“Mr. Mercy,” the figure said, “we've decided. I won't keep you in suspense; we'll make the invitation."

“Oh,” John said, “Good. What time is it?"

“Around midnight; we figured we'd let you know now, so you wouldn't have a chance to slip away in the morning before we could talk to you."

“Why would I want to do that?"

“Oh, I don't know-we've had a swindler or two come through here. And Mr. Mercy, if you're one of them, if you've lied or deceived us about this, I just want you to know that around here we skin our enemies alive.” Before John could reply, the figure retreated back through the doorway and out of sight.

John stared after him. He had thought that the people of Savior's Grace were some of the calmest, friendliest, most sensible folk he had yet encountered, but this midnight visitation disproved that. Some of them, at any rate, were just as unpleasant as people anywhere else, and their behavior just as unpredictable. He hoped that nothing would be done that might disrupt his plans.

He worried for perhaps five minutes before falling asleep again.

In the morning, when he had arisen, washed, and dressed, he met with a deputation of the townsfolk, who confirmed what his midnight visitor had said, even providing a written document to that effect. That done, Seth Bound-for-Glory apologized for the nocturnal intrusion.

“Don't pay old Hezekiah any mind,” he said. “He's impatient and mistrustful, that's all. You just go tell your corporation that the Free People of Savior's Grace want them to come here and talk to us, and that they can use that flat piece of pasture land at the foot of the hill here for their ships."

John nodded. “Thank you; I'll get moving just as soon as I can. If anyone could lend me a horse, or better still two, for me and my comrade here, we'd make better time…” He stopped upon seeing the expressions of the half dozen men facing him go hard.

“Mr. Mercy, it's not that we don't trust you,” Bound-for-Glory said, “but all we have is your word, and you haven't shown us a dime. This could all be just a ways of talking us out of two horses, you see. I don't reckon we can spare any."

John looked around, then nodded. “I understand. God be with you, then-I'll be back as soon as I can.” His meager supplies were already packed; he slung the sack on his shoulder and marched out of the village without further conversation, Thaddeus close behind. He had no money for horses or airship fare; even when they reached the protectorate they would still have to walk the entire way, unless someone took pity on them. John knew that was unlikely.

They were perhaps halfway to the Citadel when the first snows began, and the going got steadily rougher; John began to wonder whether he would make it before Anno Domini 2593 gave way to Anno Domini 2594, but on December 20th he looked up at an unfamiliar sound and saw a gleaming metal something rising straight up into the sky. After a moment's astonishment he recognized it as one of the ships that came and went from the field beside the Corporate Headquarters of the People of Heaven, and that meant that he was almost to the Citadel.

He had never seen one of the starships flying in daylight before; they had always taken off and landed under cover of darkness, showing no lights.

It flashed in the sun's ruddy glow, dwindled, and vanished; John stood for a moment staring after it. It was a beautiful thing, he admitted that readily, despite his hatred of what it represented.

They reached the Citadel in the midst of a blizzard on the twenty-third, and after making their way through the empty streets found Miriam waiting at the Righteous House. She hurried them to a table, wrapped blankets about their shoulders, and supplied them with hot beef stew and herbal brew.

When he had recovered sufficiently to speak, Thaddeus announced, “Captain, I've had all I can take. I wish you luck, but I'm not going back to Savior's Grace with you; I'm going home as soon as I can raise the fare for an airship ride to New Nazareth."

John nodded. “I don't blame you,” he said. “Go with my blessing."

They sat for a moment in silence, warming their bones.

Miriam sat down at the table and said, “Kwam? told me you were coming; he's been watching you when he could."

John looked at her. “Watching us how?"

“By satellite, mostly."

“Those things again.” He shook his head, then looked up at her. “Do you mean that the Heaveners have known where we were every step of the way?"

“Oh, I don't think so-Kwam? was keeping track of you, but I don't think anyone else was. The rumor seemed to be that you'd gone underground again, and no one was very concerned about it."

“They weren't?"

“I don't think so; I'm not really sure."

“They should have been. We found what we wanted.” He sipped his brew.

“Kwam? thought you had; he's been thinking about going out in one of the airships to get you, but he decided not to risk it-at least, until this blizzard hit. If you hadn't made it when you did he'd have come after you."

John did not find that reassuring, somehow; he suspected that Kwam? might well have waited just a little too long, thereby keeping a clear conscience while ridding himself of potential trouble-and of course, potential profit as well. Before he could think of anything appropriate to say, the door of the inn slammed open, caught by the wind, and Kwam? himself stepped in, wrapped in a dull gray cloak.

John noted that somehow, none of the wet, driven snow had stuck to the garment; Kwam? was able to take it off and fold it up without shaking it out. Not only was there no snow adhering to it, it looked dry. Another bit of Earther technology, John thought with resignation. Even miracles could lose their savor when they came too often, and the Earthers seemed to produce one minor miracle after another, without let-up.

“You made it,” Kwam? said as he sank into the table's only remaining vacant chair.

John nodded. “So we did,” he said.

The Earther seemed uncertain of what to say next, so John went on, “We got the invitation, from a village called Savior's Grace up in Isachar-they call themselves the Free People, but so do a lot of independent villages. There's a big meadow at the foot of the hillside they're on that should be just about large enough for the landing site.” He pulled out the document Bound-for-Glory had given him.

Kwam? accepted it, unrolled it and began reading. John interrupted to ask, “What happened to Stephen Christ-is-Risen?"

Kwam? looked up. “Who?"

“Stephen Christ-is-Risen, Shepherd of the People of Heaven."

“Oh, you mean the preacher here? He's out on Fomalhaut II, I think-wanted to preach the word to the heathen, I suppose."

“He's alive?"

Kwam? lowered the document. “Of course he's alive! Why wouldn't he be?"

“The rumor in Spiritus Sancti is that you people murdered him when he got in your way."

“Oh, no! We couldn't get away with that. He just felt useless after we started running everything; his last few meetings didn't get more than a dozen people. When he complained, Ricky Dawes offered him free transportation anywhere in the Confederacy, and he took it."

“He did?"

“Sure, why not? What is there here on Godsworld for him?"

“It's his home."

“So what? He's a preacher-he wanted people to preach to, and the people here weren't interested any more. They have plenty of preachers. Out on Fomalhaut II organized religion was outlawed for a couple of centuries, so the miners are eager for interesting preachers."

“Oh.” John found it impossible to answer intelligently. Kwam? and the other Earthers knew so much more than he did, about the universe and everything in it, that he often found himself feeling like a stupid child when talking with them. Changing the subject, he tapped the document. “How do you like your Christmas present?"