The next morning, my first on Andrecia, dawned blue and cloudless. Just after sunrise I went down to the river to wash; there was a low-hovering mist, slowly dispersing, over which the tops of the fir trees on the opposite bank seemed to float. The swift-flowing water was sparkling clear but cold—colder than any I’d ever put a hand into, that’s for certain! I splashed some over my face and arms; it was an awful shock, but afterward I felt wonderful.
During breakfast Evrek and I tried to get something more out of Father about his plans. What he’d told us the night before had been pretty general, and neither of us had any real idea of how you might teach a Youngling to do the things we had talked about. But Father simply said that he’d have to think the situation through a while longer. Then he questioned me at great length about my encounter with the Andrecian woodcutters, making me describe in minute detail every thought that had come into my head about them as well as what had actually happened; though it seemed to me that since he’d observed the whole thing with an experienced eye, he must already know more about it than I did.
Finally, Father stood up and said, “First of all, I want to do some exploring. Come on, Evrek, let’s be on our way.”
“How far are we going?” I asked, wondering just how much of a hike he had in mind.
Quietly, he said to me, “You’re not going anywhere. I want you to wait for us here at the hut.”
“All by myself?”
“Yes.” He gave me a funny sort of look.
“Now, wait a minute!” I protested. “I thought you were making me a full partner in this! I don’t care if you are about to try something risky; I’m not going to stay behind.”
“Yes, you are. That’s an order, Elana!” he said sharply.
“An order?” Though Father could be obstinate at times, he’d never spoken to me in just that way before. I’d almost come out with an angry retort—for I’m not one to be dictated to—when it dawned on me what he meant. He was Senior Agent now, and he spoke in that capacity, not as a parent. I was therefore pledged to obedience for as long as we were in the field. With chagrin, I realized that he might have had more motives for investing me than he had mentioned.
“All right,” I agreed good-naturedly. “But just for curiosity’s sake, what would happen to me if I disobeyed it?”
He smiled. “Nothing, in the way that you mean. We’re not a military organization; we’re bound by the Oath, not by discipline.”
I paused thoughtfully. “Father,” I said, “what if an agent disobeyed in a—well, a serious matter? What if someone broke the Oath?”
“I hope you never have occasion to find out. Vital orders are enforced, Elana.” He went on, abruptly changing the subject, “There are a few things I must show you before we leave.”
These things proved to be details such as how to contact him in an emergency—for I was forbidden to use a communicator otherwise—and how, in the case of an ultimate emergency when I could not contact him, to signal the starship. I nodded and assured him that I understood everything; but inwardly, as he talked, I was getting more and more nervous. I was sure that no matter how perilous this “exploring” turned out to be, it would be much easier for me to go along with him and Evrek than to stay behind and worry.
It never occurred to me that he might be perfectly well aware of that.
To be alone, really alone, as I was after Father and Evrek left, was a new experience for me. I’d scarcely ever been out of the city on my home world—and there I was in the wilderness of a strange planet, where it was anyone’s guess what might come charging out of the forest. Looking back, I know that I was not in any great danger. Although there was some chance of more Imperials coming by, Father considered it a small one; and after all, I could have used the Shield against most other perils. But at the time I didn’t have much idea of what I was up against, and I had plenty of leisure to give my imagination free rein.
At first it wasn’t so bad. The elation that had come from my investiture was still with me; every time I looked down at the Emblem, I thought of how thrilled I felt to be wearing it at last … and of how silly it was for a full-fledged agent to be hesitant about staying alone in the woods. The day was simply gorgeous, and the area around the hut was a lovely one to be in. It should have been very pleasant to relax and enjoy myself for once, without having to study.
But I couldn’t enjoy it. As the afternoon wore on, I became increasingly conscious of a nameless, overpowering dread. Always before, the concept of physical fear had been an abstraction to me. I’d been apprehensive, naturally, during the grimmer phases of Academy entrance testing; but in such tests you remain aware that you won’t actually be harmed. Real fear is different. When dusk drew down it was an abstraction no longer, and by the time darkness came I was so scared that every small forest noise made me want to scream.
Father hadn’t really said how long he and Evrek would be gone, but he had implied that it would be only a few hours. Surely they couldn’t do much exploring after dark—and anyway, I couldn’t imagine him staying away at night without telling me. If they had been delayed, wouldn’t he let me know? I kept my communicator at my side, willing it to come alive with Father’s image or at least his voice, but it did not. I resisted the temptation to call him, for my instructions had been very definite on that point: I was not to break silence unless I was in serious trouble. But I was beginning to believe that something must be terribly, terribly wrong. What if they had encountered Imperials? What if—?
Eventually, in desperation, I attempted telepathic contact. And you know how worked up I must have been to even try, since it isn’t practical over such a distance without very strong emotional impetus indeed. But there was no response either from Father or from Evrek. So I huddled miserably in the hut as the hours crept by, not daring to peek out at the blackness of the woods, and tried to face the possibility that something awful had happened and that I was literally alone on Andrecia.
Why, why had I gotten myself into this? I wondered. I hadn’t had any conception of what it would be like to be stranded in such a situation. Father had forbidden me to signal the starship for at least five days, no matter what the circumstances; for that length of time I’d have to get along, knowing that almost certainly the two people I most loved had been killed in some horrible fashion and that the same thing could confront me at the very next moment.
Strangely, the planet’s rotation seemed much slower than I’d noticed at first. The sun did reappear finally, but it wasn’t much of a comfort.
Needless to say, I hadn’t slept.
It was almost noon before Father and Evrek showed up, perfectly safe and cheerful. When I first saw them, I was torn between a wild impulse to throw myself into their arms and a sense of outrage that made me want to lash out at them with the bitterest words I could think of. How could they have had so little regard for my feelings? Didn’t Father know what I’d go through when I didn’t hear from him? And with no apology—scarcely a greeting, even—he said to me, “Evrek and I only came back to pick up some supplies. We’ll be leaving again in a few minutes; we’re on our way to set up a second camp.”
“I’m coming, too!” I burst out. This time, I was not going to be left!
“No,” he said levelly, “I’ve got a plan worked out now, and it means that you’ll have to stay alone here.”
“For how long?”
“Eight or ten days, maybe.”
I was flabbergasted. “Is that an order, too?” I asked slowly. Giving me a searching look, he replied, “No, it’s not. You are being asked to volunteer.”
“Then I—I don’t think I want to do it.”
“You’ve got to, Elana!” Evrek said urgently.
I stared at him, puzzled. “Got to? You’ve certainly changed your attitude since the day before yesterday.”
Evrek shook his head sadly. He and Father had had a long, serious talk that past night, and he was doing his best to live up to what had been asked of him. “I don’t want to see you pushed into anything you’d rather not do, you know that,” he told me. “But you have no choice now; you’re sworn.”
It wasn’t till then, I think, that I really took in what it meant! Oh, they are fine words, glorious words. And the feeling you get during investiture is very overwhelming. But it’s not until it makes its first real demand of you, against your personal wish, that you understand what the whole thing’s about. “Above all other considerations” means exactly that; it’s just as true of small considerations, like being truly afraid for the first time in your life, as of big ones, like the decision Ilura had faced.
I was silent for a long moment. Then with a forced smile I said, “Well, I guess if it’s part of the job, I’m willing to give it a try.”
Father broke into a grin and hugged me. Good girl! Aloud he told me, “I hated to be so rough on you, Elana, but if you were going to panic, we had to get it over with fast. Once we start this, it’ll be too late for you to decide you can’t do what’s required.”
“I was on the edge,” I admitted.
“I know. The worst part’s learning how it feels. You’re through that now.”
Why, that’s true, I realized. It won’t ever be bad in the same way again! Oddly, the main result of that awful night was that I’d found I could deal with fear and anxiety—and that I could trust Father not to get me into anything I couldn’t handle.
For he’d frightened me deliberately. He knew that, whatever happened to me on Andrecia, I was in for a series of rude awakenings; he also knew that the more closely he could control the time and place of these, the better off I’d be. Learning to cope with being scared while you only think you’re in a tight spot is much better than waiting until you’re actually in one! Father was stuck with me, an ill-prepared trainee in an agent’s role, and he had to give me a crash course in the fundamentals to make up for some of the training I hadn’t had. One of the main qualities you need as an agent is the ability to function when you’re alone and afraid in a situation you don’t thoroughly understand.
I went from Father’s embrace to Evrek’s; Evrek kissed me, soundlessly pleading, Forgive me, darling?
For what?
For withholding response when you called … it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done!
My long-distance telepathy had worked: I hadn’t been sure; you don’t have any real idea of what your mind can do under stress until you’ve been taught to harness your emotions. The Academy gives much more thorough training in psychic control than the average school, because a field agent just can’t afford to be without it. I was now beginning to see a little of what the process involves. My eyes met Father’s, and this time the smile I gave him was genuine.
Returning it, he said briskly, “Well, I think we’re ready to take action, so let’s get on with it.”
“Am I allowed to know anything about this mysterious plan before you go?” I asked.
“All the details. Cheer up, it’s not so bad as I let you think. The Imperials haven’t the equipment to pick up transmissions from our communicators, so you’ll be able to keep in touch with us. But you’ll have to make some contacts with Andrecians entirely on your own.”
My enthusiasm came rushing back. Contacting Younglings in the role of an “enchantress” might turn out to be fun! So it was with renewed optimism that I listened to Father’s plan, the wild scheme we would use to choose an Andrecian and to endow him with “magic” powers.
These natives were people! Jarel thought fiercely. Someday, left to themselves, they might even develop a true civilization. What right did the Empire have to take their future away from them just because they were not civilized now?
He had come to this startling conclusion after several days of guard duty, days during which he’d watched the captives closely, trying to figure out what sort of creatures they were. He’d tried desperately to remember what little he’d read in scientific journals about the findings of the Center for Research on Humanoid Species, which had made detailed studies of the natives captured on many other worlds. But it seemed to him that that august institution was more concerned with clinical analysis of the primitive mind than with intangibles such as human hopes and feelings, which he now suspected these people possessed in full measure.
Of course, he didn’t really know anything about their culture. He hadn’t seen them in their natural habitat; they had a village beyond the forest, he knew, but he hadn’t much idea of what it was like. His notion of primitive life was pretty vague, as a matter of fact. He’d never even read much ancient history.
But the men being held in the barracks had impressed him. Looking into their eyes, he’d seen a human awareness and dignity there. What must they think of us? he wondered. With our pressure suits and helmets and all, we must look like some kind of monsters! The natives must think we’re not human. It’s a good thing those of us who are guarding them aren’t wearing pressure suits anymore. It must be bad enough for the poor savages, just being in the vicinity of that rockchewer.
He had observed that the natives were scared silly of the rockchewer, especially when it was throwing out flames, and he could scarcely blame them. It did look rather formidable. And it made enough racket to unnerve anybody who might suspect that it was coming after him. To an aborigine who’d never seen a self-propelled machine before, it might even seem alive. Why, Jarel thought, no wonder they came singly or in small groups. They weren’t after the colonists, they wanted to stop the rockchewer. Rumors about it must have spread. Those guys were genuine heroes, and look at what happened to them. It was no picnic to be paralyzed.
The prisoners were not totally paralyzed, of course; once locked up, they were given only enough stunning to forestall any attempted escapes. The treatment in itself was not painful, and it was very efficient; so far, the only man who’d got away had done so before being taken inside. That had happened that afternoon, when Jarel had accidentally-on-purpose set his stunner to “neutralize” during the capture. He’d gotten a dressing down for it from Dulard, naturally, and he knew that he’d be watched from now on. But somehow he felt good about it.
For Jarel, the hardest thing to take was the captives’ burning hatred for him. He wished there were some way to let them know that he didn’t like what he was forced to do. But of course, they couldn’t understand a word he said, any more than he understood their jabber. So every time he stepped inside the room where the men were confined he was met with hostile stares; it was getting so that they followed him into his dreams. He had become a doctor to alleviate suffering, not to inflict it, and the whole business disturbed him more than he cared to admit.
It would be different when the rest of the colonists got there, he thought hopefully. He’d be so busy with the clinic that he wouldn’t have time to think of anything else. But underneath he knew that there was a deeper problem than the question of the work he was assigned to perform.
When at length Georyn and his brothers came before the King, they vowed solemnly that they would not fail to challenge the fearful Dragon; whereupon they were given swords and armor and were told that if they should chance to vanquish the beast they should possess all they had dreamt of and more. “But,” the King warned, “it is not likely that such will ever come to pass. No man who has ventured against this monster has ever been seen again, and I fear that the same fate awaits all of you.” And with that word he dismissed them. Yet the brothers laughed as they left the King, and they set forth in high spirits.
Presently, they came to a path that led through the fringes of the Enchanted Forest. Then they ceased their laughter and their shouting and went softly, not knowing what manner of evil spirits they might encounter; and their gleaming swords seemed less invincible, and even the creatures of the forest seemed to be mocking them. But the brothers did not slacken their pace, and Georyn was troubled, for he knew that it would take more than courage alone to overcome the Dragon.
When dusk drew down they paused to drink from a bubbling spring; and as they were returning to the path, they came upon another stone hut and knocked upon its door, asking shelter for the night. Within they found an old man. He appeared to be old, certainly, for his hair was white and his face was not the face of youth; but he was nonetheless strong and exceedingly tall. And although he was clad in the garb of a peasant, he would have looked more natural in king’s robes.
That this stranger was a magician, the brothers knew well, for there was a charm upon his speech even as upon that of the Enchantress whom they had met earlier. They understood him clearly, although the words he spoke were of a strange and unfamiliar tongue. “I will give you food and lodging,” the man told them, “but in return you must promise to pay whatever price I ask of you.”
The woodcutter’s sons were weary, and they had had no food all day except dry bread. Over the old man’s fire hung a large pot, and from that pot there arose the irresistible odor of rabbit stew. On the morrow, perchance, they would meet the Dragon; and how can a man fight well if he is hungry and has had but little rest?
“We would accept that offer,” said the eldest brother, “but we have no money.”
“I will not demand money,” said the stranger. “But I will tell you no more than that in advance; you will have to trust me.”
Now Georyn knew that it was foolish to promise a payment that he could not even guess at, but his brothers were eager; and when he looked into the old man’s eyes, he found them honest eyes—unfathomable, perhaps, but surely honest. He did not believe that this man would cheat anyone. So he gave the promise required of him, and enjoyed a good supper and a warm place to sleep.
But in the morning, when the brothers would have set out once more upon their quest, their host detained them, saying, “You have eaten my meat and slept before my fire; now, in payment, you must serve me for three days.”
“But we cannot!” cried the brothers, “for we have sworn to fight the Dragon and vanquish it; and we must not tarry, lest another should precede us and claim the reward.”
It chanced that as they spoke thus, there burst forth from the wood a rough-clad fellow, a villager, who was pale and trembling with fright. The eldest brother called out, “What is the matter, my good man, that you flee with such haste?”
“Alas!” cried the villager, “I have been bewitched by evil spirits, and I fear they pursue me still.”
“Then take cheer,” said Georyn, “for you have reached the edge of the Enchanted Forest and are now safe. Where met you these demons?”
“Many miles hence; they attend the Dragon and have the power to turn men into stone!”
The brothers gasped, for how could one fight the Dragon if one were first turned into stone? And Georyn questioned the villager, who told them, “They are indeed fearful demons, who have the form of men, yet are larger than men, and wear no clothing; and their skins are of a glistening silver, and very hard, so that no sword can cut them. And these demons have no faces, but only round globes for heads; nor do they speak—but they cast spells, and those to whom they point are turned into stone, yet live. I too was bewitched and would presently have been fed to the Dragon; but for a moment the spell weakened and I escaped.”
“Did you see the Dragon?” Georyn asked.
“Certainly I saw it, and heard it, also! It is huge, ten times the size of yonder hut, and it is covered with silver scales. Its head is higher than the treetops, so great is its neck’s length! And when it has no men to devour it feeds upon the foliage; whole trees disappear into its maw, and all around the very earth is seared and blackened. There is a clearing larger than the King’s own grainfield where no grass will ever grow again. Never will that beast be slain by any mortal, I think, and our one hope is that we may find the means to appease it.”
“Surely this man must be mad!” announced the eldest brother. “We must be off, if we are to put an end to these foolish fears and gain the treasures the King has promised us.”
“Go, then,” said the owner of the hut. “I will let two of you depart; but the other two must stay to be my servants, for know that without my good will you cannot hope to win what you are seeking.”
At these words Georyn bethought himself that the old man might know of magic that could be used against the Dragon, and he told this to his brothers; but they only laughed and said, “If there be indeed such magic, why has not the magician killed the monster himself and claimed a half of the kingdom? We shall place our trust in strength and prowess and in our sharp swords, not in spells, which cannot be predicted or measured.”
So Georyn let the two eldest brothers go on ahead, telling them that he would follow. But the next-to-youngest brother, whose name was Terwyn, said, “I too will stay, for though I doubt that this man’s magic can help us, I will not break my promise to him.”
Then for three days did Georyn and Terwyn work, cutting wood for the old man and tending his fire; and during that time Georyn perceived that their master was not only good, but was also exceedingly wise. On the last morning of their service, he called them to him and told them that in return for their faithfulness he would grant them any boon that lay within his power. And Georyn forgot all about practical matters and asked hastily the thing that was closest to his heart:
“Sir, I pray that you will tell me the source of your wisdom!” The old man smiled and said, “Why, my wisdom has come from the stars; for they hold secrets beyond imagination, and I have seen them.”
“Is that then the way to knowledge, to be a watcher of stars?” Georyn asked dubiously, for he too had seen stars; often on clear nights he had lain upon the grass and gazed up at them for hours on end. Often too had he sensed that there was more to be seen than he could understand, but that was not exactly the sort of wisdom for which he had been looking.
“That is part of it, Georyn,” the Starwatcher said kindly, “but as I am sure you have guessed, it is not so simple as that. So I have not really given you an answer, and you must ask me something else.”
Thereupon hope rose within Georyn, and he asked, “Have the stars told you by what means the fiery Dragon may be overcome?”
“Yes, even this they have told me: the Dragon cannot be overcome by ordinary weapons, but only by magic.”
“So I have believed!” cried Georyn. “Ah, if the stars would but show how such magic may be understood and used!”
“This too have they done,” said the Starwatcher slowly. “But I cannot give you that secret until you have performed certain tasks that shall be set you.”
“Gladly will we perform these tasks,” said Terwyn, with enthusiasm. “For if our brothers have not already killed the Dragon—and I fear they would have returned ere now, had they done so—I am ready to agree that our swords alone will be of little use to us.”
The Starwatcher looked back and forth between the two brothers, holding their eyes in turn. “The tasks are not easy ones. They will require wit and courage.”
“That is to be expected,” said Georyn. “Tell us what we must do.”
“I have heard,” the Starwatcher said, “of an enchanted disk that I should like to have. This disk is no bigger than the palm of my hand, but it is very magical, for within it appear clear images of things as they are—images that move and speak, even as do the people that they represent. Were you to look into such a disk, Georyn, you could see me from afar and hear my voice; and so too could I see and hear you.”
“Only tell us where this marvel may be obtained,” cried Terwyn, “and we will get it for you.”
“I cannot tell you where to find the enchanted disk,” declared the Starwatcher. “You must discover it for yourselves.”
“It is indeed a difficult task,” whispered Georyn, nearly overcome. “But we will attempt it, if that is the only way to the Dragon.”
“It is the only way that can offer you even the smallest hope of success,” the Starwatcher said firmly. “Go now, and do not return without the disk.”
So Georyn and Terwyn went forth into the wood, and for a while they wandered aimlessly in despair, for they knew of no place where they might even begin to search for an enchanted disk in which the images of living men might be seen. Surely not even the King himself had ever heard of such a wonder! “I do not believe that the thing exists,” said Terwyn. “The Starwatcher is making sport of us.”
“I do not deem him a man who would do that,” said Georyn thoughtfully. “Nevertheless, it may well be that there is no enchanted disk and that he is simply trying to spare us death in combat with the Dragon, knowing that only through trickery can he keep us from challenging the monster. But I do not really think that is the way of it. I believe that we are meant, somehow, to accomplish this task.”
“Perhaps so,” Terwyn conceded, “but when? Ere we find a magical disk such as the one he desires, the Dragon may die of old age.”
Georyn nodded. To search without direction would, he knew, be of no avail; and besides, they had been told that the task would require wit. That could only mean that the key to its accomplishment lay within their present knowledge. Yet what did they know of enchantments? All at once it struck him: perchance there was indeed someone from whom they might learn where the disk was hidden, the Enchantress who dwelt on the other side of the forest! For the Enchantress had promised that she would aid them if the time came when they could proceed no further alone, and surely that time was now.
With renewed hope, then, the brothers pressed on until they came to the river; and they followed it to a ford from which, by late afternoon, they were able to reach the place where they had met the Enchantress. And the Lady stood there under the trees before the stone hut, with the last rays of the sun shining upon her silvery garments, and she was even more beautiful than he had remembered, Georyn thought.
Yet there was an indefinable difference about her, too. Spirited she had always been, beneath the calm dignity of her manner; but now there was a strength and an assurance in her bearing that caused Georyn to wonder how he dared think of her as he had, in his secret heart, begun to think. And as he looked at her he perceived the reason for the change, for about her neck on a silver chain there hung a brilliantly gleaming pendant of many facets, and he knew beyond all doubt that it was enchanted.
The Enchantress, following his gaze, raised her hand to the pendant and touched it; both Georyn and Terwyn stepped back in awe. “Lady, I see now the source of your power,” said Georyn respectfully. “I am dismayed before so potent a charm as that.”
She seemed quite startled, as if she had not been expecting him to recognize the thing for what it was. (But surely she knew that he was not so foolish as to think that any mortal woman, whether she were lady or princess or even queen, could possess such an ornament!) Smiling, she let the pendant drop; and as the light of the sunset touched it, it appeared to glow. “Fear it not!” she said to them. “It is indeed the Emblem of my power, but it works only for good and cannot be used to harm anyone.”
“I am very glad to hear that,” Terwyn said, “for I think now that your power is far vaster than I had dreamed.”
“Though the Emblem is mighty,” she told him, “but little of its force is at my command; for its power is not an easy one to wield.” Her voice was melodious, but her words were, as before, only meaningless sounds in themselves; the brothers heard them through their minds more than through their ears. “And you, Georyn?” she continued. “Do I surprise you also?” But she did not say how she knew his name.
“No, Lady,” Georyn replied, and as he said it he knew it for the truth. “Neither you nor your enchanted Emblem is any surprise to me, for I have known since I first beheld you that in you is a thing that I have looked for all my life; and to learn your secrets shall now be my only goal and hope.”
It’s hard now for me to recall just what did happen during that first real exchange with Georyn. Your feeling for a person who has come to mean something to you colors all your memories, so that you can’t describe them objectively. But I’m sure that right from the start I thought of Georyn not merely as a Youngling, but as someone whose friendship I would value. Even at the beginning I could communicate much more easily with him than with his brother; Georyn’s telepathic ability was just naturally greater; or, I suppose, he may already have been backing it with emotion.
The past three days had done a lot for me. I wasn’t bothered by being alone any longer; and the nights, although dark and lonesome, had been nothing like that first one. I was enjoying my leisure. The weather was bright; the river, although too cold to swim in, was beautiful to see; and I was becoming well acquainted with a family of squirrels that lived in the tree outside my hut. Though I knew, theoretically, that there were more challenges ahead, I had no anxious forebodings.
When, on the fourth day, the two Andrecians came to ask my help, I met them feeling pleasantly excited but in no way afraid. I knew that Father would not have sent them unless he was thoroughly satisfied that they were decent and trustworthy young men, as well as good candidates for the task of confronting the invaders. And, of course, he had already told me their names and as much as he could of their background.
Father and I had talked frequently by means of our communicators, and I had been carefully briefed as to exactly what I was to do and why. It was a complicated scheme. You can’t just say to an unsophisticated Youngling, “Now I am going to teach you to move objects by the power of your mind!” It requires a good deal of buildup. First, he has to believe that you do indeed have “magic” at your disposal and that it lies within his reach; to him, such things as a video communicator and a battery-powered arc light are just as magical as psychokinesis, so that’s easy. That’s not all of it, however, and the other prerequisites are much harder to arrange.
There were parts of the arrangements that I didn’t like too well. When I first heard the plan, before Father and Evrek left to establish the second camp, I objected to the testing that our protégés were to undergo, some of which would be decidedly disagreeable for them. “Do we have to scare the poor men to death?” I protested. “Must we have all this ‘prove your worthiness’ rigamarole?”
“Elana,” Father said, “if you want to train a man to do something difficult, you start by finding out how he reacts to difficulties. Aside from the fact that that’s something you’ve got to know, it’s the greatest favor you can do him, because you’re giving him a chance to make sure that he really wants to be in on the deal.”
“We don’t intend to trap anybody into this!” said Evrek. “It will change his whole life, Elana; whether he wins or loses it will. The man we use has got to be a genuine volunteer, and we mustn’t delude him by making it seem too enticing.”
He seemed surprisingly grave, almost sad. “And so it’s kindness to turn it into an ordeal?” I asked.
“Think of all we went through to get into the Academy,” he reminded me. “That wasn’t made easy, was it? Well, the principle’s just the same.”
“Yes, and as a more immediate example,” Father went on, “why do you think I had you make that first contact alone, before you were even sworn, and why did I force you to stay by yourself under circumstances that I knew would be frightening to you?”
He had me there. Because I could see, once I thought about it, that before I’d been asked to commit myself, I’d been given a taste of experience on which to base my choice.
“There’s more to it,” he continued. “For one thing, this sort of testing builds up a person’s self-confidence, and they’re going to need confidence.”
“Builds it up? I should think it might have the opposite effect!”
“Not if it’s done right. Of course, you have to have grounds for believing that a man can succeed in a test before subjecting him to it, because if he fails and suffers from it, that’s as much your fault as it is his.”
“I’m not sure that I can make that kind of judgment,” I said uncertainly.
“Of course you can’t, and you won’t need to. I’ll make those decisions, Elana. All you have to do is help carry them out.”
“Be glad you don’t have my job,” Evrek said grimly. “You’ll at least play the part of a good witch, and I’ve got to appear as a cruel one.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard for you!” I began in a bantering tone. But I stopped short, seeing his face. This was not a thing he wished to joke about.
“As a matter of fact,” Father said, “to project, telepathically, something opposite from what you feel—in this case, to threaten—is just about the hardest acting job there is. Evrek’s role is brief but very demanding, for he’s got to be convincing enough to make these men really afraid of him.”
“I suppose so,” I conceded. “But it still seems heartless.”
“Elana,” Evrek pointed out, “all other reasons aside, no inexperienced Youngling can do anything much in the way of psychokinesis without there being emotion behind it. For that matter, can you?”
“I could if I had to!”
“But not if you didn’t have to; that’s just the point.”
“We’ve got to build in some urgency,” Father said. “At first, we’ll simply be teaching them to believe in our magic, but they’ve got to be emotionally involved right from the beginning, and fear is the most powerful emotion we can arouse.”
“You’re so cold-blooded about it!”
“That’s not true!” he exclaimed heatedly. “If I’ve given that impression, it’s got to be straightened out right now. If we don’t approach this with warmth and compassion and faith in these people as human beings, we haven’t a chance of succeeding.”
“But won’t we be tricking them, setting up threats deliberately?”
“No,” Father assured me. “There will be no deception. You and I will tell them nothing that we aren’t perfectly sincere about.” He smiled encouragingly. “Elana, fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s a natural result of aiming high.”
“Don’t forget,” Evrek added, “we’re going to give them something good, something they’ll want very much to have. Like everything else, it has its price; but they’ll pay that price by their own choice.”
It was rather hard to get used to the idea that I could tell a man that I was giving him “magic” to help him defeat a “dragon” and still be perfectly sincere about it, but by the time I’d had several encounters with the Andrecians I understood what Father meant. The language of symbols is no harder to learn than any other foreign language. The fact that Georyn literally believed the colonists’ land-clearing machine to be a dragon never interfered with our communication at all, and I never told him any lies, either. Nor did I lie to him about myself; he simply interpreted my thoughts according to his own framework of beliefs. If he credited me with “supernatural” powers, it was only because his definition of “natural” was narrower than mine.
Yet there were problems, problems I could never have anticipated. I expected, you see, to be playing a game of make-believe with the Andrecians. During my briefings as to the sorts of explanations that would be meaningful to Georyn and Terwyn—which Father gave me via the communicator, just as fast as he could learn what concepts they understood—I got the impression that I would be simply acting out a part in a fairy tale. It didn’t occur to me that I myself would be affected.
Not that Father didn’t warn me. “Elana,” he told me, “one of the first things you’ll learn when you start working with these people is that they are fundamentally no different from other people you know. The fact that they are Younglings in terms of their culture does not mean that they are in any way childish as individuals. Any man who is capable of doing the job we are going to give him will be a strong, self-assured person, and you will not feel toward him as you would toward a child.”
This turned out to be something of an understatement. But it was a while before I realized it.