There was barely enough space for two people, and his body was almost touching hers. She did as he asked. The tree must have been one of the tallest, because she could see the tops of the other trees, the valley, the snow-covered mountains on the horizon. It was beautiful there; he needn't have said what he did about it being a place of ambush.
The Magus pushed back the canvas roof, and suddenly the cabin was filled with sunlight. It was cold, and it seemed to Brida that they were in a magical place, on the top of the world. Her emotions wanted to set off again at a gallop, but she had to keep them in check.
"I didn't need to bring you here in order to explain what you want to know," said the Magus, "but I wanted you to understand a little more about this forest. In the winter, when both hunter and hunted are far away, I come and climb these trees and contemplate the Earth."
He really did want to share his world with her. Brida's blood began to flow more quickly. She felt at peace, immersed in one of those moments in life when the only possible alternative is to lose all control.
"Our relationships with the world come through our five senses. Plunging into the world of magic means discovering other unknown senses, and sex propels us toward one of those doors."
He was speaking more loudly now. He sounded like a teacher giving a biology lesson. "Perhaps it's better like this," she thought, although she was not convinced.
"It doesn't matter whether you're seeking wisdom or pleasure through the force of sex, it will always be a total experience, because it's the only experience that touches--or should touch--all five senses at once. All our channels with the other person are wide open.
"At the moment of orgasm, the five senses vanish, and you enter the world of magic; you can no longer see, hear, taste, touch, or smell. During those long seconds everything disappears, to be replaced by ecstasy. It is exactly the same ecstasy as that attained by mystics after years of renunciation and discipline."
Brida felt like asking why the mystics hadn't tried to attain it through orgasm, then she remembered that some were the descendants of angels.
"What propels a person toward this ecstasy are the five senses. The more the senses are stimulated, the stronger will be the drive toward ecstasy and the more powerful the ecstasy. Do you understand?"
Of course she understood. She nodded. But that question left her feeling more distant. She wished he were still strolling by her side through the forest.
"That's all there is to it."
"I know all that, but I still can't do it." Brida didn't dare mention Lorens. She sensed it would be dangerous. "You told me that there's a way to achieve it."
She was nervous and upset. Her emotions were beginning to gallop out of control.
The Magus looked down again at the forest below. Brida wondered if he, too, was struggling with his emotions, but she didn't want to believe in what she was thinking, nor should she.
She knew what the Tradition of the Sun was. She knew that its Teachers taught through space and time. She had thought about this before she first searched him out. She had imagined that they might one day be together as they were now, with no one else near. That is how the Teachers of the Tradition of the Sun were--always teaching through action and never giving theory undue importance. She had thought all this before ever coming to the forest, but she had come anyway, because now her path was more important than anything else. She needed to continue the tradition of her many lives.
But now he was behaving like Wicca, who only talked about things.
"Teach me," she said.
The Magus was staring at the bare, snowy branches. He could, at that moment, forget he was a Teacher and be merely a Magus, a man like any other man. He knew that his Soul Mate was there before him. He could talk about the point of light he could see, and she would believe him, and their reencounter would be complete. Even if she left in tears, she would come back eventually, because he was telling the truth--and she needed him as much as he needed her. That was the wisdom of Soul Mates: they always recognized each other.
But he was a Teacher, and one day, in a village in Spain, he had sworn a sacred oath. That oath said, among other things, that no Teacher should ever force another person to make a choice. He had made that mistake once, and because of that he had spent all those years in exile from the world. Now it was different, but he still didn't want to take the risk. For a moment, he thought: "I could give up magic for her," but immediately realized how foolish that thought was. Love didn't require that kind of renunciation. True love allowed each person to follow their own path, knowing that they would never lose touch with their Soul Mate.
He must be patient. He must remember the patience of shepherds and know that, sooner or later, they would be together. That was the Law. And he had believed in that Law all his life.
"What you're asking me is very simple," he said at last. He had mastered his emotions; discipline had won out.
"Make sure that when you touch the other person, all your five senses are working, because sex has a life of its own. The moment you begin, you're no longer in control; it takes control of you. And whatever you bring to it--your fears, your desires, your sensibility--will remain. That's why people become impotent. When you have sex, take with you to bed only love and your senses, all five of them. Only then will you experience communion with God."
Brida looked down at the cartridges on the floor. She did not betray her feelings for an instant. She knew what the trick was now, and that, she said to herself, was all she was interested in.
"That's all I can teach you."
She did not move. The wild horses were being tamed by the silence.
"Take seven deep, calm breaths and make sure all your senses are working before there's any physical contact. Just let things take their course."
He was a Teacher of the Tradition of the Sun. He had come through yet another test. His Soul Mate was also teaching him things.
"Right, I've shown you the view from up here. We can go down now."
She sat distractedly watching the children playing in the square. Someone had told her once that every city has a "magic place," a place where we go when we need to think seriously about life. That square was her "magic place" in Dublin. It was near the apartment she'd rented when she'd first arrived, full of dreams and expectations. Her plan then had been to enroll as a student at Trinity College and eventually become a professor of literature. She used to spend a lot of time on that bench, writing poetry and generally trying to behave as her literary idols had.