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throwing the novice’s pilgrim into the twilight region, into the same perspective as the old man’s first appearance
as a legless black strip that wriggled in the midst of a lake of heat illusion on the trail, into the same perspective
as he had occupied momentarily when the novice’s world had contracted until it contained nothing but a hand
offering him a particle of food. If some creature more-than-human chose to disguise itself as human,conan power leveling, how was he
to penetrate its disguise,lineage 2 power leveling, or suspect there was one? If such a creature did not wish to be suspected, would it not
remember to cast a shadow, leave footprints, eat bread and cheese? Might it not chew spice-leaf, spit at a lizard,
and remember to imitate the reaction of a mortal who forgot to put on his sandals before stepping on hot ground?
Francis was not prepared to estimate the intelligence or ingenuity of hellish or heavenly beings, or to guess the
extent of their histrionic abilities, although he assumed such creatures to be either hellishly or divinely clever.
The abbot, by raising the question at all, had formulated the nature of Brother Francis’ answer, which was: to
entertain the question itself, although he had not previously done so.
“Well, boy?”
“M’Lord Abbot, you don’t suppose he might have been?a”
“I’m asking you not to suppose. I’m asking you to be flatly certain. Was he, or was he not, an ordinary flesh-
and-blood person?”
The question was frightening. That the question was dignified by coming from the lips of so exalted a
person as his sovereign abbot made it even more frightening, though he could plainly see that his ruler stated it
merely because he wanted a particular answer. He wanted it rather badly. If he wanted it that badly, the question
must be important. If the question was important enough for an abbot, then it was far too important for Brother
Francis who dared not be wrong.
“I-I think he was flesh and blood, Reverend Father, but not exactly “ordinary.” In some ways, he was rather
extraordinary.”
“What ways?” Abbot Arkos asked sharply.
“Like-how straight he could spit. And he could read, I think.”
The abbot dosed his eyes and rubbed his temples in apparent exasperation. How easy it would have been
flatly to have told the boy that his pilgrim was only an old tramp of some kind, and then to have commanded him
not to think otherwise. But by allowing the boy to see that a question was possible,aoc power leveling, he had rendered such a
command ineffective before he uttered it. Insofar as thought could be governed at all, it could only be
commanded to follow what reason affirmed anyhow; command it otherwise, and it would not obey. Like any
wise ruler, Abbot Arkos did not issue orders vainly, when to disobey was possible and to enforce was not
possible. It was better to look the other way than to command ineffectually. He had asked a question that he
himself could not answer by reason, having never seen the old man,l2 adena, and had thereby lost the right to make the
answer mandatory.
“Get out,” he said at last, without opening his eyes.
5
Somewhat mystified by the commotion at the abbey, Brother Francis returned to the desert that same day to
complete his Lenten vigil in rather wretched solitude. He had expected some excitement about the relics to arise,
but the excessive interest which everyone had taken in the old wanderer surprised him. Francis had spoken of the