"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."
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.
"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:
"Because I need someone to talk to."
"What do you think of the path I've chosen--the Tradition of the Moon?"
The Magus needed to tell the truth, even though he wished the truth was different.
"It was your path. Wicca is quite right. You are a witch. You will learn to use Time's memory to discover the lessons that God taught."
And he wondered why life was like this, why he had met his Soul Mate only to find that the one way she could learn was through the Tradition of the Moon.
"I only have one more question," said Brida. It was getting late; soon there would be no more buses. "I need to know the answer, and I know that Wicca won't teach it to me. I know this because she's a woman like me. She'll always be my Teacher, but on this topic, she'll always be a woman. I want to know how to find my Soul Mate."
"He's right here with you," thought the Magus, but again he said nothing. He went over to one corner of the room and turned out the lights. Only a kind of acrylic sculpture remained lit. Brida hadn't noticed it when she came in. It contained some sort of liquid, and bubbles rose and fell inside it, filling the room with red and blue lights.
"We've met twice now," said the Magus, his eyes fixed on the sculpture. "I only have permission to teach through the Tradition of the Sun. The Tradition of the Sun awakens in people the ancestral knowledge that they possess."
"How do I find my Soul Mate through the Tradition of the Sun?"
"That's what everyone here on Earth is searching for," the Magus said, unwittingly echoing Wicca's words. "Perhaps they'd been taught by the same Teacher," Brida thought.