The Best of Gene Wolfe

“And he explained about his work and all that, and he took up a collection for it and you went to sleep. You were running that fever again, and Mr. Parker and me couldn’t wake you up much.”

“I had a dream,” Little Tib said, and then he told Nitty all about his dream.

“When you thought you were drinking that tea, that was me giving you your medicine, is what I think. Only it wasn’t hot tea; it was ice water. And that wasn’t a dream you had; it was a nightmare.”

“I thought it was kind of nice,” Little Tib said. “The king was right there, and you could talk to him and explain what had happened.” His hands found a little table next to the bed. There was a lamp on it. He knew he could not see when the bulb lit, but he made the switch go click with his fingers anyway. “How did we get here?” he asked.

“Well, after the collection, when everybody had left, that Dr. Prithivi was hot to talk to you. But me and Mr. Parker said you were with us and we wouldn’t let him unless you had a place to sleep. We told him how you were sick, and all that. So he transferred some money to Mr. Parker’s account, and we rented this room. He says he always sleeps in his bus to look after that Deva.”

“Is that where he is now?”

“No, he’s downtown talking to the people. Probably I should have told you, but it’s the day after you did that, now. You slept a whole day full, and a little more.”

“Where’s Mr. Parker?”

“He’s looking around.”

“He wants to see if that latch on that window is still broken, doesn’t he? And if I’m really little enough to get between those bars.”

“That’s one thing, yes.”

“It was nice of you to stay with me.”

“I’m supposed to tell Dr. Prithivi when you’re awake. That was part of our deal.”

“Would you have stayed anyway?” Little Tib was climbing out of bed. He had never been in a motel before, though he did not want to say so, and he was eager to explore this one.

“Somebody would have had to stay with you.” Little Tib could hear the faint whistles of the numbers on the telephone.

Later, when Dr. Prithivi came, he made Little Tib sit in a big chair with puffy arms. Little Tib told him about the dancing and how it had felt.

“You can see a bit, I think. You are not entirely blind.”

Little Tib said, “No,” and Nitty said, “The doctor in Howard told us he didn’t have any retinas. How is anybody going to see if they don’t have retinas?”

“Ah, I understand, then. Someone told you, I think, about my bus—the pictures I have made on the sides of it. Yes, that must be it. Did they tell you?”

“Tell me about what?” Little Tib asked.

Talking to Nitty, Dr. Prithivi said, “You have described the paintings on the side of my bus to this child?”

“No,” Nitty said. “I looked at them when I got in, but I never talked about them.”

“Yes, indeed, I did not think so. It was not likely, I think, that you had seen it before I stopped for you on the road, and you were in my presence after that. Nevertheless, there is a picture on the left side of my bus that is a picture of a man with a lion’s head. It is Vishnu destroying the demon Hiranyakasipu. Is it not interesting that this boy, arriving in a vehicle with such a picture, should be led to dance on air by a lion-headed figure? It was Vishnu also who circled the universe in two strides; this is a kind of dancing on air, perhaps.”

“Uh-huh,” Nitty said. “But George here couldn’t have seen that picture.”

“But perhaps the picture saw him—that is the point you are missing. Still, the lion has many significations. Among the Jews, it is the emblem of the tribe of Judah. For this reason the Emperor of Ethiopia is styled Lion of Judah. Also the son-in-law of Mohammed, whose name I cannot recall now when I need it, was styled Lion of God. Christianity too is very rich in lions. You noticed perhaps that I asked the boy particularly if the lion he saw had wings. I did that because a winged lion is the badge of Saint Mark. But a lion without wings indicates the Christ— this is because of the old belief that the cubs of the lion are dead at birth, and are licked to life afterward by the lioness. In the writings of Sir C. S. Lewis a lion is used in that way, and in the prayers revealed to Saint Bridget of Sweden the Christ is styled ‘Strong Lion, immortal and invincible King.’ ”

“And it is the lion that will lay down with the lamb when the time comes,” Nitty said. “I don’t know much, maybe, about all this, but I know that. And the lamb is about the commonest symbol for Jesus. A little boy—that’s a sign for Jesus too.”

Mr. Parker’s voice said, “How do either of you know God had anything to do with it?” Little Tib could tell that it was a new voice to Nitty and Dr. Prithivi—besides, Mr. Parker was talking from farther away, and after he said that he came over and sat on the bed, so that he was closest of all.

“The hand of the god is in all, Mr. Parker,” Dr. Prithivi told him. “Should you prove that it is not to be found, it would be the not-finding. And the not-found, also.”

“All right, that’s a philosophical position that cannot be attacked, since it already contains the refutation of any attack. But because it can’t be attacked, it can’t be demonstrated either—it’s simply your private belief. My point is that that wasn’t what you were talking about. You were trying to find a real, visible, apparent Hand of God—to take His fingerprints. I’m saying they may not be there. The dancing lion may be nothing more than a figment of George’s imagination—a dancing lion. Levitation—which is what that was—has often been reported in connection with other paranormal abilities.”

“This may be so,” Dr. Prithivi said, “but possibly we should ask him. George, when you were dancing with the lion man, did you perhaps feel it to be the god?”

“No,” Little Tib said, “an angel.”