“No! No!” Kelvin cried, reaching for the crystal. He would not do it! He would not, though it happened over and over in a countless number of crystals a countless number of times. No crystal was going to make him do what he refused to do!
“Watch!” Bloorg said for the third time.
Kelvin controlled himself as well as he could. The miniature Kelvin did not destroy the chimaera with the sting. Instead it happened the way it had in life. Now he and Stapular were fighting, rolling over and over. Now Stapular was pulling off his own left hand, and the ruby light declawed the chimaera. Now the creature was at the mercy of Stapular.
“No! No!” Kelvin protested again, but the crystal merely showed what had happened. Gradually he realized that the image was not a separate thing, but an actual rendering of what had occurred, and could not change the outcome. The miniature Kelvin had out his sword, threw it, and Stapular appeared to die. Now the Mervania head and Kelvin were talking.
At the wave of a strange hand the picture vanished and there was only a smoky crystal in which the tendrils of smoke gradually stopped swirling. There was nothing there anymore except stone.
Kelvin's heart had been beating hard. He felt breathless, as though he had been running. The picture-show was over and he was back, though he had never left. Again he wished he were back in his old familiar, normal world with Heln and his mother Charlain and even his irritating sister Jon, who were surely leading a dull and safe existence.
“What will happen to the oil-blooded man?” he asked.
“The robot will be returned to its makers,” Bloorg said. “They may or may not repair it.”
“So Stapular may live again?” Did robots actually live? What was living? Stapular had spoken of them as though the living folk were inferior to it in every way.
“It may again be activated, but such a construct will never again deceive us, and none will get close to the chimaera. We owe you our thanks for discovering and nullifying that threat, which would surely otherwise have destroyed the last member of a unique species. We had been aware that Stapular was artificial, but not that he had a built-in laser. As for those doubts of yours about the nature of living, who is to say? There are scientists and sorcerers who hold that there is only thought and that all else is thought's product.”
“I-- I don't think I can absorb-- “
“Never mind. It is only philosophical and abstract. What is important to us is what we perceive. What we accept as real, is real, and what we know to be illusion is generally illusion.”
“I ... see,” Kelvin said, not seeing. Ask a simple question, get a lecture in metaphysics with particular emphasis on epistemology. From near infancy he had thought he had more sense.
“That is correct,” Bloorg said. “He survives best who does not question too vigorously.”
“Stapular won't be back to bother the chimaera again?” He wanted to be quite sure he had understood that correctly.
“Never.”
Good enough. He was more than ready to go home.
“But you will return with the seeds,” Bloorg reminded him.
“But you said-- “
“Correct. You will not go to the island. You will bring the seeds here. They will be carried there by a froogear I designate.”
Oh. “You will be waiting? I won't have to-- “
Bloorg tapped the crystal. “I will keep watch.”
“We will find the same setting? On the transporter?”
Bloorg seemed to have infinite patience. “You will if you look. Come.”
They followed Bloorg to the transporter cave and inside. Bloorg showed them the dial on the transporter and where it was set. “Remember this mark. Turn the arrow until it points here exactly. This is where you will need to set the control in order to return. Remember this, all of you.”
John nodded. “I don't think I could possibly forget.”
“Now you wish to return home. Here is your home marking. Place the dial exactly, or you may go to a world that is not the one you left, such as the serpent world, here.” He indicated another setting.
Kelvin reached out and twisted the dial until it clicked at the &, a symbol that reminded him of a coiling dragon but might stand for something else. He had seen his father make a symbol like that while writing. The other setting Bloorg had indicated had a ∼ symbol, obviously a serpent.
“You will return now,” Bloorg said, and disappeared with a definite pop and a slight scent of ozone.
“Well, Father, Kian-- ” Kelvin hated to do this, but had to ask. “We had been about to go to the serpent world-- “
“I want to see Lonny first,” Kian said. “Maybe we can get married right away, and then-- “
Kelvin had been afraid he would say that. “Bloorg wanted us to return to our own world now. Maybe we should go there first, and then-- ” Then Kelvin could make an excuse to stay in his own frame.
“Bloorg doesn't know Lonny.”
“Boys,” their father interposed. “Can't we compromise? We brought dragonberries with us, but the jar of seeds labeled ‘Astral Berries’ was left in the installation by Mouvar. I suspect the seeds are still there. Kelvin, you could go back and get them while Kian and I wait here.”
Kelvin frowned. Were “astral berries” and “dragon-berries” really the same, as his father assumed? Was the jar still there? It seemed to him now that he hadn't noticed it. Someone had changed the setting on the transporter or the three of them would not have ended up here. Whoever had used the transporter could have taken the seeds. Could it, he wondered, have been Mouvar? If so, what did it mean?
“Well, Kelvin?”
But if the jar remained there, this would be the easiest way to settle things. He could bring it back, give it to Bloorg, then explain that he was worried about Heln, and beg off the trip to the serpent world. “All right.”
He took a firm grip on his resolve and stepped into the closet with all the clocks on the outside.
The usual things happened. He stepped out of the closet into the familiar chamber. Things looked the same. Nothing had changed a bit since he and his father and brother had left. Still, he was nervous. Any slight oversight could land him in serious trouble, as the recent adventure had shown.
He checked the table. As he had feared, the jar of seeds was missing.
Well, then, he would have to check to see if the boat was still on its ledge. He crossed the chamber, ducked his head out, saw the boat, and sniffed at the underground river. Time to return.
He checked to make certain the setting was for the chimaera's world-- the # mark, surely for squarears-- and stepped back into the closet. When he stepped out, nothing had changed in the chimaera's world except one thing:
His father and brother were gone.
*
Kian had no difficulty in persuading his father. “We'll just hop over and make certain we remember this setting. If we're wrong, we'll hop right back. Bloorg can almost certainly set the control right if I misremember.” Kelvin had been standing before the control when Bloorg discussed it, so they hadn't seen the actual settings he had indicated to Kelvin.
“I think it was just before this mark.” His father pointed at the & mark.
“I think, Father, that it was just one of the five intervening clicks short.” He set it on the % mark.
“You want to try it that way?”
“Yes.” Kian was so eager to reach Lonny that he was sure it was right.
“All right. Just be prepared to step out and then back if it's not the right world. That's what we should have done last time.” John wasn't worried, because he knew they could check several settings if they had to, until they got the right one. Just so long as they didn't smell any spice!
“Yes, Father.” Together they stepped into the closet.
They did not see the same display they had a moment ago when Kelvin exited, but then they were in a slightly more familiar chamber with a soft bluish curtain of light at its far end and a large glowing EX
IT sign.
“Come on, Father!” Kian said eagerly, starting across the smooth floor.
“Wait, Kian! You agreed we'd go right back.”
“We will. I just want to step outside and make certain!”
There was no stopping him! Talk about your anxious bridegrooms! John started after him-- and noticed something.
“There was dust on the floor before. We left our footprints in it. This chamber is clean! Either this is a different chamber, or someone's been here.” John wasn't easy with either explanation; both meant trouble.
But Kian was already ducking through the shimmering curtain. He was as unconcerned as though it were sunshine. Not for the first time John had to marvel at how quickly they all adjusted to the unfamiliar and utterly strange. Still, the boy needed to learn proper caution.
“It's here, Father! The ledge, the ladder, and the tree! This has to be right!”
But John had doubts. “Come back inside!”
“All right. Just let me get a breath of-- “
John waited for him to finish. When he did not, he grew alarmed. Fearful now, yet determined, he crossed to the glowing curtain and stepped through.
Outside. Fresh air. Beautiful day. High on a cliffside. He looked back. The illusion of a solid rock wall just behind was perfect. If this was technology, and he felt it was, the scientists responsible deserved congratulations.
But where was Kian? He advanced to the edge of the cliff. The ladder was there, made of something unfamiliar on Earth, a woven metallic substance he suspected would never age.
“Kian? Kian?” He was really worried now.
There was no answer. Had the lad climbed down into the tree below? Then why wasn't the ladder over the edge of the cliff and dangling down into the branches?
Fear prickled at him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He didn't want to leave Kian but his every instinct told him to return. Better to fetch Kelvin and come back for an organized search than to risk getting caught by whatever had happened to Kian.
He started around, ready to duck through the curtain. At that moment human hands reached from apparently solid rock and laid hold of his arms.
For an instant he thought the hands were Kian's. Then he saw that they were larger, and had dark hairs on their backs. This was someone else!
He had only time to grasp this before he was pulled forward, against a rock face that vanished to become a blue curtain of shimmering light at a spot he knew he had not left.
CHAPTER 16
Charlain
Charlain arrived at the palace at noon. In her bag on the dappled gray plowhorse were only her fortune cards and the remains of the lunch she had prepared. She had thought about bringing herbs in case Heln had nausea or other child-carrying complaints. Then she had realized that the doctor here was the best and that she wasn't versed in anything other than amateur prophecy.
How grateful she should be for that one lone skill, she thought, dismounting from her horse and turning the reins over to the stable groom. True, it had deceived her at times. She had known she would lose Hal after a time and she had feared it would be by death. Better to another woman, she had tried to believe. Better to have him happy than to have him destroyed. But what would John think of it? What would his decision be, should he ever return? The cards so far had revealed nothing.
“Mama! Mama! I'm so glad to see you!”
A sudden tattoo of feet and the shock of collision. A slim boyish figure was suddenly in her arms, hugging her as though life had trickled to its inevitable end.
“Not so hard, Jon, not so hard! Goodness, I can hardly breathe! Only boys are supposed to hug this hard, you roughneck!” She held her daughter back at arm's length. Long yellow hair, greenish eyes, properly filled bosom-- she had produced a beauty! She and John. To think that when the children had left on their great adventure with the dragon, really not that long ago, Jon had more resembled the tow-haired skinny boy than the rapidly maturing girl she had actually been. Now Jon was satisfied to be all girl, and that was just as well.
Without knowing why she did so, Charlain reached out and tweaked her daughter's pointy ears. She had done that years ago, mostly from affection. Jon had always resented it because her big brother hadn't ear tips that could be tweaked as effectively.
“How's Heln?” No sense in delaying it. Get right to the problem.
“She's . . . doing well.” Jon's tone nullified her words, just as they had when as a child she'd tried to conceal the full truth.
“You're hiding something.” Just sharp enough to make her answer.
“Mother, why would I do that? You're the one who reads cards. You know everything.”
Yes, Jon would still think that. Charlain permitted herself a smile. She walked meekly with her daughter into the royal palace holding her hand. Not long ago it had been she who had led her daughter.
Into the guest wing and down the hall, through a door, and they were there. Heln was sitting up in bed. Brown eyes gleaming, black hair shining as she brushed. She appeared well. Considering what the cards had shown, Charlain wondered.
“Heln.” Simple, careful greeting to a daughter-in-law.
“Mother-in-law!” Heln put down the hairbrush on the comforter. Her tone was right but her action seemed mechanical.
They embraced. Heln seemed rigid, not at all the warm girl Charlain had met when she and Kelvin and his bride visited. Something was definitely wrong. She wished that she had been a little less mortal and had studied witchcraft. The cards actually told her very little, however much they suggested.
“You are feeling well, Heln?” A direct question seemed indicated.
“Yes.” Almost mechanical, as had been her careful setting down of the hairbrush. Not at all as Charlain would have expected Kelvin's expectant wife to answer.
“She had sickness in the mornings,” Jon said. As usual, she was volunteering information when she had the chance. “Dr. Sterk gave me something for her. I put it in her tefee.”
“It helped?” Morning sickness was not unusual. She had experienced it while carrying both Kelvin and Jon.
“Cleaned it right up. She hasn't heaved since.”
No smile from Heln. Yet Jon's words should have evoked one. Her daughter was a lady, but she did not always use a lady's words.
“We've got a lot of catching up to do,” Charlain said, taking the chair Jon brought. “All the news, family and general.”
“But Mother, you know everything!” Jon said, and laughed. Still no smile from Heln. She seemed as humorless now as when Jon had found her in Franklin's notorious Girl Market, where she had been raped. Indeed, her attempted suicide by eating dragonberries, then, had opened up the whole new world of astral separation, and given her reason to live after all.
“I'm really not too clear on this war situation. How'd we get into it? My cards won't tell.”
“Well, Mother,” Jon said, heaving a sigh. She was being quite formal, now, for her, in contrast to her private greeting. That was another signal of trouble. “The situation is complicated.”
“Many situations are. Are you implying, Daughter, that your mother can't understand?”
“I can't understand it myself, Mother. Why Kelvin's away or why Lester's fighting. In many ways it doesn't make sense.”
“Start from the beginning.” Charlain took Jon's hand in hers, in much the way she had when she had wanted her to tell about some school fight.
“All right, Mother. We were all of us summoned to the palace and briefed by ... by the king.”
“King Rufurt?”
“Y-yes.”
A lie. The tremble in Jon's hands said it clearly. Jon was not a trembler by nature except when she lied. For some reason Jon wished to conceal something about their king. Could it be that their king was not who he seemed? If this was true it explained the uncertainty card. Charlain felt a prickle on the back of her neck.
Later, when she was alone, Charlain laid out the cards again, checking on the
things that had disturbed her most about her daughter's narration. Rather than ease her concern, this made the prickling much worse. Heln was in terrible trouble, about which Charlain could do nothing. But Lester, Jon's husband, was also in dire straits, and about this she could do something.
*
In the morning Charlain surprised Jon if not Heln by saying goodbye. “I have to get back to the farm. Hal's a dear, taking care of the livestock, and I know Easter will keep the garden weeded, but I don't want to impose on them.”
“Mother,” Jon said, taking her arm and leading her aside, “how can you-- ?”
“Because I'm not angry with them. Either of them.”
“But-- “
“I always knew I'd lose Hal, but the cards didn't explain. When the romance card came up, I knew. It was a relief! Better that he live a happy life than that he die. He was a good father to you and Kelvin and he worked hard. He never intended to do what he did; it was fated.”
“But Mother, if Lester ever did such a thing, I'd-- “
“Yes, of course you would, dear. But your foster father isn't Lester. It was in the cards. He really couldn't help it.”
“But to start a child with that woman! That wasn't right!”
“No, of course it wasn't. But then your natural father succumbed to the queen of Rud and had a son named Kian. The marriage wasn't dissolved when he met me.”
“But Mother, Zoanna betrayed her vows! You-- “
“It's not the same, Jon. Easter is a good woman. Simple, young, but good. Hal loves her and she him. I declared us divorced for their sakes. My marriage to Hal is now over. His marriage to her is valid. They have a difficult enough course, setting up a homestead, without my making it worse.”
“So you let them use your homestead!” Jon said bitterly. “How nice for them!” Her tone said that she would never have been that generous. “You're helping them get set up, by giving them free board, and even paying them for taking care of your farm!”
“Hush, hush. You mustn't sound that way. He was a good husband to me, and a good father to you, when we thought your real father dead.”