The Shadow and Night by Chris Walley Page B

not be long delayed, and there are others that think that the King’s Peace may yet continue for many more thousands of years. Some among the sentinels even speculate that the Assembly of the Firstborn may itself not be complete until the whole galaxy is under his name. After all, did not our Lord plainly say that, at the end, the elect would be gathered ‘from the ends of the heavens’? Indeed, it may be that in the history of the Assembly, all that we have seen so far may simply be the first chapter.”
    â€œWhether we are at the dawn or evening of the Assembly is sometimes discussed on Farholme,” Merral replied softly, “but we are mostly too busy about the present to be concerned about a distant future. Such questions are not a specialization here. I personally hold no opinion on the timing of the Messiah’s Return other than to await it with certainty and hope.”
    Vero paused in his stride and gestured up with his arms. “Good. And I hold no fixed opinion. Indeed, there is no contradiction. We plan for a much greater Assembly but we are prepared that the Return and the Remaking may take place before tomorrow dawns. But, on either view, most people consider that rampant evil is a thing of the past.”
    He turned, and Merral could see his eyes shining in the faint light. “Now here, the sentinels interject a note of caution. You see, we believe that the devil—the enemy—is not dead, just cast down; he is not destroyed, but merely bound. We find no guarantee that, even under these conditions, evil cannot return. We insist that the Assembly must watch, listen, and pray. That is the only task of the sentinels: to watch out for a new rise of evil.” He paused. “Well, that’s the theory.”
    â€œI see,” answered Merral, struggling with the concepts. “We are nearly there—it’s just up these stairs. I suppose I understand that. But what exactly are you looking for? Do you know, when I first heard about sentinels as a child, I thought you watched out for aliens.”
    â€œAliens?” Vero laughed gently. “No, they have never figured in sentinel thought. Even in Moshe Adlen’s day humanity had realized they were alone. The probability of intelligent life elsewhere had become vanishingly small. Bacteria, yes, but nothing else. And everything since has confirmed that view.”
    â€œOh, it was a childish fantasy of mine. But what are you looking for?”
    Vero’s answer was slow in coming and strangely hesitant when it came, “We do not know. Anomalies, oddities, changes.”
    â€œSounds like everything and anything.”
    There was a long—and to Merral, very significant—silence before Vero spoke again. “Ah . . . that is the problem.”
    How interesting. He seems to have his reservations. But Merral felt it would have been ungenerous to pursue the matter and gestured Vero onward.
    Soon they turned down a small, narrow street with a single line of trees down the middle and flanked on each side by winding terraces of four-story houses. He began checking the names at the doors, but in the end the sound of the dance music gave away the location.
    â€œInteresting, Vero, but I’m still only a little wiser. Anyway, here we are.”
    â€œHello! Guests!” he called in as he opened the door. Vandra, the former warden’s wife, squeezed past a crowd of relatives and neighbors and came down the hall to greet them. In the next few minutes, Merral found himself immersed in a sea of introductions and repeated requests to stay for food and for the dances. The hosts had opened the doors between three adjacent houses to make a single, long, extended room, but even so, it was still full and barely large enough for the dancing. As Vero was introduced, Merral gradually slipped back so that he stood against the wall. There he stood watching as the next dance started. When the dance—a