A Miracle of Rare Design: A Tragedy of Transcendence by Mike Resnick

Author:Mike Resnick [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub

14.

“Who are you?” repeated Chomanche, with no change of expression.

“Can't you guess?”

The Firefly considered his answer for a long moment.

“I suspect that you are Xavier William Lennox, but I would like confirmation.”

“I am,” said Lennox, tensing. “And remember—I can reach you before any Fireflies can reachme .”

“Have you come to kill me?” asked Chomanche.

“Not unless you force me to,” said Lennox.

“Are you here for revenge?”

“No.”

Chomanche continued to stare at him. “This is not a mask or a costume,” he said at last.

“No.”

“You have actually changed your shape.”

“That's right.”

Chomanche reached out and touched him gingerly on the face and torso.

“Lean forward.”

Lennox leaned over, and Chomanche examined his wings. Finally he took one of Lennox's lean, long-fingered hands in his own and examined it minutely.

"Magic!"he exclaimed in an awed voice.

“Surgery,” replied Lennox.

“What is surgery?”

Lennox began explaining the process, but as he did so the Firefly kept grunting and shaking his head.

“This cannot be true,” he interrupted at last. “When I cut off your fingers, you did not grow new ones, either Man's orzhandi's . When I had your foot cut open, a new foot did not appear. No, Dromesche, this is magic.”

“It is a scientific procedure.”

“What prayers or chants were used?”

“Medical instruments were used, nothing more.”

“What instruments?”

“A scalpel—that's a form of knife. And various prosthetics—artificial limbs.”

“If I cut you, will you bleed?”

“Yes.”

“Then you were deceived,” said Chomanche. “Your limbs are not artificial. And if knives were used at all, then doubtless they were blessed by a priest and controlled by God Himself.”

I'm never going to win this argument. Besides, why should I bother? If he wants to think God has taken a special interest in me, why disillusion him?

“Only God could create a miracle such as this,” continued Chomanche. “It is beyond even the powers of the Pale One.”

“The Pale One?” repeated Lennox.

“He who stands opposed to God,” answered the priest.

Lennox remained silent as Chomanche reached out and touched him again.

“But why has God chosen to make you azhandi ?”

All right, we'll play it your way.

“I cannot know what is in the mind of God,” said Lennox carefully, hoping he wouldn't be accused of blasphemy, “but I have a theory.”

“What is it?”

“I was a Man, and I know that Men are not your enemies,” said Lennox. “They wish only to live in peace, and bring you the benefits of their knowledge. But if a Man were to tell you that, you would not believe him. I think God made me azhandi because you would believe the truth only from one of your own people.”

Chomanche remained motionless for a long moment, as if coping with the idea.

“It is possible,” he said at last.

It is? I wouldn't believe it for two seconds—but then, I'm not a major priest of a backward theocracy.

“It is possible,” repeated Chomanche, “but what is possible is not always right. You will live in my home, dine at my table, and before we are through I will know exactly why God has sent you here in this form.”

“I accept your hospitality,” said Lennox.

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