. “How can we assist him in his efforts?”
“I am not certain, mistress.”
Yama nodded, his dark hair glistening in a bar of sunlight that fell across the narrow porch.
“You have set your finger upon the thing I could not see,” he acknowledged. “He has not yet fully returned, though he wears a body, walks upon human feet, talks as we do. His thought is still beyond our ken.”
“What then shall we do?” repeated Ratri.
“Take him on long walks through the countryside,” said Yama. “Feed him delicacies. Stir his soul with poetry and song. Find him strong drink to drink—there is none here in the monastery. Garb him in bright-hued silks. Fetch him a courtesan or three. Submerge him in living again. It is only thus that he may be freed from the chains of God. Stupid of me not to have seen it sooner . . .”
“Not really, deathgod,” said Tak.
The flame that is black leapt within Yama’s eyes, and then he smiled. “I am repaid, little one,” he acknowledged, “for the comments I, perhaps thoughtlessly, let fall upon thy hairy ears. I apologize, ape-one. You are truly a man, and one of wit and perception.”
Tak bowed before him.
Ratri chuckled.
“Tell us, clever Tak—for mayhap we have been gods too long, and so lack the proper angle of vision—how shall we proceed in this matter of rehumanizing him, so as to best serve the ends we seek?”
Tak bowed him then to Ratri.
“As Yama has proposed,” he stated. “Today, mistress, you take him for a walk in the foothills. Tomorrow, Lord Yama conducts him as far as the edge of the forest. The following day I shall take him amidst the trees and the grasses, the flowers and the vines. And we shall see. We shall.”
“So be it,” said Yama, and so it was.
In the weeks that followed, Sam came to look forward to these walks with what appeared at first a mild anticipation, then a moderate enthusiasm, and finally a blazing eagerness. He took to going off unaccompanied for longer and longer stretches of time: at first, it was for several hours in the morning; then, morning and evening. Later, he stayed away all day, and on occasion a day and a night.
At the end of the third week, Yama and Ratri discussed it on the porch in the early hours of morning.
“This thing I do not like,” said Yama. “We cannot insult him by forcing our company upon him now, when he does not wish it. But there is danger out there, especially for one born again such as he. I would that we knew how he spends his hours.”
“But whatever he does, it is helping him to recover,” said Ratri, gulping a sweetmeat and waving a fleshy hand. “He is less withdrawn. He speaks more, even jesting. He drinks of the wine we bring him. His appetite is returning.”
“Yet, if he should meet with an agent of Trimurti, the final doom may come to pass.”
Ratri chewed slowly. “It is not likely, though, that such should be abroad in this country, in these days,” she stated. “The animals will see him as a child and will not harm him. Men would consider him a holy hermit. The demons fear him of old, and so respect him.”
But Yama shook his head. “Lady, it is not so simple. Though I have dismantled much of my machinery and hidden it hundreds of leagues from here, such a massive trafficking of energies as I employed cannot have passed unnoticed. Sooner or later this place will be visited. I used screens and baffling devices, but this general area must have appeared in certain quarters as though the Universal Fire did a dance upon the map. Soon we must move on. I should prefer to wait until our charge is fully recovered, but. . .”