I nodded faintly. "Tried to make me—kill myself."
"He needs a doctor," the man said suddenly.
"No!" The woman whirled on him. "The Exalted One would wish that he be brought to him."
"We aren't sure—"
"But he must be one who can hear the voices. You heard what he said—and you said yourself he should have been killed in that accident. If he hadn't been a Chosen One—"
"He might be hurt worse than we can see."
"The Swami will know. We must take him there."
Bewildered, I listened to them argue, not understanding what they could mean. They spoke in casual tones as if others had heard the voices. But if that were true then I was not alone, it wasn't something I had imagined—
"You've heard the voices?" I asked eagerly. "You've heard them?"
The brightness faded from her eyes, clouded over with sadness. She shook her head. "We try, Henry and me, but we can't hear them. We are weak. We have not learned the fullness of believing. But the Swami says we are approaching the purity of full knowledge." Her voice rose earnestly. "Our day will come—if not in this life, then in the next."