It would be nice to be able to say that once you become an agent, you are always very dignified and mature; but you are not. At least I’m not. The day Terwyn was killed I stayed in my hut most of the afternoon, and I cried harder than I had for years. Agents can, of course, get into much worse situations, situations involving innocent bystanders instead of enthusiastic volunteers. But my eyes had been opened to the possibilities. Besides, there was the prospect of Georyn’s venture; and for me, that was a matter of feelings more personal than those involved in my mourning for Terwyn.
When I finally went outside, I saw that the sky had clouded over completely for the first time since we had been on Andrecia; the wind was from the east, and it carried the scent of rain. I wrapped my cloak around me and went to look for Georyn, but he was nowhere in sight. Father, however, came immediately to meet me. He took my arm, and we walked slowly along the path by the river, for a time not saying anything, although I could see he had something on his mind.
Then Father began, “I’ve been giving some serious thought to where we stand. All along, the worst part has been the fact that I couldn’t predict how our Andrecians would react to the problems they’d run into. Now, I’ve been able to analyze the reasons why Terwyn failed.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I told him.
“Elana,” he insisted, “we must talk about it if we are to see to it that Georyn isn’t defeated by the same things.” When I didn’t answer, he went on. “Before Terwyn panicked and used his sword, he tried the ‘charm’ twice; both times it was a failure. There were three main reasons, I think. First, in spite of the fact that we warned him that he would be paralyzed by the Imperials’ stunners, the actual shock of it was too much for him. Second, the sight of so many things utterly alien to his past experience unnerved him; the colonists have all kinds of stuff besides their land-clearing machine, and Terwyn had never seen any products of a mechanized technology before. And finally, he was so busy watching the ‘dragon,’ not to mention the Imperials themselves, that he couldn’t turn the force of his mind to psychokinesis.”
“Those sound like three good reasons for calling the whole thing off,” I said.
“In the usual case that might be true,” Father said. “But with Georyn, I think we can overcome those obstacles. I’ve figured out a way to prepare him for them. Originally I wouldn’t have considered anything of this nature, because the average Youngling wouldn’t adapt quickly enough; but Georyn has some special qualifications.”
“What way?” I asked, hoping that it would mean putting off the hour I dreaded. “How long will it take?”
“Just tonight. It’s rather risky, but I’m going ahead with it, because I think this is a time when we’re justified in gambling.” He broke off, seeing the look on my face, and laughed grimly. “Risky for us, for the mission, not for Georyn. I’ve been in contact with the starship; they’re going to send our ship back down.”
I was caught between relief and astonishment. “The ship? But why?”
“Because we haven’t the facilities to do what needs to be done without it,” Father told me. In detail, he described what he was planning to put Georyn through. The idea didn’t please me one bit; it involved the use not only of drugs, but of some quite rigorous conditioning techniques.
“That’s awful!” I exclaimed.
“It’s not awful, Elana. It’s merely an adaptation of the methods used at the Academy for the training that’s given in psychic control. We’ll make it simpler, naturally, since we don’t need to give Georyn as much control as an agent needs and we don’t have all the proper equipment.”
“It will be terrifying, though.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly what it’s got to be,” Father agreed. “That’s how it’s designed, because Georyn must be taught to respond to the type of terror he’ll face later in the way that he must respond if he is to survive.”
“How many times does he have to prove himself?” I demanded, close to tears again. “Hasn’t he been tested enough?”
“This isn’t a test. It’s training, and more than that, it’s a way of helping him learn what not to be afraid of, familiarization, so that when he meets the real thing he won’t panic.”
“I’d rather not send him up against the real thing at all,” I said.
“But we must, and he has volunteered for it. He wouldn’t back out now even if we asked him to. So let’s give him all the preparation we can.”
“You can give it to him,” I conceded.
“No,” he said slowly, “I can’t. It must be you, Elana. At least you must be the one to explain it to him and get his consent.”
“Why me?”
“Because only you can give him the confidence he’ll need. There is a—a bond of trust and understanding between you and Georyn, a bond that will enable you to present this in such a way that he’ll know, underneath, that he will come through it all right, no matter how hard parts of it may seem. It’s because of that bond, even more than because of Georyn’s innate courage and intelligence, that I feel he can adapt to this form of training in time for it to do him some good.”
I hesitated. Father’s description of the procedure had been full of innocent-sounding technical terms, but I’d had enough experience to know pretty well what he had in mind. “Will you use pain as a stimulus?” I asked directly.
“Yes,” he admitted. “It will be mild, though, and of course absolutely harmless. Elana, pain’s not categorically bad any more than fear is. Where the aim is to build a person up rather than to break him down, it can serve a constructive purpose.”
“But Georyn won’t know that!” I objected. “I can’t bear to have him think that I’d deliberately let him be hurt.”
“He’ll agree to it of his own free will,” Father pointed out. “I haven’t ever asked you to deceive him, you know. You will tell Georyn quite openly that the ordeal will be a grueling one, but that it will be ultimately to his benefit. And that’s the truth.”
Lowering my eyes, I said desperately, “Don’t ask this of me! It’s—not just a job anymore.”
Father looked at me rather strangely and then for a long time was silent; we resumed our walk. Finally he said to me, “I’m afraid this may seem hardhearted, and I don’t want it to, but I’ve got to use my best judgment as to what’s the right thing to do. So I’m making it an order, Elana.”
“What if I refuse it?”
“I’m not going to answer that, since we both know that you won’t. If you did and Georyn failed through lack of the support you could have given him, you would never forgive yourself.”
There was no argument to that. Resignedly I said, “What sort of explanation can I give him?”
“Simply say that you’re going to teach him more magic.” With an encouraging smile, Father added, “You know, Elana, the harder a thing is to come by, the more valuable it seems. If Georyn suffers a little to gain ‘magical’ knowledge, that in itself is going to increase his trust in its power, and he will feel better and stronger for it.”
I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter against the chill wind. Father went on, “There’s one more thing. Georyn’s faith in the ‘charm’ may be shaken when he hears that it didn’t protect Terwyn.”
“That would be surprising,” I murmured, not without irony.
“So we’ve got to give him something to replace it, something concrete to hang onto, I think, as a focus for his belief in his ‘magic’ powers.”
“How do you mean, a focus?”
“Oh, some small object, a talisman. Something like a magic ring. Only we can’t give him any artifact of ours, since he’ll have to take it to the invaders’ camp with him.”
My hand, warm in the pocket of my cloak, closed on the stone I’d put there my first night on Andrecia, the lovely reddish-brown stone I somehow hadn’t wanted to toss aside. “An enchanted stone,” I said thoughtfully, drawing it out. “This stone?”
“That’s fine!” Father said. He gazed at it thoughtfully and, taking my hand in his, declared, “Who can guess what powers lie hidden in that which is native to this world?”
“Just a minute! Do you mean I’m to tell Georyn that the Stone, in itself, can work magic?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But it can’t.”
“No, but if he believes it can that’s all that matters. And if you present it in the right way, he will believe it.”
“Now you are asking me to deceive him,” I protested.
“Symbolism isn’t deception! People need symbols, Elana. Why else do you wear the Emblem?”
“Oh, but that’s different!”
“How? Because you know it’s a symbol, while Georyn will believe literally in the power of the Stone? That’s irrelevant! In both cases it’s the idea that is potent and not the talisman, but knowing this is only a matter of sophistication.”
It was true enough, I realized, that Georyn had believed all along that the Emblem was the source of my power. The use of the Stone would undoubtedly make him more confident of his own. Yet it did seem like fakery somehow.
And there was another point that disturbed me; it had been disturbing me, in fact, ever since I’d let Terwyn go with such vague parting instructions. “We’ve already deceived Georyn in one way,” I said to Father. “We’ve let him think that eventually he will ‘kill’ this ‘dragon’ when we know that he won’t be able to do anything remotely resembling that. Even if the colonists do leave, it won’t be the sort of victory he’s expecting.”
“Elana, that’s a thing we can’t possibly explain. He’s got to have an immediate goal that he can visualize; without it he couldn’t approach the job with any assurance at all. You must not take that from him, even though it is stretching symbolism a bit further than you might wish.”
All right, I thought. I can’t tell him that he won’t kill the dragon. But somehow, I’m going to give him fair warning—not only about failure, but about success.
Upon a day of gathering clouds, as afternoon was waning, Georyn was told that Terwyn had been unable to prevail against the Dragon and that in the attempt to do so had been slain. And at these tidings Georyn’s heart was heavy, for he had loved his brother; and moreover, despite the warnings of the Enchantress, he had not believed that there was true danger of her magic failing so long as his purpose did not falter. When the Starwatcher assured him that Terwyn had displayed great valor, the quest began to seem hopeless indeed.
Nevertheless, he deemed that it had been laid upon him to continue it without delay, however little liking he had for the job. Unlike Terwyn, who had gone to the Dragon in anticipation of winning a reward, Georyn knew that for him victory might be no less bitter than defeat. Yet his success would be the Lady’s success, while his failure would be hers also, and perhaps in truth the world would be consumed if the evil was not stopped; so what choice was there in the matter?
As darkness fell that evening, Georyn went to the hut of the Enchantress, where she sat bathed in the magical white radiance of her captive piece of the Sun, and he said to her, “Lady, I have come to bid you farewell. I will set forth at first light tomorrow, for I must try the thing, now that all depends upon me.”
And she answered, “You are right, Georyn, you must. But not tomorrow. For you are not yet ready; the Starwatcher and I have learned from Terwyn’s death that the Dragon is guarded by an evil spell that is stronger than we had believed, and the charm that you have mastered is not in itself enough to challenge it.”
“What is to be done, then?” Georyn asked. And as he said this, he sat down beside her, for he was no longer in awe of the strange enchanted things within her hut.
The Enchantress bowed her head, and he could see that she was troubled. At last she said, “We are going to give you something else. But Georyn, I will not deceive you, there will still be danger. It is all too likely that if you attempt to complete this quest, you too will die. Even if you vanquish the monster, you may be slain in so doing.”
“I would willingly die, if I could free the world of this evil by it; and I know now that enchantments are less infallible than they first seemed. But, Lady, I shall not abandon hope so long as I have your good will.”
“You will always have that, Georyn,” she said softly, and her eyes glistened with tears. Then, hesitantly, she went on. “There is indeed hope that the spell that guards the Dragon may be broken, but the conditions are very hard.”
“Lady, I have met such before. Tell me the conditions!”
“They may not all be told at once. They are very complicated and concern the uses of enchantments. Yet I warn you that the final condition is so difficult that we had not planned to disclose it to you, for we feared that you would be discouraged. I now believe, however, that you have the right to know of it; so although the Starwatcher is still opposed, I will tell you, if you wish.”
“I wish to know the truth, even if it is not pleasant knowledge,” said Georyn, “for I am loath to meet it blindly.”
“You still must meet it blindly, for the condition is very cryptic. It is this: he who breaks the evil spell will be required to give up that which he deems most necessary to the triumph of good, and to face what appears to be a grievous failure. But as to how and when this must happen, that will remain hidden, for part of the condition is that the circumstances may not be known in advance.”
“But how then can I tell what I must do to bring them about?” Georyn protested.
“You cannot. I have revealed the requirement as a warning, not as guidance, and you must act as if you had never heard of it!” exclaimed the Enchantress. “It is best forgotten now; but when the condition has been fulfilled, you will know.”
Georyn frowned, thinking that this was the most perplexing idea that had yet been presented to him. “It seems a paradox, Lady, that the triumph of good should be brought about through giving up something that appears necessary to that triumph,” he said.
“Yes. But it is ever true that what looks like a paradox is merely a thing that cannot be understood by means of our present knowledge. Of this one I can say no more, for I myself cannot predict exactly what is going to happen.” The Lady sighed. “Perhaps the Starwatcher was right, and I should never have mentioned this. Yet I—I care about you, Georyn, and I could not bear to let it come to you as a shock in the end.”
“I am happy that you told me of the condition,” he assured her. But he was happier still at the other thing she had told him.
Then the Enchantress rose and, going to the cloak that lay upon a bench in the corner of the hut, she drew something from its pocket. And she said, “Now I shall entrust to you magic far greater than a simple charm; but I must have your promise that you will never employ it lightly, nor in an unworthy cause, for much evil could be wrought by its misuse. It is meant to serve you only in the most desperate necessity.”
Willingly did Georyn give the promise; whereupon the Lady held out to him a small, smooth stone, very like to those found along the banks of the river, a stone with a hole through its center. Reddish brown in color, it shone softly under the dazzling white light. And a wonder came upon him, for despite its commonplace appearance, he knew that it was no ordinary stone.
“It is enchanted,” the Enchantress told him, and he could not read her smile. “It looks simple, does it not? Well, I will tell you frankly that it is a thing that learned men of more than one world would find very hard to understand.”
“I am honored that you should consider me worthy,” said Georyn gravely.
“I fear that it is not a matter of my considering you worthy, but of your proving yourself. I give you final warning, Georyn: if you accept this thing, you do so at your peril!”
“If it were not perilous, it could not be very powerful,” Georyn observed. “For does not power always carry some sort of danger?”
She laughed. “Georyn, did you once seek the King’s wisdom? I think it would have been better had it been the other way around!”
Georyn flushed and quickly asked her, “What powers has this Stone?”
“Many; but they cannot all be released at once. Its strength will grow as you learn to use it.”
“Will it ever approach the strength of—of the Emblem, Lady?” Georyn ventured. And he asked not because he wanted such power for its own sake, but because a sudden wild hope had come to him that he might be permitted to share that which was uniquely hers.
“No, Georyn, it will not,” she told him honestly. “The Emblem reaches beyond space, beyond time, into another scheme of things; and such power cannot be embodied in any object of this earth. But the Stone will have a power that the Emblem does not have: the power to act directly in this world to save it from evil.”
For a long while Georyn stared at the thing; then he took it into his hand, knowing as he did so that he was committing himself irrevocably. One could never cast aside a responsibility such as this, having once accepted it. The stillness of the night was suddenly broken by the echoing cry of a forest bird, and the Enchantress looked up with a startled glance of recognition, or at least of memory. Then her eyes met Georyn’s and there was fleeting elation in them. “We have much in common, you and I,” she whispered.
He closed his free hand over hers. “Now I am truly honored!” he said, and with a light laugh he added, “If the Stone has so raised me in the first moment of my holdership, to what heights may I not aspire?” Then, serious again, he went on, “What are the terms, Lady? One does not receive power simply by taking a stone into one’s hand and setting forth to meet the Dragon in the next instant, whether the stone be enchanted or no.”
“No, one does not,” the Lady agreed, but as she spoke she seemed irresolute somehow. “Georyn, do you trust me—trust that I work only for your good?”
“If I did not, Lady,” he answered, “I should not trust myself either; for more than once I have placed myself totally in your hands.”
Outside, a silent rain had at last begun; the Enchantress looked away, toward the wet veil that had fallen across the hut’s open doorway, and with evident reluctance she said, “I am very glad that is the case, for your trust will now be put to trial. Georyn, the powers of the Stone are not easily bent to a man’s will. You are strong enough to wield them, I know; but you must learn, and I—I must now bewitch you in order to make that possible. But I warn you that you may not enjoy being bewitched. It will be terrifying; far more terrifying than anything you have yet experienced.”
Then Georyn’s heart chilled, for the Enchantress had always spoken truth to him and he knew that she did so now. But he was already committed and he did not regret it, so he smiled at her and said, “To be bewitched by you, Lady, is not a trial but a privilege.”
The Enchantress then took two cups that were already filled from the table behind her and gave one of them to him, holding the other herself; and she said, “So be it, then. Drink to the success of our venture!”
Georyn raised the cup, and then, seeing something not quite straightforward in her gaze, paused apprehensively. It was all too obvious that the Lady had not yet told him everything.
She sensed his question, and as she answered her voice trembled slightly. “Yes, there is a potion in it; but I swear to you that it is not an evil one, and that it will do you no lasting harm.”
Slowly, Georyn said, “If you tell me so, I will believe you; for I know that you would cast no spell over me that would lead me to peril.”
“I have never promised that, Georyn. I have told you the exact opposite: this whole affair is perilous, for you and for all of us.”
“All of us?” Georyn stared at her with distress, saying, “Surely, Lady, you do not mean that there can be any danger to yourself!”
With some hesitation she admitted, “I am in great danger simply by being in this world, so long as the Dragon remains.”
“Had I but known,” Georyn said unhappily, “I would never have desired that you should linger here. Now indeed we must make a quick end to the business. I shall drink your potion without fear; but I hope that the conclusion of the quest will not be long delayed by it.”
“The ordeal that you now must undergo is necessary to ensure your victory. It will help you to learn the uses of the Stone; but do not expect the learning to be an easy or a pleasant process. It is never so with an enchantment of any great value.”
“I am well aware of that, Lady,” said Georyn, and he drained the cup without further hesitation. Then, brushed by the first tendrils of real terror, he forced a laugh, asking, “What will happen to me now?”
The Enchantress put her hand on his, and although it was icy cold he felt a warmth spread through him. “Nothing really bad, but you will not understand it while it is happening. Trust in the Stone, however, and all will be well with you; for the Stone will give you the power to control things in circumstances where the charm alone would be useless.” She tried to smile, but all at once her composure broke, and she cried desperately, “Oh, Georyn, do not hate me for this!”
But Georyn did not hear these last words, for an enveloping blackness had come upon him, and he had fallen forward to be caught by the strong arms of the Starwatcher, who had at that moment entered the hut.
The ship came down under cover not only of darkness, but of rain. Evrek joined us; together he and Father took Georyn over to it. Georyn would not be allowed to know that there was a ship, naturally. When he regained consciousness, he would be inside, in an environment that would be totally incomprehensible to him. (This was part of the conditioning; one of the big things he was to learn was how to adjust to a foreign and unpredictable situation.) We were going to keep the ship on the ground for several hours, but it really wasn’t such a large gamble; in all the time we’d been on Andrecia, no Imperials had come our way except on that first afternoon.
“I don’t want to watch this,” I told Father.
“You’d better,” he replied. “Otherwise, you’ll picture something much worse than the actual ordeal.”
Evrek smiled at me. “It won’t be half so bad as you seem to think, Elana,” he told me. “Georyn will tell you that himself afterward. I’ll bet almost anything that he will.”
“How do you know?” I demanded irritably.
“For one thing, because your father just got through trying this setup on me, to make sure it’s working right,” he said gently. And with a puzzled frown he added, “It’s not like you to worry so much, darling.”
I turned away. He had not, of course, guessed why I worried about Georyn; and I didn’t want him to.
“Look, Elana,” Father said, “I’m not going to do anything to Georyn that I wouldn’t do to you in similar circumstances. I promise I won’t throw anything at him that he can’t handle.”
“Similar things will be done to you when you take your advanced training in psychic control,” Evrek reminded me. “And you’ll find that you won’t mind at all. Neither will Georyn, when he catches on—and he’ll catch on fast.”
I had to admit that he was probably right. And the plan was well set up to give Georyn confidence. It even included a drug-induced paralysis that would simulate the effects of the Imperials’ stunners. I knew that it was a good thing to expose him to that in advance, because though it doesn’t hurt it can really throw you the first time you experience it; we’d described it to Terwyn, but there’s no substitute for a practical demonstration. Georyn needed real proof that physical helplessness doesn’t affect the power of the mind at all.
But there was another thing about which I had serious reservations. “Father,” I said unhappily, “why must you show him this film?”
“It’s the only one I could get hold of. I don’t know what he’ll make of a travelogue showing the capital cities of the Federation; but he won’t understand enough of it for there to be any disclosure involved, that’s certain.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant. It just—just seems unnecessarily cruel, that’s all.”
“Why, Elana, I don’t think he’ll be unduly frightened by the film itself. There’ll be some bad moments when it first diverts him from the psychokinetic control he’s being forced to maintain, but that can’t be avoided, because we’ve got to teach him to split his attention.”
“If he doesn’t learn to keep control more or less automatically, on a subconscious level, he’ll be so overcome by the sight of the Imperials and their machines that he’ll lose it,” Evrek said. “Just as Terwyn did.”
Father added, “The use of a film is an efficient way of giving that lesson; and knowing Georyn, I think he’ll probably enjoy it. He may be sorry when it stops.”
I didn’t say any more. Father did know Georyn, but not as well as I knew him. Yes, he would enjoy the film, and he would be sorry when it was over. With any other Andrecian, perhaps that would be that. But Georyn, I was quite sure, would go on being sorry for a very long time.
Outside the barracks a dreary rain was falling; to Jarel it seemed of a piece with the mood of despair that had been with him ever since the ruthless killing of the native. He moved the lamp closer and bent over the paperwork on which he was trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Kevan’s words kept coming back to him: A world’s not tamed till we’ve gotten rid of every last native … sure there’s a war! That’s what colonization is.
That was not what he had thought it was when he joined the Imperial Exploration Corps. He had thought it a noble goal to spread humanity across the galaxy, a chance to do something constructive toward the future. He had thought it self-evident that humankind should reach for the stars, and never once had he questioned the price. He had not really been aware of there being a price. The conquest of space, the growth of the Empire into a grand commonwealth of worlds—ever since he was a kid, he’d wanted to be part of that; it was a hard ideal to give up.
Yet he couldn’t close his eyes any longer, Jarel thought. Why, in fact, had he kept them closed so long? Had he sold out? Was he so anxious for an exciting, high-paying career that he could overlook any crime the Corps might commit just to stay in? Was he so crazy about planet-hopping that he was willing to trade his soul for the chance to do it?
It was not just Kevan’s callousness, not just the death of a brave young man who hadn’t looked as if he deserved to die. After all, Jarel had seen men die before. A doctor saw all kinds of suffering and couldn’t afford to be squeamish about it; he didn’t expect life to be pretty, on this world or any other. The trouble was not so much that another “savage” had been killed as that Dulard and the others had ignored the incident, as they had ignored earlier ones—ignored them because underneath they knew that what Kevan said was true. Two peoples couldn’t share a planet. It either belonged to the race that evolved upon it, or that race got wiped out. Whether it was wiped out by the first shipload of men to invade the place or by natural attrition a couple of centuries later didn’t make a whole lot of difference.
If he stayed in the Corps, Jarel knew, this wouldn’t be the last native race he would help to subdue. Even if he himself never set foot on another planet that was being grabbed, he would still be supporting the Corps’s policy, wouldn’t he, if only by default? And he was no longer so sure that the goal itself was a worthy one.
“I don’t know,” said Jarel miserably to himself. “I just don’t know anymore. Perhaps the invention of the stardrive was the blackest mark on our already black history, perhaps truly wise peoples control their population and stay home where they belong.”
It would be nice to think that all this was leading somewhere, that there was such a thing as progress after all; but when it came right down to it, he didn’t see much evidence for that. In fact, he had a suspicion that the natives were better off than the average Imperial citizen, so long as they were left alone. They were like children, he thought wistfully, no worries. No real worries at all. Oh, they fought among themselves once in a while, maybe, but in between they didn’t have to be concerned with things like world problems or visions of lands beyond their own. That village of theirs was probably a quiet, happy place. What they had there was probably worth a lot more than the so-called blessings of civilization. In fact his own people might be ahead of the game if they were still living the life nature intended on their original home world, instead of looking for others to mess up.
If he were a brave man, he decided, he would get out right now. He would walk into that forest, armed with all the medical supplies he could carry, and he would live the rest of his life among those natives. He would let the Empire go where it most assuredly was heading.
He walked to the window and looked out at the rain, thinking ruefully that he didn’t have that kind of courage. He was not cut out to be a hero, he supposed. He was not even sure that he would have nerve enough to make a dramatic break if he could save them by it! And of course he couldn’t save them; he couldn’t even save the ones locked up that he was required to guard. If he let them go, Kevan or somebody would have them rounded up in ten minutes, if they were lucky; and if they weren’t lucky they’d get blasted.
Still, Jarel decided, he still had some self-respect—too much to be associated with the Corps now that he’d seen what it really stood for. So he would request a transfer to headquarters; he would go back with the supply ship, and then, well, he would resign. It was a great dream, this star roving, but behind the window dressing it was an empty one.
When Georyn came to his senses he knew instantly that he had been transported to some strange castle of the enchanted realm, for he saw naught that resembled the world of his own experience. The room in which he found himself was small and round, and its windowless walls were of a solid blue material, without cracks of any kind. It was a dungeon, he supposed; yet it was not dark. Rather, it was lit with a brilliance not unlike that of the Lady’s globe of light, though he could see no such globe.
But the sight of the place was as nothing beside the helplessness that he felt. He was lying on his back upon a soft but unyielding couch, and he could not move so much as one finger. In no way was he bound; there were no chains, no cords, yet his body would not obey his will, and even the attempt to turn his head was of no avail. He was not dazed after the manner of a man waking from some horrific dream; his mind was alive and clear, and he knew with dismaying certainty that he was not dreaming, but was in truth immobilized. It was as if he had been turned to stone.
Turned to stone! The Enchantress had told him that he would be turned to stone temporarily when he met the servants of the Dragon. Had she then betrayed him into their hands? She would not do such a thing. Yet tonight she had seemed unsure, reluctant, and she had admitted the Dragon to be a danger to her. Could it be that she herself had been bewitched by a power stronger than her own?
At this thought Georyn’s terror nearly overwhelmed him; for if any evil had befallen the Enchantress, what possible hope could there be either for himself or for his quest? Worse, the idea of harm being done to her was unbearable. Then all at once his eye fell upon the Stone, which he now saw had been bound to his belt by means of a leather thong thrust through its hole. And the Stone comforted him, for the Lady had not been unsure when she had given it into his hands.
Had she not warned him that he would be placed in a terrifying situation that he could not hope to understand? And had she not clearly implied that the Stone would guard him from harm? It would avail little to give in to despair; he had been sent hither to learn, and learn he must if he was to benefit from that magic. Yet he knew not what powers the Stone would give him, save that it would in some manner ensure the potency of the charm that had failed Terwyn.
Looking up then, Georyn beheld a large sphere of some cold, shining substance, and it hovered above him; but as he watched, it began to fall slowly. Before long, surely, it would crush him. Perceiving that there was but one defense, he mentally formed the words of the charm and commanded the sphere to stop.
And indeed, it did stop. Yet he found that his mind must not wander, lest the sphere descend once more; and at this Georyn’s heart was again filled with dread. Never during the encounters with the dark wizard had he been able to keep control of an object for more than a few minutes. Still, perhaps the Stone would give him this strength; he could but trust that it would be so, for he had no other recourse.
Then suddenly there arose a fearsome sound, a sound that grew in intensity until it became a deafening roar like nothing ever heard upon the earth. Georyn quailed; he was pierced by sound, it was unendurable. And how could the charm help him against an intangible thing? In panic, he let his mastery of the spell falter, and to his horror the sphere came plunging down upon him. It did not crush him after all. Rather, the surface of it burned with a cold fire the very touch of which was agony.
He had not thought that such would be allowed to happen. Out of his pain came awareness that mere possession of the Stone would not protect him; the Lady had told him truly that its powers would be hard won. Seeing naught else that could offer any hope, Georyn in desperation invoked the charm again—and thereupon the pain was gone, even as the sphere rose to the top of the little chamber. So too, instantly, was the sound. Joyfully then did he realize that he could fight all that assailed him simply by controlling the sphere.
But holding the thing motionless near the ceiling did not prove to be enough. All too soon the ear-shattering sound swept over him once more, and with it another sort of pain, the source of which he could not pinpoint; it was not severe, but he guessed that it would become so if he took no action. And the sphere could be raised no higher!
Georyn could not believe that the Enchantress had intended him to suffer. He was sure, therefore, that she had provided a means of deliverance and had meant him to find the way to use it. He was totally helpless physically; his mental control over the sphere was his sole weapon—so what course was open to him other than to deliberately lower that sphere? Resolutely he tried it, and at once both the sound and the pain receded, only to return as soon as he allowed the sphere’s motion to cease.
And with that, Georyn understood what was demanded of him. He was required to keep the sphere moving. Though this was a task of far greater difficulty than that of causing it to remain poised in one spot, he found himself equal to it. Knowing that it would not have been so, had he not been faced with an intolerable alternative, he perceived that there was much wisdom in the Lady’s way of teaching. In truth, there was naught to be feared in this business of being bewitched. But he was shaken with weariness now, and since the ordeal showed no signs of terminating, he was doubtless to be presented with yet another lesson.
It was not long in coming, for in the ceiling of the cell there suddenly appeared a huge window looking out upon the enchanted realm. And the scenes the window revealed were fascinating indeed, although they shifted continually in a most disquieting fashion, a fashion that seemed in no way natural. Georyn could not take his eyes from them; whether they were fair or frightening, he was inescapably absorbed. But alas, in turning his thought thither, he lost control of the sphere and was clutched by pain once more. Easily enough could he stop it by giving his attention to the charm, but time after time he was drawn irresistibly back to the wondrous view that was unfolding before him.
Georyn felt as if he were being torn in two. For it was not in him to close his mind to such marvels as he was now being shown; yet neither could he resign himself to pain. Surely for this too there must be an answer. At length he found it. Struggling to maintain the steady motion of the sphere despite his inability to ignore the enchanted window, he made a discovery: no need was there to devote his whole thought to the spell in order to control it. The new, magical function of his mind could be pushed aside and yet continued, even as the movement of his legs would require but little attention were he walking. It was not so hard, once he had grasped the idea. Gradually he gained confidence; the Stone was giving him resources beyond all expectation. No longer did the sphere slip from his command, and there was no more pain.
Then for a time Georyn beheld wonders the like of which he had never seen even in dreams. Some were terrifying—a hideous, snarling beast, a series of fiery bursts accompanied by thunder—but he soon realized that he would come to no harm from them; they were merely another manifestation of the spell under which he had been placed. And others were not dreadful, but only strange: there was a tremendous cluster of sparkling towers, for instance, that made him long to rise and step forward onto the silver-paved roadway that led to it; for he could see people there, vast crowds of people clothed in colors more brilliant and varied than the silks of a king. The sound he heard, too, was more pleasing than threatening; although it was unlike anything of which he had ever dreamt, it reminded him of music.
Suddenly, without warning, the window disappeared and there was silence. The Enchantress stood before him; reaching up for the sphere, she took it into her hands. It did not burn her, but neither could she hold it; it continued to rise, gently, while she stared at it in puzzlement. Then with quick understanding she turned to Georyn. “Let it go!” she said, laughing. “You are too good at this now!”
Georyn released the sphere, and the Lady removed it from the chamber. In a few moments she came back to him; her hand rested on his arm, and he felt a sharp sting, after which tingling heat coursed through him, rapidly fading. “Stretch your limbs,” she told him. “They will move again.”
Finding that this was true, Georyn sat up. “The Stone has powers past belief,” he said slowly. “I—I was only beginning to tap them.”
She smiled. “You see what I meant. Its strength grows as you learn. Can you forgive me for subjecting you to this, Georyn?”
“There is nothing to forgive. It was not terrible after the beginning. The last of it, indeed, was in itself worth what had gone before; I would not have been sorry to see it continue.”
The Enchantress sighed, saying, “I know, and I hope that that will not prove to be the worst of the whole affair. I do not want you to be hurt.”
To Georyn, her meaning was all too clear. The helplessness, the brief touches of pain, were now over with and he had taken no harm from them. But the memory of that magical window was something else again; having been given a glimpse, he now wanted more than a glimpse, and he suspected that he was not going to get it. “Lady, where are we?” he said wonderingly. “What is this place?”
“I am not permitted to tell you, nor may you know how you leave it.” In her other hand, she held a steaming cup, which she now extended to him. “Drink this now. Do not be afraid; it will only make you sleep.”
Georyn sipped the drink; it was hot and had a pungent flavor that was not unpleasant. “Guarded by such enchantment,” he told her, “I do not think that I shall be afraid of anything! But the Stone has indeed its perils, and they are not as I imagined them.”
“Ah, Georyn, you do not know them all; nor, I fear, do I,” sighed the Lady. She sat beside him, cupping her hand around the Stone, and for a moment spoke less to him than to herself. “Is it by this that a mighty Dragon shall be overcome? I dare not guess where it will lead us! A stone’s so very small a thing to change the fate of a world.”