Fractal Mode

CHAPTER 6—ANGUS

DARIUS nodded, watching. He was tired, but he still did not care to let Colene go into a strange world alone. An ant, twenty times the size of what he had known. That would be the least of it. What about the birds and snakes?

“Seqiro, can you stun animals?” he inquired, not raising his voice. He had found that it was not the sound, but the thought that counted; the speech tended to focus the thought suitably. The horse was with Colene, but well within mental range. Darius wanted their dialogue to be private, and the horse could pick that up too, and would honor it.

I can, if their minds are not closed. Human minds tend to be guarded, even in realities where telepathy is not known, but animal minds tend to be open. I have been fortunate in my ability to attune to the minds of the smaller folk, perhaps because some of these are animar like Nona.

“Then you may be our main protection against monsters, as well as our main means of communication with the human giants here.”

I will do what I can.

He turned to Nona. The young woman was spread out on her magically made pillow-mattress, attractive though she wasn’t trying to be. “Can you conjure weapons?” Again, Seqiro could pick up both the thought and the person for whom it was intended. Also, which thought was to be relayed, and which was not. Darius was really coming to appreciate the horse’s ability.

“Yes,” she replied, in her own language. “But I am not expert in their use.”

“Some weapons do not require expertise. Colene has told me of guns.”

“Of what?”

“Colene, describe a gun for Nona.”

Colene, now dipping water from a pond that was probably no more than a puddle to this world, obliged with a mental picture of a small metal object with a short tube projecting.

“I can not fetch such a thing, for I know of none,” Nona said. “I can make something that looks similar, if you wish.”

“That won’t work,” Colene said. “They have to be made exactly right, and have bullets.”

“Bullets?”

“Little bits of metal that shoot out.”

“I do not understand how that could be a weapon.”

Darius sympathized, for he found the notion confusing too. “No guns,” he said. “Knives, spears—they should help.”

“Illusions can be effective too,” she said. “Often they can fool the animals, so there is no need for violence.”

“Yes, Colene used an illusion to thwart Knave Naylor,” Darius agreed with satisfaction. “Seqiro can do that, in a fashion. But his illusions are strictly in the mind of the person he touches, no one else.”

“Yes, it is a marvelous power,” she agreed. “My illusions are visible to everyone; I can not limit them like that.”

“The two of you, working together, should be able to discourage almost anything.”

“It is nice to be with Seqiro,” she said.

Darius realized that Nona, despite her powers, was basically an innocent woman, lacking some of the hard edges Colene had. She hardly seemed the type to change a world. Perhaps it was just as well that she had fallen in with their party, because things were bound to get un-innocent soon enough. “Yes, it is nice,” he agreed.

Colene and Provos returned with water. “But I could have conjured that,” Nona protested.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Colene reminded her. “I’m going to forage something to cook.”

“But I can transform—” Nona started. Then Darius’ warning thought registered: it was a thing Colene needed to do. So she compromised by transforming a hair into a fine tuber, then floating it quietly to a place where Colene would soon find it. Darius did not protest; he was in doubt about the safety of natural food here. It could be spoiled or poisonous, despite seeming all right.

They made a meal from the tuber, and this worked well, because it was by no coincidence of the type that became delicious when boiled. Then they formed a barricade-shelter by the base of a towering tree, walling the huge world out. It was large enough to include Seqiro. It seemed snug and safe, but Darius knew that any large animal could crush it with one foot. He still felt insecure.

Then he had an idea. “Nona, can you make an illusion that will remain without further effort?”

“Yes, as long as I am near it.”

“Can you make an illusion of the base of the tree covering this shelter, so that it seems to be part of the tree from outside?”

“I can do that. Do you want it to smell like the tree also?”

“Yes! Excellent. That will camouflage us, so maybe we won’t be bothered.”

Even so, they decided to take turns awake, watching. There were peepholes in the shelter facing in four directions: east, south, west, and up. If there was anything suspicious, Seqiro was supposed to be awakened first, and if he verified hostility or hunger near, he would alert the others.

Fortunately there was no emergency, and they were able to get a fairly good night’s rest.

Darius had the first watch. The others settled down, but Colene remained awake. It seemed she wanted to talk to him. Probably the horse remained awake too, connecting their minds. “Why were you hugging Nona?”

Oh. He should have known that she would not forget that detail, from the time he had been with the woman and horse. “I do not care to conjure more than one person at a time, so I had to carry her.”

“Why not?”

“That is the natural safe limit of sympathetic magic,” he explained. “A person can conjure himself or another person, but it is not wise to—”

“Back in your home reality, maybe. But here maybe things are different. Did you ever try more than one here?”

He was surprised. “This is possible. I shall have to try.” He marked two circles on the ground, almost touching because there was little room. Then he brought out the Darius and Colene icons. “If you will—”

“Gotcha.” She moved so as to stand wedged beside him in one circle.

He invoked the two icons, then moved them toward the other circle. He moved—and so did she. Now they were wedged together in the other circle. “It is different here! I can not transfer joy, but I do seem to be able to conjure simultaneously with assurance.” He could tell by the feel of it.

“So now you won’t have to hug Nona any more.”

He looked down at her. “That is unfortunate.” Then they laughed.

Nona took the next watch, and Darius lay down. But Colene remained awake. Darius could sleep when he chose, but was curious about Colene’s next move. Was she going to tell Nona what she had told him?

Not so. “You don’t wear anything under your tunic,” Colene said.

“That is true,” Nona agreed. “No one does, unless it is cold.”

“Men don’t either?”

“It is unnecessary. The tunic covers everything.”

“What about when the wind blows hard?”

“It is not hard to keep a tunic in place.”

“But don’t your breasts sag?”

“Sag? Yes, with age. That is natural.”

“Well, I have news for you. They look better and last better if they are supported. The flesh doesn’t get pulled out of shape. Here, I’ll show you.” Colene pulled off her tunic, revealing her crudely torn and tied halter and pants. “See, I don’t have nearly the stuff you do, but when I have the right uplift, it looks almost as if I do. And if I wear the right kind of pants, my tummy looks better too.”

“That is true!” Nona agreed, intrigued. “And such a garment prevents the deterioration of age?”

“Sure. Let me show you the design, and you can make me a good bra and panties.”

“Yes. Then I will make them for myself.”

Darius knew that Colene was doing this so that Nona would no longer expose her torso when she changed tunics, or bounce as obviously when she walked. That was just as well; he had found Nona’s body to be most distracting, whether viewed from a distance or held close. He had tried to do the proper thing, and not look, but the responsibility to hide her private flesh was really the woman’s. It would be better yet if both of them wore full female diapers, but he knew it would be useless to suggest that. The women of other cultures simply lacked the appropriate modesty of those of his own reality. Colene exposed herself deliberately, to taunt him, and Nona did so because she felt it was all right when washing among friends; both were driving him moderately mad.

He allowed himself to drift to sleep, while Nona used her magic to make the type of garments Colene wanted. He was glad that Colene was taking a positive approach. He did not care to risk her negative approach.

When he woke, he found a pair of undershorts beside him. Colene had arranged for him to be clothed under his tunic too. He put them on without comment.

NEXT day they set out for a suitable Megaplayer. They did this by helping Nona to gain a local familiar, which was a large (to them) bird, then conjuring themselves as a group to the promising sites the bird spotted. Several such jumps took them onto a larger head of Jupiter, where farms were spotted. Nona had a certain sense about which native person might be amenable to their approach, and Seqiro verified this. But it was Provos who was decisive: she did not remember the first prospect, or the second, or the third. Darius trusted her memory, so they kept searching until Provos acquiesced. So it was that they came to the house of an artisan who lived alone.

This was an older man garbed in green who carved intricately in wood and stone. Plaques, statuettes, and linked figures filled his shelves. There were several musical instruments of exactly the type and size they had seen by the seaside cliff on Oria. The giant’s mind was open; he responded immediately to Seqiro’s first questing thought. Just like that, they had communication with a Megaplayer.

“We need your help,” Darius said to the man.

“I hear you, but I do not see you,” the giant responded, looking around.

“We are from Oria, a smaller world. We seek to bring the anima.”

“Then show yourselves.”

Nona made an illusion picture, so large that the man could see it without difficulty. It showed the group of them.

“A man, three women, and a horse, all in little-world scale,” the giant said. “This is not the way the animus passes.”

Nona stepped forward, in the image. “I am the ninth of the ninth,” she said. “I can bring the anima—but I need the help of the Megaplayers.”

The giant considered the image. Darius, viewing it with a man’s eye, knew it was impressive. Nona was about as pretty a young woman as could be found, in form and feature. Colene’s advice about the supportive undergarment now caused Nona’s bosom to manifest magnificently despite the unflattering tunic. She was also nice, and Seqiro was sending the impression of that niceness to the giant. Even though there was such a disparity in size that she could never be a romantic prospect for such a man, such an image and impression had to be highly conducive. It was for Darius, who was as surely barred from her as was the giant, for different reason.

But the man waggled a finger at them warningly, now looking directly at them where they stood on the sill. “Do not seek to use your magic on me,” he said. As he spoke, he floated up, not far, but it was clear that his feet no longer touched the floor. A knife appeared in his hand, became a hammer, and floated back to its tool-box.

“You are a despot!” Nona exclaimed, astonished and dismayed. “But you are not in black!”

“I am a man,” the giant replied. “Call me Angus. Not all of those with magic choose to be despotic. Some prefer to be creative. I wear green because I am uncommitted to any class or creed.”

That was evidently true. This man lived alone and was a craftsman, though he was not compelled to do or be either. He had no concern with status; that was why Seqiro had not picked up on it. But his magic and his mind made him dangerous. He could destroy them in an instant, if he chose.

“I am Nona. How can I convince you?”

“I know something of this matter,” Angus said. “I have no special commitment to the existing order, and am willing to see it change. But the man could be doing the magic, and you may be a pretender trying to deceive me. You must demonstrate your special power of anima.”

Nona hesitated. “But I do not know what this is,” she said. “That is why I have come to you.”

Darius hoped that this confession did not destroy her credibility. It was true that a despot man would have all the powers of magic Nona could show, so that only in the absence of the others could she demonstrate it. But it would not be wise for them to separate. The giant might simply make her captive in a cage secured by magic, and none of her talents would free her then. Of course Darius would be able to conjure her out, but that would prove only his magic, not hers.

“The true harbinger of anima will have the power of music,” Angus said.

“I can play!” Nona said. “All my life—”

“This is more than training,” Angus said. “This is the most subtle but powerful magic, apart from the invocation of the anima itself. It is the power to persuade any person of any world to do your will. To serve you voluntarily, and never betray you. Play that music for me, and I will serve you. I will not do so otherwise.”

“But I can not—would not want to compel—”

“You would give up your destiny?”

“No!”

“Then put it to the test, little woman. Play.”

“But I did not bring my instruments!”

Angus arched a brow. “You lack the magic of compaction?” The hammer reappeared in his hand. Then it shrank, becoming a miniature of itself. When it was so small it would fit Nona’s hand, it floated to her at the sill.

She caught it, surprised. “I can’t do that.” She reconsidered. “That is, not that way. I could transform it into something else which is larger or smaller, of a different substance, then reshape it, but it would not be exactly the same in detail.”

“Try it, Nona,” he said. “Restore it to proper size.”

She looked doubtfully at the hammer, and concentrated.

The hammer expanded.

Nona was so surprised she dropped it. But it hovered as if caught by an unseen hand; Angus had used his magic. It remained as it had been when her hand left it, about twice its prior size.

She took it again, and it resumed its growth. It became as large as she was, and larger, so that she no longer supported it; instead she merely touched it while it floated. When it was a monster four times her body length she removed her hand. She had done it.

“So you have that magic,” Angus said, as the hammer floated back to him. “But is it yours—or the man’s?” He glanced at Darius.

“My magic differs,” Darius said. He brought out his icon, marked two circles, designated them in his mind, and moved the doll from one to the other. In this manner he conjured himself to the sill on the opposite side of the room. “I am here,” he said from behind the giant.

“That was not illusion,” Angus said. “Now I am impressed. There is no magic of this nature on this world.”

“I am from another reality. Our magic is sympathetic.”

“You also have the mind-talk?”

“No. That is Seqiro, the horse. He is from still another reality.”

“And the old and young women?”

“From two other realities,” Darius said. “One remembers what is to come, and the other deals in science, which is another specialized form of magic.”

“You are a remarkable group!” Angus exclaimed.

“But we need your help, for our separate reasons,” Darius said.

“Let Nona play, and I may be persuaded,” Angus said.

“But I have no dulcimer,” Nona protested. “I can not make one that would work; I lack the craftsmanship. Had I realized that I could do the magic of compaction—I did not know it was possible—I would have brought it along. Do you have one that—?”

“I do not,” Angus said firmly. “But if I did, I would not lend it to you. The instrument must be of your world, for your magic to work with it. All folk are linked to their worlds, and draw on the magic of their worlds, even when on other worlds. If you are anima, you are anima for your world only; the rule differs for my world.”

Darius realized that that made sense. Nona was magical because she was the ninth of the ninth, and that surely was the requirement for Oria. It would not be for Jupiter.

Nona was appalled. “But to go all the way back for my dulcimer—”

“There may be an alternative,” Angus said. “I am something of an archaeologist, my interest being in tracing the routes of the diaspora of original mankind. On occasion there are items, left behind. There is a site not far from here which I have worked intermittently, as my interest allows. There may be a suitable instrument there, in the section I have not yet done. My illusion pictures are indistinct, but I think there is a dulcimer. If you can fetch it without disturbing the rest of the site, you can use that one.””

“Why not just conjure it here?” Darius asked.

“Because the site would collapse into the hole left by its vacancy,” Angus said. “That would not be expedient excavation.”

“What does a collapse matter?” Darius asked, perplexed.

Colene interceded. “It matters,” she said. “I was on a dig once—it was only a one-afternoon class, sort of, but I learned some things. They don’t want to disturb anything until they survey it in, or it messes up the tally. They can learn things from the context, like what’s above and below it. But if things get hopelessly jumbled, that’s no good.”

“The one from the science world,” Angus said approvingly.

“Very well: no disturbance,” Darius said, still not quite understanding the importance, but pleased that Colene had made an impression. “Where is this place?”

“Follow me,” Angus said, floating toward the door.

“Wait!” Darius cried. “Only Nona can fly. The rest of us have to conjure.”

“Then come here,” the giant said, holding out his hand.

Darius looked at Provos. She was already nodding, anticipating his query in the way she had. It was safe.

He conjured them in turn to the waiting hand, stepping each icon there: Provos, Colene, Seqiro, and himself. He might have done them as a group, but he remained in doubt just how safe that was, and there was no need at the moment. Nona floated independently, ready to follow.

Angus closed his hand gently about them. They each stood the height of one of his fingers: Darius matched the middle one, Provos the index, and Colene the little. Nona would have matched the next smallest finger. The horse’s head was higher than any, but that didn’t count: Seqiro had the giant’s other hand to himself, being too big to share the first one.

Angus floated out and up, with Nona trailing. They flew over the tremendous trees. “Like an airplane,” Colene breathed, unafraid. Provos also seemed to be enjoying the experience, remembering its safe conclusion. Seqiro could tell from the giant’s mind that no harm was intended. That left only Darius nervous, though he tried to conceal it. The travel along the filaments had been like icon conjuring, under his shared control, but this was different. If he should fall—

He felt a hand take his. Colene, offering comfort. As she had when they had first met, in her reality.

His love for her manifested explosively. She was young, and often hard to adjust to, but she was the one. Once they made it back to his reality she would not be his wife, but she would be his love. What a blessing that would be!

He felt her love returning. They were connected, by Seqiro’s ability, and she had received his feeling. That was all they needed.

Angus descended. The flight was ending, and Darius had entirely lost track of it.

They settled by an overgrown hillside. The mountain was honeycombed with caves, many far too small for Angus. It was becoming clearer why excavation was no easy matter; the giant would have to remove everything from the front of a cave to get at the back of it. But they, being so much smaller, could enter and go directly to the spot they wanted.

“I used an insect as a familiar and verified that there were small-world artifacts within this cave,” Angus said, setting them down before it. “I believe they are from your world, Oria as you call it. But I had no immediate need to excavate here, so left it undisturbed.”

Colene assessed the situation. “We’ll have to shore it up where we dig or take anything,” she said. “So it won’t fill in. We’ll need planks or something.”

“That did not occur to me,” Angus said, surprised.

“That is because your magic is not science,” Colene said smugly.

“I can make planks,” Nona said.

Colene peered into the cave. It was originally larger, but the base had been filled in by refuse so that only the top of it remained open. A man could walk inside if he stooped. “We can’t all go in there,” she said. “We’d just make a traffic jam.”

“A what?” Nona asked.

Colene made an image of metal boxlike objects with wheels at their bases lined up on a road, just sitting there. This evidently made no sense to Nona, but Darius was able to fathom it, having seen such vehicles in Colene’s reality. It seemed that at times there were too many of them for the road to hold. “We would get in each other’s way,” he explained.

“Then I will go in alone to fetch the instrument,” Nona said.

“No.” It was Provos. She indicated Darius.

“I’m to go with her?” he asked, but was receiving the affirmative before he finished speaking.

Darius looked at Colene. “The rest of us will stay out here and talk with Angus,” Colene said.

So it was decided. “Light,” Darius said, not liking the darkness in the depth of the cave. He had saved some of Colene’s matches, which were little science-sticks for making fire, but Nona made light simply by fashioning an illusion of a lamp.

Darius thought about that as they moved in. An illusion which cast real light. Wasn’t it then a real lamp? The point of a lamp was to make light; it didn’t have to be physical.

The cave wound into the mountain. He had not realized that it would be so deep. He discovered that he did not really like such confinement; he knew that the rock above was unlikely to collapse right at this moment, after being firm for perhaps thousands of years, but somehow he feared it might. He hoped to get the job done and go back out as soon as possible.

Something scuttled ahead. The light moved to illuminate it. It was a roach—half again as long as his foot. Darius was disgusted, and actually a bit afraid of it. It wasn’t that he thought it could hurt him, but that he didn’t want it to touch him. How could he get rid of it without contact?

“Can you make an image of a roach-eating creature?” he asked Nona.

“I can—but I don’t think they use eyes as we do,” she said. “It might not work.”

Nevertheless, a bird appeared, peering around as if searching out bugs. The bird hopped toward the roach, and its feet made a scotching noise as they touched the floor.

The roach spun about and scooted away.

Maybe it heard better than it saw, Darius thought. But he hadn’t realized that her illusions covered sound as well as sight. Queen Glomerula’s picture of Colene and Knave Naylor had been soundless.

“Oh, yes,” Nona said. “Sight, sound, and smell. But touch is harder to do, and it is more versatile when direct, instead of through a familiar.”

That helped explain it. The queen had had to use a spider or insect as a familiar.

They went on. The passage broadened into a larger cavern, with stalactites directly over their path. Darius didn’t like that either; they were too massive, too pointed, too close. Surely they would not fall—yet if one did, it would be devastating. They cast gross moving shadows across the cavern and each other.

The two of them came to the end of the chamber, and that was it: the end. There was no way out except the way they had entered.

The lamp brightened, illuminating the whole chamber. The floor was a mass of rubble and dirt and animal droppings. If the nether portion of the cavern had expanded as much as the upper section, the rubbish was several feet deep. How were they to find anything useful in that, without disturbing it and spoiling the giant’s archaeology?

“Look,” Nona said, pointing. “A psaltry!”

“A what?” But her meaning was coming through; he must have pulled the name out of a forgotten recess of his mind. A primitive type of harp.

Only this was no kind of harp he recognized. The thing was a tall thin wooden triangle, with a circular opening near the base and three rows of pegs below that.

“But it is broken,” she said sadly, picking it up. “See, the strings are gone, and most of the pegs along the top, and there is no bow.”

“Bow?” But again her meaning was registering: this was an instrument played with a bow across the strings, though it was unlike any he had seen before.

“Where there is one, there may be another,” she said. “But buried, out of sight. It may be broken too, but perhaps I can fix it. If only I can find it.”

“Could you get a familiar to search it out?” he asked. “I mean, a small creature, a little mite, something that can go down between the rocks, through the crevices—”

“A gnat!” she said. “There are some in here.” She stooped, feeling through the air with her hands. “Help me, Seqiro,” she murmured.

Then she had it: she had located and tamed a gnat, just as she had the bat on Oria. “Go down through the crevices,” she told the gnat. “Show me what you see.”

There was a noise, but not of any gnat. Darius stared back toward the entrance tunnel. A pair of eyes were staring back at him. “Trouble, I think,” he muttered.

A rat. Seqiro thought. I can sense it, but can not enter its mind to control it. That is a vicious creature.

“A weapon,” Darius said. “I need a weapon.”

Nona picked up a chip of rock. In her hands it became a great broadsword with a shiny steel blade. She gave it to him. Then she made a long spear with a trident tip for herself. “I have no flair for combat,” she said. “But maybe I can at least hold it at bay from me,”

“Combat isn’t my specialty either,” he admitted. He had carried a sword, but lost it when the despots made them change to green tunics. He had not had any skill with its use; it was merely better than bare hands against animals.

He stepped toward the rat. He saw now that the thing was close to the size of a horse, but short-legged so that it could fit through the small tunnel. It must have come in from an offshoot along the way, smelling them. “Back! Back!” he cried. “Away, vermin!”

The rat moved to the side. It evinced no fear, only caution. It wasn’t sure about them, and had no intention of leaving until it knew whether they represented prey.

They had to get rid of it. Darius stepped toward it—and his ankle turned on a loose stone, making him stumble.

Instantly the rat charged. Darius lunged with the sword, stabbing it in the shoulder, but its tough hide snagged the blade and wrenched the sword out of Darius’ hand. The rat crashed into him, biting at his face, and he fell on his back, helpless.

The rat pinned him to the floor and bit at his left shoulder. He felt the sharp front teeth sink in, slicing through tunic and flesh, but there was no pain.

“Back! Back!” Nona cried, poking at the rat’s snout with her trident. The beast made a sound that might have been a squeak had it been small, but was a hissing snarl now. Its head whipped around, and it caught the shaft of the spear between its teeth. The thing was hauled from Nona’s hands, and she fell back, terrified.

“Dagger!” Darius cried, still pinned.

One appeared in Nona’s hand, then floated across to his right hand, which was closest to her. He clutched it so that it pointed up, moved his hand down under the beast’s throat, and stabbed up. He seemed to score only on loose folds of skin, which moved aside without being penetrated. So he moved farther down, trying for the belly as the rat tried again for his face. The mouth opened, and its hot breath came down on his face as his hand rammed up with all the force he could muster.

This time he scored. The blade dug into the soft, tight underbelly of the rodent. Darius hauled it forward, sawing open a gash. He felt blood pouring out, soaking his tunic, but that was good, because it was the rat’s.

The rat’s head paused. Then the thing scrambled off and away. The dagger was hauled away with it, embedded. He might not have hurt the creature seriously, but he had given it something to think about, and it probably wouldn’t return in a hurry.

Now his left shoulder started hurting. His mind had cut off the pain before, but it could do so no longer. He was gravely injured. He struggled to get to his feet, but the pain overwhelmed him.

“Darius!” It was Nona, trying to help him up.

“It’s no use,” he gasped. “My shoulder—any motion—the pain—”

“I can help,” she said. “Let me touch the wound.” She kneeled beside him and slid her left hand into his torn tunic, around to his shoulder.

To his amazement, the pain faded. “You have anesthetic magic!” he gasped.

“Yes.” She kept her hand on him, but changed her position, sitting down, leaning back against the cave wall, her legs extended beside him. “Let me get you closer.” She tried to haul him up with her free hand, but couldn’t.

Darius took advantage of the cessation of pain to sit up. Then she put her right arm around him from behind and hauled him back down against her. His head landed on her soft bosom. He tried to protest, but she held him close, reaching farther around him with her right arm until her right hand joined her left inside his tunic. She had him pinned to her, but it was a far different sensation than that of the rat pinning.

Then he realized that not only was the pain abating, so was the injury. He could feel the torn tendons and flesh knitting themselves together, the blood clearing. She wasn’t just making him comfortable, she was healing him!

“Yes,” she murmured in his ear. “But it works best when I am closest. Please don’t move.”

He started to turn his head, but that only put his cheek against her breast. He decided to follow orders and remain quite still. It wasn’t as if there was anything unpleasant about this position. He was suffering the most delicious type of captivity imaginable. But if Colene caught him like this—

I’ll settle with you later, Colene’s thought came.

Oh, that mind communication! Sometimes it was downright inconvenient.

Yes, Colene’s thought came. But there was laughter in it. She understood the situation. Thank God I got her to put on a halter.

Darius thought about that—and decided not to think about it. So he thought about Colene instead.

Good.

Which was one of the things about Colene: she really wasn’t the jealous type. She got upset when she saw him with other women—there had been one very awkward scene with a cat-woman called Pussy—but that was because she felt he should be paying such attention to Colene herself. He frustrated her by refusing to take advantage of her in her youth. So Colene had reason for her reactions. She did not react from misunderstandings. She would torment him about this present situation, but never lose sight of the reality.

Oh, yeah?

He hoped.

The bosom moved. Nona was laughing now. She had been picking this up too. Damn that horse!

You can not expect an animal to appreciate the nuances of the human condition.

And that was Seqiro himself—who could indeed appreciate such nuances, when in contact with human minds.

“Have your fun, beast,” Darius muttered.

In a surprisingly brief time his shoulder was entirely healed. He flexed his arm and could find no pain, no problem. Now Nona let him get up; she was done with him.

“How can I thank you?” he asked her sincerely.

“You gained your injury defending me from the monster,” she pointed out. “It was only right that I help you recover.”

She had a point. “Let’s just say that I am impressed,” he said.

You sure are!

“And I do thank you,” he continued doggedly.

Nona nodded, just as if nothing else were going on. “You are welcome.”

He glanced down at himself. The blood was caking on his tunic, and it remained torn where the rat had bitten him. In fact the blood had soaked through to his new undershorts. What a mess!

“Change it,” she suggested. In her hand appeared a new tunic, generated from a thread of the old. Then, after a pause, a new pair of shorts too. Colene had taught her well.

He did not hesitate. He pulled off his soiled items and used their clean portions to wipe off the blood that remained on him, with the help of some water Nona conjured. Then he pulled on the new clothing. After what she had done for his body, she could see any part of it she wanted to. It wasn’t the first time.

Yeah, but I was there, before.

“You are still here,” he murmured in response.

Then they resumed their search for the instrument. The gnat had been buzzing through the crevices all this while, and Nona had been receiving its reports. Suddenly she jumped. “That’s it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

They used the shaft of the trident to pry the covering rubble up, carefully, and set it aside. In a moment the surface of a container showed. The thing was sealed in its own case! That was a break they hardly deserved.

Darius lifted out the box, and Nona immediately made a similar box of the same size and shape and set it in the hole. Then they replaced the covering rocks. The site had been restored, except for the one borrowed article.

Nona opened the case. There lay a trapezoidal object with a number of strings stretched from pegs on either side across two central bridges. Beneath the strings were two holes decorated by rose patterns.

Darius stared. He had seen something like this before. But where? He had no idea what it was.

“At the cliffs by the sea,” Nona said. “The instruments of the Megaplayers.”

That was it! Those huge stone devices—one was just like this, only this one was of a size to be handled by a person of Nona’s stature. It was ironic that the huge instrument was there on small Oria, while the small one was here on huge Jupiter. Each in the wrong world.

“It is a dulcimer,” Nona said, admiring it. “A hammered dulcimer, and here are the hammers. Its magic has protected it all these years, and I will be able to play it once I tune it. This is a beautiful instrument, better than mine.”

“A beautiful instrument,” he echoed. It was indeed that, physically; it glistened as if made yesterday.

She closed the case. Then Darius led the way out of the cavern, alert for any appearance of the rat, while Nona carried the precious dulcimer.

They emerged to bright daylight; their eyes had become accustomed to the lesser light of her illusion lamp, which she had managed to maintain throughout. Colene was there, as he blinked, adjusting. “What’s this about you in the arms of another woman?” she demanded. But she couldn’t hold the pose; she hugged him. “I’m glad you’re not torn up, you rascal.”

Darius decided not to say anything.

Angus flew them back to his home. This time Nona rode too, carrying the ancient instrument.

At the house Nona got to work on the dulcimer, adjusting the strings, making sure everything was sound. Darius learned that the others had become better acquainted during their wait outside the cave. Angus was interested in their world of origin, and especially interested in Colene’s statement that all the members of their little party came from different variants of that same world. He had not believed in other realities, but was becoming convinced as Seqiro showed him mental pictures of the Virtual Mode. “I had thought our universe was vast and varied,” he said. “I may have underestimated the case.”

“The Virtual Mode has been an amazement to all of us,” Darius said. “Every layer of it is another reality, each complete in itself, just as this one is. But they may have different fundamental laws as well as different customs. Colene and I are still working out our differences, which are mostly cultural.”

“Even when there is a common culture, in all the universe, it can be difficult,” Angus said. “I have studied the legends of our people, trying to align them with the evidence I find in the ground, and they do offer insights.”

Nona looked up. “It is ready,” she said. She had set the dulcimer up on a stand she had made, so that she could sit and play it conveniently. It tilted up and back, the broad side at the base, the narrow side away from her. “But I do not know whether I can do the type of magic you suggest. I have never—”

“You have never played on a magic instrument,” Angus said.

“Yes. Only common ones are allowed for theows.”

“Play it, then, little woman,” Angus said. “The magic will manifest—or it will not. Then we shall know.”

Nona took her two delicate hammers, which looked like oversized needles, being no more than delicate little pieces of wood and felt with needle-eye circles on the ends, and she addressed the dulcimer. She touched the strings, and the music began.

Darius had heard and enjoyed music many times, and was familiar with the sound of many instruments. But he was surprised by the finesse with which Nona played. Her little hammers touched the strings so rapidly that it seemed she was striking randomly, but the tune indicated otherwise. This was a divine melody. It was so delicate it seemed faint, yet it also seemed to fill the universe. It touched his heart and shook the mighty planet with the same refrain.

As he listened, Darius was satisfied that whatever it was that Nona had to do, he was bound to support it. Her mission was right and necessary. The rest of his life did not matter.

The piece was all too brief. When it ended, he could remember none of the melody or harmony. He knew only that their decision to help this woman had been correct.

It was Angus who spoke. “It is true,” he said. “You are the one. You have the magic of conversion, and I will help you in whatever way I can, until you have accomplished your purpose.”

We all will. Seqiro thought, interpreting the sentiment of the others.

Darius realized that it had been only to enlist the active help of the giant that Nona had played the dulcimer. But the magic had touched them all. They were all committed to her mission.

“Thank you,” Nona said. “But I know so little—only that I must enlist the help of the Megaplayers.”

“By that you mean those who left the large instruments on your world,” Angus said. “I can tell you a good deal about that. But perhaps it will be easier to understand if first I tell you one of our leading myths, which I think is not current on your own world.”

“A myth?” Nona asked. “What I want is to bring the anima. How can a myth relate to that?”

“It does relate,” the giant assured her. “It concerns the bringing of the animus to Jupiter by a peon named Earle. I believe it will provide insight into a task whose nature you may not as yet perfectly understand.”

She considered that. She nodded. “It is true that there is no such myth among my people. We don’t even have peons; we have theows. If you believe it will help—”

“I believe it will. Then we shall discuss it, and perhaps come to understand how to accomplish your purpose. Make yourselves comfortable, for the telling will take an hour.”

Nona made pillows for them all, and they settled down to listen to the Myth of Earle.