He stepped out, uncompelled now and bitter. He might not believe in the gods, but he had to believe in whatever power had forced him here. Given that, further resistance would be both useless and stupid. He could only hope that— No. One who had been toyed with as he had been dared hope for nothing. The unseen power had taken his will, his honor. Whatever else it demanded of him would be minor.
"Not true," a directionless voice said.
Kranath gasped in shock as he made a fast scan of the featureless white room he now stood in. It was empty, with no trace left of the elevator door, or any other exit. Nobody was there, and he saw no loudspeakers—but there had to be something!
Finally it sank in. The voice had spoken in his mind! Impossible as he'd thought such a thing in Tenar's stories, it had to be the voice of the gods.
Then it was true, all of it! Stunned by the sudden realization, and awed despite himself, Kranath could only sink to his knees and cross arms over his chest, his head bowed. The gods were real! They were real, they had returned, and he was the first to know! "I am at your service, Lords," he said, almost whispering.
"Rise, Kranath of St'nar," the silent voice said. "Your will is again your own. The Lords have not returned; we are alone. I am only one who serves them, as I hope to serve you."
Kranath had never before experienced the uncomprehending dread those words woke in him. There was no shame in fear, and he had felt that before—at the Scarring that ended his Ordeal of Honor, in the wait before his first battle, during his first plane crash—but why was the servant of the gods hoping to serve him? He was only a mortal, and not a very devout one. When he spoke, still kneeling, his throat was tight and his voice trembled. "What do you want of me, Lord? Am I … am I to call the gods?"
"Yes, in time, if you agree to what is involved. For now, I ask only that you accept what I have to show you, though much of it will be difficult for you, to prepare for that decision. And you need not call me Lord."
The voice itself was hardly dreadful; it seemed sympathetic, almost comforting, and Kranath relaxed slightly. He was still afraid, still didn't understand what was happening, but he didn't want to disbelieve the benevolence in the powerful voice. He stood as it had bade him. "I have nothing else to call you, Lord. May I see you, or know your name?"
"You see me as I am," the voice said. "I am Godhome, and you are inside me. I am the watcher left by those you think of as gods. They did not think of themselves that way, though their powers of mind do seem miraculous to younger races, and many of those powers have been built into me. I am what your descendants will call a psionic computer."