a mere trickle and pooled around them. Moreover, Kit was aware of a very strange and powerful emotion—one he had only ever felt once before in his life. As a youngster, Kit had been introduced to what was reputed to be the oldest tree in England—a massive, gnarled, tangle-rooted thing called the Marton Oak, which had survived almost 1,300 years of earthly life. Kit remembered standing there beneath the twilight canopy of its enormous spreading boughs among roots that were as big as he was, and feeling an almost supernatural force that gave him to know that he was in the presence of a living entity of such peace and gentleness and strength of spirit that it inhabited a whole other plane of existence, and beside which he was as small and notional as a clod of dirt.
In the presence of the old one, Kit felt that way again, dwarfed by a spirit not only far older and wiser but also far larger and more powerful than any he had ever encountered. And like that ancient oak, the old man was unutterably regal: a king of his kind. Once more Kit was that young boy standing in the shadow of a vastly superior entity and knowing to his very pith and core how very insignificant he was.
Yet he felt no fear. A boundless and placid acceptance seemed to emanate from the aged being before him, and Kit understood that despite the yawning abyss between them he had nothing to fear.
The Ancient One examined Kit slowly head to toe, and Kit saw that while one of the old one’s eyes was bright and piercing keen, the other was clouded and almost opaque. Upon concluding his examination, the aged chieftain raised his head and fixed Kit with an ardent, determined look, and Kit was aware that this was an attempt at communication; he could feel it as a physical force of considerable intensity. Kit, beguiled by the power and directness of the approach, simply opened himself to it.
The result was staggering.
What kind of creature are you?
The question struck him like a closed fist, and Kit instinctively took a quick backwards step to recover his equilibrium. It took a second before Kit realised that the question had not been spoken aloud. Moreover, it had not, in fact, used words at all.
“I am a man,” Kit blurted, even though he knew this would not be understood.
But he was wrong in this assumption.
Ma-an, echoed the disembodied voice in his head.
Clear as a bell and distinct from his own thought, with its own timbre and texture and cadence, the unspoken voice of the Ancient One took shape, and the unprecedented interview commenced.
Ma-an . . . Kit’s word for himself was then combined with the idea of being, or existing . . . is . . . then Kit got a sense of growing things, action, breathing, change . . . living . . . life inextricably entwined with something tangible, yet amorphous, an animating fire, present yet hidden within . . . living soul.
The question, as it entered Kit’s mind, was: Are you, Man, a living soul?
“Oh, yes! Yes, indeed. I am—I have a soul,” Kit assured him, speaking aloud. He suspected it was probably unnecessary, but it was just easier to vocalise his thoughts.
Goodness . . . the feeling of fullness and rightness . . . satisfaction, flowed from the Ancient One, along with an awareness of a soul’s unique value and place in the world. Kit’s instant interpretation of these interconnected conceptual traces came out as: That is good. Creatures with souls are rare.
“Rare, yes.”
The chief gave a grunt of satisfaction. The next thought that formed in Kit’s consciousness was the recognition of a long and varied experience allied with surprise at a sudden and startling uniqueness. The sense Kit made of it was: We have seen many things, but never one like you.
“I have not seen any like you,” Kit replied.
Next Kit received what he interpreted as a sort of formal introduction. Into his mind poured a complicated and much mingled concept, an association of metaphors: pure animal strength and courage allied with majestic dominance—a lion, perhaps?—and this was combined with a sense of longevity—like a yew tree or a mountain—and lastly, the concept of serenity as applied to a calm, deep, freshwater lake of immense size and limitless depths. All this, then, was somehow combined and united in an affirmation of individual personhood—the being standing right in front of him, in fact: