“Look at the other customers,” Brida said. “They probably come here every night. They probably always do the same thing.”
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The Magus was suddenly not so sure that Brida really did consider herself to be the same as everyone else.
“You concern yourself too much with other people,” he replied. “They’re a mirror of yourself.”
“Yes, I know. I thought I knew what made me happy and what made me sad, then suddenly I realized that I need to think again.
But it’s very hard.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Love. I know a man who makes me feel complete. Three days ago, he showed me that his world is full of mysteries, too, and that I’m not alone.”
The Magus remained impassive, but he was remembering the thought he’d had earlier about God’s blessings sometimes shattering windows.
“Do you love him?”
“What I’ve realized is that I could love him still more. Even if I learn nothing new on this path, at least I will have learned one important thing: we have to take risks.”
He had been making great plans for that night as they walked down the mountain. He wanted to show how much he needed her, to show that he was just like other men, weary of so much solitude. But all she wanted were answers to her questions.
“There’s something strange about the air here,” Brida said. The atmosphere appeared to have changed.
“It’s the Messengers,” said the Magus. “Artificial demons, those who do not form part of God’s Left Arm, those who do not lead us to the light.”
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His eyes were shining. Something really had changed, and there he was talking about demons.
“God created the legion of His Left Arm in order to improve us, so that we would know what to do with our mission,” he went on. “But He put man in charge of concentrating the powers of darkness and creating his own demons.”
And that was what he was doing now.
“But we can concentrate the forces of good, too,” said the girl, somewhat alarmed.
“No, we can’t.”
He needed to be distracted, if only she would ask him something. He didn’t want to create a demon. In the Tradition of the Sun, they were called Messengers, and they could do great good or great evil—only the most important Teachers were allowed to invoke them. He was one of those Teachers, but he didn’t want to invoke such a Messenger now, because a Messenger could be a dangerous force, especially when mixed up with disappointments in love.
Brida was confused by his response. The Magus was behaving strangely.
“We can’t concentrate the Forces of Good,” he said again, trying hard to focus on what he was saying. “The Force for Good is always diffused, like Light. When you give off positive vibrations, you benefit all humankind, but when you concentrate the force of the Messenger, you are only benefiting—or harming—yourself.”
His eyes were still shining. He called over the bartender and paid the bill.
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“Let’s go to my place,” he said. “I’m going to make some tea and you can tell me about the really important questions in your life.”
Brida hesitated. He was an attractive man, and she was an attractive woman. That night, she feared, might put an end to her apprenticeship.
“I must take risks,” she said to herself again.
The Magus lived a little way outside the village. Brida noticed that although his house was very different from Wicca’s, it was equally comfortable and just as tastefully decorated. However, there wasn’t a book in sight; it was mainly empty space and a few bits of furniture.
They went into the kitchen to make tea, then came back to the living room.
“Why did you come here today?” asked the Magus.
“I promised myself that I would, once I knew something.”
“And what do you know?”
“Well, I know a little. I know that the path is simple and therefore more difficult than I thought. But I will simplify my soul. Anyway, my first question is: ‘Why are you wasting your time with me?’”
“Because you’re my Soul Mate,” thought the Magus, but he said:
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