Souls are simply aspects of ego splintered off from Mae and Jin, the two original gods. They began with no ego at all, you know. But as they gained awareness of themselves, each affirmation of something they were created a denial of something they weren’t. This created a polarity, a split between themselves and something that became a new ‘soul’—an un-being that gave that shadow voice. One god, declaring himself to be good and denying that he was evil, split into two parts—one good and one evil—because each god is both good and evil. Each part, as it gained awareness of itself and declared itself this or that but denied that it was the shadow of each new identification, split into more and more pieces—creating an exponential birth of new souls.
The nobles had made reading unpopular, as it showed that one couldn’t afford to buy spells or magical devices, since one had to get knowledge to do things the ordinary way; even if this view held little logic, the king himself was known to insult readers as “bookfaces” or “unable to think for themselves, so they need to spout what others have said,” and these opinions became popular, as did most views expressed by the king or his son.
Part of her exulted that he’d asked her, out of everyone in the coach, this question; he must think her intelligent. The rest of her, though, wanted to slap herself for disproving his thought. Here was her opportunity to have her fantasy of a deep philosophical conversation come true with Garth, and all she could say was well, not really. Idiot!
Vesper felt herself turning red with humiliation. Then she looked at Allegra—really looked at her. Maybe she’d had such a problem with people not seeing her because she wasn’t seeing them. Did Allegra’s mask of rage hide pain and doubt that anyone would ever truly love her? She thought that it just might. Vesper didn’t quite feel compassion, but she no longer took Allegra’s behavior personally.
Nim looked aghast. “Of course not. Do you think my future wife would be a servant? No—it’s Number Seven of the wives. Her name is Begonia.”“Oh, no, Nim,” Vesper said. “You can’t fall for one of the wives! She’s married. And to the king, no less. That’s illegal. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but you’ll still probably be arrested if anyone finds out—or worse.”“I knew you’d say that,” Nim said, turning away. “You’re such a prude, Vesper. Love is above things like rules. And the king has so many wives and mistresses—he doesn’t even remember all of them.
It is nearly impossible to feel anything negative in here. Because you’re really connected, to everything, here… but it’s only meant to be a temporary sanctuary, a place to remember yourself. In time you’ll want your negative thoughts, your emotional baggage back, and you’ll have hopefully bolstered yourself enough with the Sanctum’s reminder of your Source that you can come out with fresh perspective. When you’ve had enough of it, you’ll know, and then come and join us outside.
Have you heard of the Children of Mae?”“The cult?” She knew of a religious group whose members went door to door, preaching the benefits of self-discipline—abstinence, celibacy or monogamy, vegetarianism—pretty much anything fun was prohibited. They had never come to Vesper’s house because her father was a butcher and probably pretty low on their list of possible converts.