“I said,” Drakis spoke with only a slightly raised volume, “are you a god?”
The dwarf smiled in return, “Ah. . you want to know if I am a god?”
“Yes,” Drakis replied.
“I see. . well, that depends,” the dwarf said, turning back once more to examine the picture-writing carved into the wall in front of him.
Drakis stammered for a moment before he could continue. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Jugar turned back to the human, his pleasant smile still fixed between his round cheeks. “Oh, Drakis, my dear friend. . if someone ever asks you if you are a god, the only appropriate answer is-that depends!”
Drakis felt the warmth of his frustration rising into his face.
“Here, come walk with me for a while and I’ll explain,” Jugar said, turning to face back down the hall away from the garden. Drakis straightened slightly and fell into slow step next to the dwarf who still had his hands clasped in thought behind his back. “Let us assume that someone asks you, Drakis, if you are a god. If you were to answer them at once with a ‘no,’ then you would disappoint anyone who might have supported you, and, being embarrassed at their mistake and suddenly feeling you are much less than they expected of you. . well they would lose respect for you and not follow you at all. If they are your enemies and ask that question, then saying ‘no’ is just an invitation to have your land invaded and your people slaughtered. You follow me so far?”
“I think so,” Drakis said anxiously, “but I don’t see what this has to do with. .”
“On the other hand, if you were to answer ‘yes’ right away and all your supporters were following you based on your word that you were a god-and then it turned out that you weren’t a god but just some fellow who didn’t want to disappoint everyone by not being a god. . well, they’d probably stone you right there on the spot and end your career rather abruptly. Then your enemies would come in and invade your land anyway and slaughter your people, so the result would be much the same, right?”
“Yes, but. .”
“So the only reasonable answer is, ‘that depends,’ ” the dwarf concluded. “It doesn’t commit you to performing like a deity and lets anyone who might follow you do so with a clear conscience. It also keeps your enemies guessing. . an altogether reasonable outcome for everyone involved.”
“But you see the future. . know it before it happens,” Drakis said under his breath. “Or do you cause it to happen-determining my fate?”
Jugar stopped, looking up earnestly into Drakis’ face. “No! No one determines your fate but you!”
“But you. . you knew!”
The dwarf let out a great sigh. “Yes, I knew, Drakis-and I am sorry for it, my boy.”
“But how? How did you know?”
The dwarf looked around them once more, gesturing as he did. “Have you ever been here, Drakis? Do you recognize the place?”
Drakis glanced around. “Of course. It is the Hall of the Past.”
“Do you know what it is for?”
Drakis shook his head, “Why can’t you just answer my question?”
“I am answering your question,” the dwarf continued. “Do you know what it is for?”