Nickolai told his fellow prisoners of the conversation he had had with Lazarus, such as it was. And he had told them how convinced he was that Brother Lazarus was lying through his canine teeth. Despite what he had told the dog, it was not enough. Nickolai had had his fill of mysteries, and of holy men who were the gatekeepers. He had been brought here by the grace of God, and by that grace there should be no more secrets. It didn’t matter how profane or tainted Lazarus thought his guests might be; the fact that they were here at all argued for them. Kugara and the scientists saw things differently. While they didn’t argue with the premise that Lazarus lied, their thoughts went toward escape and a resumption of their search through the tunnels. Nickolai knew that approach would be doomed. What they sought, Lazarus knew of and could lead them to it. He just needed to be convinced. And, instead of sleeping, Nickolai spun theological and moral arguments in his head, trying to discover the key to Lazarus’ thinking, what the dog needed to hear to deem them worthy.
