FROM DYAN'S JOURNAL
I had long been fascinated by Cawdour's stories about the ancient race of gods that had dwelled upon the earth before it was totally given over to the province of Man.
"What happened to the old gods, Sire?" I once inquired. “If they are immortal, how could they vanish? If they were supreme, who could have compelled them to go from this land to the Western Isles?”
"They still live, my boy,” he told me. “They are not wholly supreme, but that is a complex matter. They are with us more than we know, yet cannot be seen unless they wish it to be so. Our ancient heroes were the sons of gods, but they no longer condescend to merge their divinity with our mortal clay. But never think that they have lost interest in us, their earthly kin."
"How do they demonstrate this interest?”
Cawdour shook his sage head. "Each of us has a guardian spirit, Rodin. I have one myself. My guide through life comes to me in dreams sometimes, or as a voice in my meditations, imparting wisdom. Sometimes he approaches me in the trappings of a beast, or as a man or woman -- and when he does so, the god seems just as substantial as you or I."
"What is he then, a male or a female?"
"He is pure spirit, lad, and spirit has no sex. A god may change his shape as easily as you or I change our clothing."
"Well, I'm quite sure that I've never met a god," I remarked.
"Without the Blood, one is rarely favored with a personal visitation, but they are near nonetheless. That famous luck of yours must be a gift of their bestowing."
"My luck? I'm the most unlucky of men," I said.
"Everyone at your age believes that, my boy. But keeping a young hellion out of trouble is a tall order, even for a god. Our divine clansmen do much to protect us, as far as their rules allow, but there is a limit. It is for Fate alone to degree when our final hour has come."
"Are you saying that the power that stands above even the gods is Fate?"
The spellcaster stroked his beard. "So it is said."
* * * * *
UPON ON THE ROOFTOP
