In the Realm of the Wolf
““The argument,” he said, “is of intellectual interest only. It is of no real importance.”
“How can that be, Father Abbot?” asked Magnic. “Surely it is central to our beliefs.”
“In this I must agree with my brother,” put in the forked-bearded Vishna, his dark eyes staring unblinking at the abbot.
Dardalion beckoned them to be seated and leaned back in his wide leather chair. Magnic looked so young next to Vishna, he thought, his pale face soft-featured and unlined, his blond, unruly hair giving him the appearance of a youth some years from twenty. Vishna, tall and stern, his black forked beard carefully combed and oiled, looked old enough to be Magnic’s father. Yet both were barely twenty-four.
“The debate is of worth only because it makes us consider the Source,” said Dardalion at last. “The pantheistic view that God exists in everything, every stone and every tree, is an interesting one. We believe the universe was created by the Source in a single moment of blinding energy.
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