Free Forbidden Sanctuary by Richard Bowker Page B

it seems, can be based on a lie, but now we know the truth, and the truth will destroy this civilization like a rock shattering a hollow, decayed fossil."
    Tenon noticed one of the young peasants writing down Argal's words, and he started to realize that this was the beginning of something immense, that he was hearing words that would be remembered in a thousand generations the way the acts of the Ancients were remembered in his. But still there were doubts. "If a lie is so powerful," he asked, "how will the truth destroy it?"
    "Its time has come," Argal responded. "The lie is not what it once was. The crews still go off every twenty cycles to meet their fate, but there is confusion and fear beneath their brave façades. The priestesses still carry out the prescribed rituals, but there is boredom behind their gestures. The Council still rules, but the people feel free to grumble at their edicts. The entire planet is ready to listen, ready to believe. And that is precisely why Chitlan chose this moment to appear in our midst. We will be victorious, and there is not a power in the Universe that can stop us."
    And how often had Tenon heard those words spoken—by different hearths, to other new believers? Yet they never failed to thrill him. Often he lacked Argal's utter certainty in the final triumph, but he never lacked faith in him, or in Chitlan.
    A cold wind cut through him, as he realized again that Argal was gone. He was on his own; he had left those hearths behind forever.
    There were dwellings all around him now, but no sign of what he was looking for. Pray, he must pray. His legs must continue to move, he must fight off the tears....
    And eventually he saw it—sharply etched against the planet's bright half-moon, just as he had imagined it. Angela's words echoed in his mind: they put Him to death on a cross. And she herself had worn a tiny gold cross around her neck. Symbol of her faith.
    O, lucky people, who could display their symbols so openly! He rushed over the banks of snow to the building with the cross, joy and anticipation warming his frigid body. Across the walk, up the short flight of stairs...
    And the door was locked. Tenon stared at it in disbelief. That could not be. Then he reasoned: not everyone on the planet was a follower of Jesus. Perhaps there were still people who wanted to harm them. Of course they would lock their place of worship in that case. But certainly their chief priest or priestess would be inside—asleep, most likely, but eager to help a believer in trouble.
    He pounded on the door. No one came. He pounded again. His hands, already cut and raw from the wire of the fence, ached with the effort, but the door remained locked. Finally he gave up and started to walk around the building, looking for other entrances. They were all locked. There were windows, of course. He could break a window and get inside. But that would be desecration. That would not be allowed.
    He came around to the front again and sat on the steps, exhausted and fearful. Perhaps someone would open it up in the morning. But how long would it be until morning? He could not survive much longer without shelter. How much worse a death that would be—frozen on the very steps of their temple, his goal reached but meaningless.
    That could not happen. He struggled to think things through. It was clear that he had to get indoors. There were plenty of dwellings. Most of them were probably occupied. What he needed was one occupied by a follower of Jesus. But how would he know?
    He would have to take a chance. Which one?
    The one nearest the temple, obviously. Would someone who was not a follower of Jesus want to live next to one of His temples?
    Tenon got up and walked across a short pathway to the nearest dwelling. It was in darkness, like the temple. He stood in front of the door for a long time, summoning his courage. It has to be done, he told himself. There was no other way. He knocked.
    And knocked. And after an eternity a