During the night, he asked Adelie: "I'm supposed to fight him with my
hands, is that it? Or with simple weapons of some kind? And this will
prove to the worshippers all over the Universe or to the Shadows that
either my or Mayron's way of life is right?"
"Yes," she said. "And you _are_ very strong. I'm sure you will win. I
was sure when I suggested it to Mayron. He's so completely confident--I
knew I could trick him into it."
Later, he asked her: "Tell me--was there a famous weapon poet in First
City?" And he took her hand, not letting go of it. When she asked him,
once, hesitantly, why he had broken the gun, he answered honestly:
"Because it seemed hateful." And other than that, they said very little
to each other during that night, and whatever they did say had about
as much truth in it as all the things they had said or he had been
told from the first moment of his awakening. He did not sleep. For one
thing, he felt no need of it. For another, he was frightened. He did
not want to be a Shadow....
In the morning he had forgotten fear. Steps led from the temple to a
pathway that wound down toward the city. He stood for a moment at their
head, with the altar burning behind him, and then stepped out into the
morning, with Adelie and Vigil following.
There were people waiting out there. They lined the path, murmuring
among themselves. As he strode along they fell in behind him, leaving
behind the temporary shelters they had put up when they fled from the
city and took refuge here.
"Sheep," Vigil snorted as he padded through the dust beside Greaves.
"All right, _let_ them see you brought down. I'll make another gun--if
your stupidity hasn't robbed me of the time I need--and then they'll
see...."
"I'm sure that if I lose today, Mayron will give you all the time you
need. Maybe he'll even send that same Shadow poet back to you with
whatever story you'll believe this time."
"What--?" Vigil stammered.
"What did he tell you? That he would create the gun for you because he
hated the Shadows, even though he was a Shadow? Did he tell you how
he remembered how fine it was to be a man? Is _that_ the story you
believed? You simple, credulous murderer! And you repaid him by testing
it on him. As he well suspected you might. It's not only humans who can
be brave. Or sacrifice themselves for the ferocity of their race. Or
were you too busy taking Humanity's name in vain to ever consider that?
_You_ never dreamed that gun. Not you--you may be foolish, but you
don't hate this Universe."