Lyf shrugged. "Why not. If your T.V. holds out that long, I'll give you that much time. Longer if necessary. You can't really be blamed for being a product of your culture—and your culture has rejected the Snake. It would be easier if you were a Taoist or a Yezidee."
"But I'm not," Miss Twilley said miserably. "And I can't help thinking of you as the Enemy."
"We Devi get blamed for a lot of things," Lyf admitted, "and taken collectively there's some truth in them. We gave you basic knowledge of a number of things such as medicine, writing, law, and the scientific method. But we can't be blamed for the uses to which you have put them."
"Are you sure I have cancer?" she interrupted.
"Of the pancreas," he said.
"And you can cure it?"
"Easily. Anyone with a knowledge of fifth order techniques can manipulate cellular structures. There's very little I can't do, and with proper equipment about the only thing that can't be defeated is death. You've heard, I suppose, of tumors that have disappeared spontaneously." Miss Twilley nodded.
"Most of them are Devian work. Desperate humans sometimes use good sense, find a medium and generate a sixth order focus. And occasionally one of us will hear and come."
"And the others?"
"I don't know," Lyf said. "I could guess that some of you can crudely manipulate fifth order forces, but that would only be a guess." He spread his hands in a gesture of incomprehension incongruously Gallic. "I don't know why I'm taking all this trouble with you, but I will make a concession to your conditioning. See your doctors. And then, if you want my help, call through the gateway. I'll probably hear you, but if I don't, keep calling."