Norton held up his last sign: THE WORLD is GOING BACK -- WARD, hoping to forestall a jealous-husband reaction. The woman tried to pull herself together again, and again suc -- ceeded only in further displaying her private flesh. ",drawkcab gnivil er'eW" she said.

"?eh si Ueh eht ohW" the man demanded, glaring at Norton.
",snomed morfgnidih s'eH" she explained.
" -- lleW" he began, then paused. "?drawkcaB"
",drawkcaB" she agreed firmly.
"!top eht ffo tog tsuj I tuB" he said, annoyed.
The woman looked at her unconsumed repast. "?did uoY" she asked, making a connection. " --

snaem taht nehT"
"!taht toN" he exclaimed. "!t'nseod ti ,on ,h0"
239

Norton had by this time figured out what "top" trans -- lated to. He repressed a smile, remembering the dog in the alley.
"!ereh fo tuo gnitteg m'l" the man cried, charging back -- ward out of the kitchen. But his reflexes, like those of the woman, betrayed him. Their dialogue had evidently been in sensible order for them, but their actions remained reversed. And though their individual phrases or sen -- tences were backward, their separate verbal exchanges seemed to be more in the order of present consciousness. Norton's presence altered their reality to a degree, but not enough to reverse them totally or to provide them true self-determination. The man, despite his horror, was backing toward what looked to be the bathroom.
Well, Norton thought, this was a necessary conse -- quence of reverse biology. What was ejected from the body in the form of coffee, cake, or whatever had to be taken in in some other fashion. The biology of men and animals did not differ that much.
"!oN !oN" the man screamed from the hidden room. There was the sound of a toilet flushing backward. A pause, then a scream of sheer horror and outrage. It seemed the job had been done -- or undone, as the case might be.
Norton decided to vacate the premises before the man returned to the kitchen, as he might be in an ugly mood after taking on that ugly load. Norton cracked the door open and peeked.
The demons were gone. He had slipped their net. He slid out, leaving the family to its adjustments. The last thing he saw as he glanced back inside was the woman's face as she looked toward the bathroom. She wore a somewhat smug expression, as if she thought the man had gotten what he deserved.
Norton made his way across the street, then walked carefully backward to a small park. There he selected an isolated bench and sat on it. That way, he seemed no different from the normal people and did not attract unwelcome attention.
Perhaps an hour had passed; it was now, according to
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the park clock, just after 10 A.M. Norton watched the clock click back to the hour and heard it bong ten times. Even the bongs were in reverse: !GNOB ,GNOB He saw the squirrels leaping backward from branch to branch and assembling nuts from scattered shells and regurgitated interiors. Periodically a person would back past, attract -- ing the whole peanuts to his swinging hand and depositing them in a bag.
A young couple backed past Norton and into the bushes behind his bench. They were not aware of him, intent on their liaison. But they became conscious of the reversal, and this seemed to affect their lovemaking. Norton lis -- tened unashamedly, trying to visualize what was happen -- ing. To experience the gratification first, followed by the buildup -- that might be unsettling. Sure enough, after a while the couple backed away from the bushes with per -- plexed expressions.
The sun moved slowly eastward. Morning was arriv -- ing. Rush-hour traffic developed on the street, the cars and carpets crowding crazily backward at a hazardous velocity. People hurried back past the park without notic -- ing it, paying no attention to Norton. He was just a char -- acter on a bench, not rating either a backward or a forward
glance.
But he became aware of another problem. The progress of time was not perfect. At first he thought it was his own boredom stretching things out, but when he checked his watch, which measured his personal time, against the park clock, he discovered that the clock was taking a minute and a half to back up one minute. What was wrong?
The question prompted the answer: the magic was weakening. The Hourglass was powerful but not omni -- potent, and the reversal of the whole world was a con -- siderable chore. After two hours, the Hourglass was losing its edge, processing the enormous magic less efficiently.
He concentrated, willing the magic back to full potency. This was effective; the normal pace of time resumed. But now he had to keep his mind on it, because, when his attention slipped, so did time. He could not simply wait
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for the key moment to arrive; he had to will its arrival. Fortunately, this was not difficult; it was like holding on to a suitcase. It did require effort, but the effort became automatic.
The clock bonged past nine and started toward eight -- thirty. Then it bonged nine again. Norton jumped up, alarmed. He had started nodding, and time had not only slowed, it had resumed forward progress. That was no good! He concentrated again, and the clock bonged nine a third time and proceeded safely on backward.
Norton paced around the park, afraid to sit down again, lest he lose concentration. He had several hours to go and he meant to see it through.
He started into an intersection of paths near a backward -- spouting fountain -- and saw a demon on the intersecting path. The creature was approaching backward, so didn't see Norton; that was the second time he had been in luck this way. He was walking forward when others were not near to see, pausing when they were. But if he paused here, the demon would come back far enough to spy him, and that could not be allowed. Norton retreated hastily the way he had come. He hid behind a tree and watched the demon pass. Surely the thing was looking for him;
Satan did not send his minions out in public without good reason, for people tended to react negatively to demons. It wasn't that Satan cared how human beings felt, but he did not like them getting jolted back to righteous living that would cost him souls. So he kept his operators covert, except for his continual ad campaign to convince people that Hell was in fact a fun place. No one with any sense believed that -- but there were a lot of stupid people in the world. Satan also maintained discreet recruitment sta -- tions, but no demons were ever in evidence there; it was strictly soft sell.
But all this walking and skulking about was making Norton tired. He wanted to rest his feet -- but didn't dare. Then his eyes fell on his ring. "Sning!" he said happily. "Will you warn me if I start to lose concentration?"
Squeeze.
T
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Gratefully he sank onto a bench. Oh, that relaxation felt good to his legs!
Fifteen minutes later, Sning gave him a good, hard double squeeze. He snapped alert. "Thanks, Sning," he said. "I needed that. Stay on the job."
In this manner he endured till 8 A.M. Then he got up and walked some more. He had to make it to just after five in the morning; he was halfway there.
He spied another demon and avoided it. They were really cruising the area! Fortunately, they were handi -- capped by having to proceed backward. But they would probably be thickest at the time and place of the capsule nullification; how would he get there without being caught by them?
It was getting harder to keep time on track. He had to concentrate more intently, making up for the slowly fading power of the Hourglass. He felt as if he were running a marathon; the miles were passing, but his strength was depleting. Would he be able to make it to the end? He had to! But it was not going to be easy. He had not prac -- ticed willing before; he had no muscles for the purpose and wasn't sure even how to tell the nature of fatigue of the will.
He went to the public facility for a routine call of nature. His own biology was forward, but the other men were retreating from the urinals with distinctly uncomfortable expressions. They had no real choice about using the facilities, but he couldn't blame them for not liking what happened there. Normal processes did not seem aesthetic when reversed. There was probably some philosophy to be gleaned from that realization, but right now he was too busy keeping time moving to cogitate on that. He used the facilities, hoping no one would notice that he was not reversed, then backed away, adopting the appro -- priate disgruntled expression.
Sning squeezed his finger more frequently, but he made it to 7 A.M. without significant incident. Two more hours!
Now doubt was seeping in, clogging the channels of his concentration. Could he make it to 5 A.M.? His effort
of will was not the same as a physical effort, yet he felt himself tiring. The Hourglass continued to fade, so that he had to fill in with more will, and his will was becoming exhausted. The park clock began wavering again, and the people and vehicles performed a strange kind of dance, moving backward and forward and backward again as the flow of time fluxed. Sning's squeezes were almost con -- tinuous, and these, too, were losing effect. Norton was sweating, though he was standing still. This was awful!
"Sir, may I pleh uoy?"
Norton looked dully at the speaker. It was an attractive young woman who leaned toward him and away from him as time wavered. "No, I -- " he began, then felt a surge of dizziness.
She caught his arm, steadying him. "?era you ilL" she asked solicitously. "Here, tis nwod. m'l a nurse."
Her speech was phasing backward and forward, too, as time changed. He had to get it back on track! He put forth a special effort, and the normal backflow resumed.
"?ytilaer degnahc siht ti sl" she inquired, ".sselmrah s'ti tub ,ot tsujda ot drah s'ti wonk I"
Norton was getting better at comprehending backward speech, though this was far from perfect. The woman had caught on to the fact of the backward flow of time and was trying to reassure him. She assumed that it was the shock of reversal that was making him ill. Well, in a way it was.
"Thank you," he said.
She glanced at him, startled. "?aisahpA" she inquired.
Oops -- he had dazzled her with his own backward speech. She thought it was aphasia. Well, again it was close enough. "Yes," he said.
"!suoires si sihT !nam roop uoY" she exclaimed.
Norton scraped a section clear in the dirt beside the bench and leaned down to scratch a message with his forefinger. IT'S ONLY VERBAL, he wrote.
She rummaged in her purse for some paper and a pen. CAN YOU READ THIS? she wrote.
He nodded yes.

244
",thgir lla er'uoy sseug I nehT" she said. She stood, ready to depart.
Then Norton spied another demon. The creature was walking rapidly backward; no chance to

avoid it.
Norton put his face in his hands, hoping he would not be recognized.
"!kcis er'uoy, hO" the girl exclaimed, bending to assist him. She had a nice figure, and

her body helped conceal him from the gaze of the demon. But time wavered again as he lost concentration. He corrected that, and the demon retreated on past.
",uoy evael dluohs I kniht t'nod I" the woman said.
The truth was that he appreciated her help, misguided as it was. He borrowed her pencil and paper. WHAT'S
YOUR NAME?
".agleH ?eman yM"
"Agleh," he repeated carefully, and she smiled. He was conquering his verbal aphasia!
Agleh took him to her apartment at the edge of the park and made him comfortable on her couch, from where he could see her wall clock. She was perplexed by his being so intent on the clock when he had a watch of his own, but she humored him. She was, it developed, a single girl, working at a local hospital, and this was her day off. She had a tender heart and could not refrain from helping people who were in trouble. He told her his name, Notron, and explained that he wasn't really sick, but was pursued by demons. She looked at him with increased sympathy and didn't argue. He wasn't sure that was a good sign, but let it go.
She offered him breakfast at quarter to seven. Norton tried to demur, but S^insisted, certain that food would be good for him. But she had for the moment forgotten the new reality of eating.
She brought dirty dishes from the sink and set them on the table, then sat down and delicately disgorged a poached egg and a glass of milk.
Norton did not eat. He could not, for she had given him nothing. Why should she? She had adjusted nicely

245
to living backward and was replaying in reverse her mom -- ing meal; she expected him to do likewise.

Norton sighed. He had not intended to deceive her about this matter or his nature. Words were unlikely to persuade her, so action would have to do.
He took her pristine egg and milk before she could prepare them and return them to her refrigerator, and he consumed them both. They were very good, for he was indeed hungry.
Agleh stared. Then she laughed. "!drawkcab er'uoY" she exclaimed.
"I'm backward," he agreed.
"? -- woH"
He wrote it on her pad. i AM CHRONOS, THE INCAR -- NATION OF TIME. MY LIFE PROCEEDS BACKWARD.
She looked again at the empty dishes, and again at him. She shrugged. " -- siht tub ,yad ym ni cigam nees d'l thguoht I" she exclaimed. "!esle gnihtemos er'uoY"
"Sey," he agreed, again speaking carefully to get it right. He brought out the Hourglass, with its white sand flowing upward, and showed her how the instrument fol -- lowed him when he set it down in mid-air.
"?taht ees I yaM" she asked.
He handed her the Hourglass -- but when she tried to take it, she could not. Her hand passed right through it. To her, it was a ghost-object.
That surprised him as much as it did her. He remem -- bered how the Bern had grabbed it in the globular cluster. Had it been in a different state then?
Agleh looked at the empty dishes. He knew what she was thinking: where had that food come from? She had uneaten it and he had eaten it; when time went forward again, it would be the other way around. When and how was that meal ever prepared?
She glanced again at the shining Hourglass. "...xodaraP"
i AM IMMUNE FROM PARADOX, he reassured her in writ -- ing. Then, in the course of the next half hour, he clarified his nature for her, including the manner in which his pres -

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ence changed reality. She was not reversing her life pre -- cisely now, for he had not been with her on her forward living through the morning. Now she was living backward, but
interacting with him. She could remember her recent future -- since meeting him. "!thgir s'tahT" she exclaimed. "!rebmemer od I"
He explained how he was trying to balk Satan's ploy, but had run low on willpower to keep
the reversal going. Now, thanks to her support, he was doing better; time wasn't wavering. I'M IN YOUR REALITY, she wrote, getting it straight. Actually, she put a new sheet of
paper on the pad, with the words already there, then went over them from right to left with her
pencil, and they disappeared as she did so. When the sheet was blank, she brought another to set
over it, with new words. At first she had been startled, watching herself do this, but now she
accepted it as a matter of course. Norton realized that his way of writing must appear similarly
strange to her.
However, the novelty of this situation carried Norton only so far. The power of the
Hourglass was still fading, and it required horrendous mental effort for him to keep time flowing
backward. At six-fifteen time wavered again.
Fortunately, Agleh now understood. " !nataS thgif tsum uoY" she said. ".uoy pleh lliw I"
Her backward expres -- sions were organized only by phrase or sentence; beyond that, his time
frame took over. Probably, he realized, the rest of the world was speaking completely backward;
near him, the effect was distorted by his own counterlife. That could also account for the way
people seemed to become aware of their situation in his presence; elsewhere they might not know
that there had been any change at all. He was sure that his presence would have generated many
minor paradoxes, like eddy currents in the contrasting time flows, if he had not been immune. But he did not see how Agleh could help him, generous as her offer was. He tried to
explain the problem: his will had to brace the Hourglass, and his will was giving out. Her brow furrowed in concentration as he collapsed

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the Hourglass and put it away. ",emiT" she said. ".emit era yllaer uoY" CHRONOS, he wrote again. IT is AN OFFICE.
She glanced at him sidelong. "?nam lamron a era uoy nehT"
"Sey," he agreed wryly.
".drawkcab gnivil tuB"
"Sey."
She wrote again: BUT OUR WILLS ARE THE SAME.
He shrugged, not seeing the relevance.
LET MY WILL SUPPORT YOURS, she wrote.
Norton's mouth fell open. Was that possible?
They tried it. Norton relaxed his will, and when time wavered, Agleh concentrated on the

objective. It worked -- but her will was only a fraction as effective as his. She could buttress him, but could not carry the load alone. Still, that was a great help; it extended the period he could operate.

She touched him, putting her hand on his arm, but proximity did not seem to make a difference to the Hour -- glass. She was doing all she could, simply by sharing his will.
But now they were standing close together. Agleh ran her tongue over her lip. "?ekil eb dluow ti tahw rednow I"
Norton frowned. "What what would be like? Satan's victory?"
A slight flush crossed her face. " -- wonk uoy -- namow a -- nam A"
Norton figured it out. A woman -- a man. Now it was his turn to blush. One moving in one direction in time;
the other, the other. Was it possible?
",rednow I" she repeated, licking her lips again.
She was a pretty woman, and though he had known her only briefly, he liked her and sincerely appreciated her help. He wondered, too -- what would sex be like in such conditions?
But then time wavered badly, the sand shifting back and forth in the Hourglass. Agleh's support had tided him through almost an hour, but this thought was distracting!

248

",emit rehto emoS" Agleh said. She was as quick as he to realize that if her will could support his, it could also detract from his.
"Some other time," Norton agreed ruefully. He found himself disappointed, but the flow of time did firm again. He benefited from her support -- to a degree.
She backed away from him. Then she shrugged and came back. He half-spread his arms, concentrating on the Hourglass so that time would not waver. She came into them with a kind of half-turning motion, as if being reeled in, and slowly brought her face up to meet his. Gradually they kissed, and it was like any other kiss: pleasant but not strange. They were in phase for this.
Time wavered. He concentrated to return the flow. Then he lifted his head and looked at her face for a moment before releasing her. She opened her eyes and stepped away from him.
They had kissed, and it had been backward for at least one of them -- and yet the same.
"?effl ruoy ni nemow rehto neeb evah erehT" she asked.
"Other women," he agreed. "But the one I loved -- died."
",deiD" she repeated.
"I think she was -- like you."
".uoy knahT"
"I -- " he began, but hesitated. Then he used the paper to explain, though it took a while: that he not only lived backward but didn't even belong in this period of time;
that his normal existence was eight years in her future;
that in due course he would return to this present time but would have to hurdle it, so as not to reduplicate him -- self. Thus this meeting of theirs was all there was or could be. If he encountered her in his normal progress, they would be traveling in opposite directions. There was, lit -- erally, no future for them.
But, she inquired alertly, what of his prior life, before he assumed the office of Chronos?
Norton did a quick reassessment. Eight years ago, in his original life, he had been thirty, in one of the duller
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periods of employment. He had finally given up the mun -- dane existence entirely, to hike the parks and tell stories for his supper. But suppose he had met a woman such as this? Would he then not have met Orlene?
And not have caused Orlene's death?
"Here is my address of that time," he said abruptly, writing it out on the paper. If such an encounter turned out to be paradoxical, then it simply wouldn't occur; he didn't have to worry about that. "But I'm younger then, and know nothing of my future as Chronos. Maybe it would be better not to tell me."
",dnatsrednu I" she agreed.
It was at that point he became fully aware of the futility of trying to have any continuing relationship with a normal woman. He had run up against this with Orlene, but that had been a special case. Now he realized it was not a special case; backward existence prevented any close relationship with any normal person. This was the penalty he paid for his office. Clotho had known, and had pro -- vided him with an alternate fulfillment. Clotho understood the problem of the Incarnations, who were human yet unhuman, himself most of all. As another Incarnation, Clotho could handle it. But Agleh -
",rettel a uoy etirw ll'I" she said.
"A letter, yes," he agreed, surprised.
"?ti dnes I dluohs erehW"
"Where?" Norton pondered. "To Chronos, I suppose, in care of Purgatory." Did the mail service deliver mail to Purgatory? It seemed to him that Thanatos had men -- tioned that it did, in the course of their last conversation. He wrote the address out for her: CHRONOS, c/o PURGA -- TORY. "But I can't be sure the letter will reach me or that I'll be able to answer. And if it does reach me, I don't know when." Perhaps two years before she wrote it? Reverse time had its pitfalls.
Now it was close to six in the morning. He had come within striking time of his mission. Soon after 5 A.M...
A.M. -- how significant each marker of that had become! A. for Ante, M. for Meridian -- before the meridian of

250 Bearing Aw Hourglass
noon. A convenient contraction. It had never seemed very important to him before. But it was time for him to orient on the conclusion of his mission. He had avoided the

questing demons -- yet how could he reach the right capsule at the key moment without alerting them? They would be clustering close, and though, as an Incarnation, he was theoretically immune to molestation by Hell's minions, he wasn't sure they couldn't balk him on this. After all, he was the one trying to change reality or to unchange it. The advantage prob -- ably lay with the present status quo. ",pleh ll'I" Agleh volunteered. Involve her with the minions of Satan? Norton didn't like that. NO. DANGEROUS, he wrote. WHAT IF SATAN WINS? she wrote back. She had him there. "Hell on Earth," he muttered. ",htraE no lleH" she repeated. And, on paper: CAN

YOU DO IT ALONE?
Norton considered. Probably he would have to wait till the last moment, then charge in and hope that nothing balked him. It was a one-chance effort. What were his chances for success? Fiftyfifty? With the fate of the world at issue, he did not like that. But how could he improve the odds?
YOU CAN'T, she wrote.
He sighed. She was probably right. But he wasn't sure how she could help. He certainly didn't want her getting involved with demons; she was too nice a girl. "I'll just have to try it by myself," he told her firmly.
She started to protest, but he was firm. The memory of Orlene and her fate bothered him, and he was deter -- mined not to be responsible for any more mischief to a mortal.
Agleh relented reluctantly. She wrote: COME BACK IF -
"I will," Norton promised, hoping he wouldn't have to return here. He squeezed her hand and left.
He was getting better at walking backward, though his leg muscles protested. Much could be done with periph -- eral vision and careful attention to sound. By walking
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ahead of another person, he could be reasonably certain there were no obstacles in the immediate vicinity, because in forward time he would have been following that person, and the other naturally avoided problems of terrain. In any event, he was now familiar with .this region, and that helped.
His plan was to get as close to the key room as he could without being observed and hide until the proper moment. He would catch the demon just after it changed the capsule -- which would be just before in normal time -- and douse it with the holy water before it retreated back to its association with his prior self. Of course, that would not prevent it from rejoining him, but that was not the point; this would prevent it from messing with the capsule. If he timed his action precisely, the watching demons from this present time might not be able to balk him.
He backed to the shelter of a tree and paused there as if resting. A bird-dropping jumped up from before him to rejoin its origin; good thing he hadn't been standing there! The other pedestrians continued on by, retreating toward their homes without paying him any attention. It was early morning now; the sun was no longer beaming down. When he believed no one was watching, Norton backed slant -- wise across the lawn to another tree, and thence to a side gate into the Senator's estate. Now he was in a walled -- in garden, a pleasant place. A child was there, just unpick -- ing a flower; the stem became whole as she placed the severed ends together.
What was she doing here at this hour? The flower wasn't even open yet; it was waiting for a direct ray of sun.
",olleh ,h0" she said, becoming aware of Norton.
"Olleh," he replied, then essayed a question. "Ereh evil uoy od?"
She glanced at him, her brow quirking at his odd pro -- nunciation and emphasis, ".rotisiv a fo rueffuahc eht fo rethguad eht m'l .oN"
Norton found this too much to assimilate, so he just smiled. He wanted to get away from her and into the
252
house. "Gnol os," he said, beginning to back away non -- chalantly.
"!ynnufer'uoY" she said.
Norton proceeded through the garden, handicapped by its unfamiliarity. He stumbled against the footing for a potted tree. Well, now he was alone; he turned about and walked forward.
A man stepped out before him from an alcove in the estate wall. ".sonorhC"
Norton froze. This man recognized him! "Who -- ?"
The man only smiled. Then Norton saw his eyes. They were like glassy lenses, with dim red lights behind. Demon eyes!
He had been caught by a demon lurking in human form. Now, in the immediate vicinity of Chronos, the demon could interact somewhat on his terms. "SyortseD" it said and grabbed for Norton.
That was warning enough. Norton let his cloak spread out beyond his suit. The man-demon's hands aged and weakened as they came into contact with that cloak. Hast -- ily he hauled them back, cursing backward.
".olleH"
Both men turned. It was the little girl. She had followed Norton, perhaps curious about the odd man.
The demon leaped for her. The girl shrieked but was caught. "!lliK" the demon cried. He drew a wicked-looking knife and held it poised near the child's face while his other hand held her by the hair.
Norton knew he would not be able to disarm the demon before the girl was stabbed. She was a hostage -- and the demon would not hesitate to kill her. True demons were minor incarnations of evil, serving only the major Incar -- nation.
"What do you want?" Norton asked.
",ereh yats tsuJ" the demon said.
Stay here -- until it was too late -- or early -- to stop the other demon's change of the capsule. Or until the last power of the Hourglass gave out. Either way, Satan's victory. He could not tolerate that.

253
But if he acted, the child would die. He couldn't tol -- erate that either. Time wavered -- and that gave him a notion. He con -- centrated, or rather relaxed,

letting time flow forward.

The demon put away his knife and let the girl go, bounding back to Norton's vicinity. This time Norton grabbed the demon, his white cloak extended, and held him fast.
The demon screamed. "You're killing my body!" Indeed, the body was aging. The skin wrinkled; the clothing rotted and fell away. In moments the shriveled body collapsed. It had died of old age.
Norton dropped it. The girl was staring, horror-stricken. "You dried him up!" she cried.
"I had to. He was going to hurt you." "Say -- you don't talk funny any more!" Norton remembered. He concentrated, reversing time again. It was like picking up a monstrous load after inad -- equate respite.
"!erom yna ynnuf klat t'nod uoy -- yaS" the girl exclaimed.
Norton took her by the arm and led her away. He knew the demon, now separated from the ambience of Chronos, would not recover -- except that that execution would be undone by the resumed retreat of time. Avoidance was therefore best.
"!pu mill deird uoY" the girl cried, horrified.
Something nagged at Norton. It was the demon's last cry: "You're killing my body!" Of course that was literally true; a demon could not take physical form on Earth. Only in very special circumstances did that happen. The demons he had seen before were mere evil spirits, with no substance. This one had had substance -- because it had taken possession of a living being.
That meant the demons could act physically here. They could not hurt him, Norton -- but they could harm others. That made Norton vulnerable. They could take hostages.
This was too much for him to handle alone. He had dispatched one demon -- or at least sent it back to Hell by destroying its living host -- but he couldn't afford to chance that again. He had rescued the child, but there were too many other potential victims, and he knew that the minions of Satan would use them. He didn't worry about destroying the living hosts, for he knew that a demon could enter a human body only when invited, and that only the worst elements of society would ever do that inviting. But he couldn't stand to have the blood of one innocent victim on his conscience.
"Go home," he urged the girl. "Find your family and get far away from here. Fast. There is evil afoot."
Wordlessly, the child nodded. Then she ran, taking off backward so fast her hair flung out behind her head, in the direction of her flight.
Norton, reluctantly, returned to Agleh. "You were right," he admitted. "I can't handle it alone. Those demons are taking possession of human bodies and they are unscrupulous. But I'm still not at all certain you can help, and I don't want to risk -- "
She waved aside his incomprehensible explanation.
TELL ME THE DETAILS, she Wrote.
His eye fell on his ring. "Okay, Sning?" he asked. Squeeze.
"She can really help?" Squeeze.
Agleh pointed to the ring. "?cigaM" she asked. "Cigam," he agreed. And explained briefly about Sning. "?pleh I nac woh ,gninS" she asked the ring. Squeeze,squeeze, squeeze.
"He can't answer that sort of question," Norton explained. Then, on paper: YES-NO ANSWERS ONLY. ".yrroS .h0" She considered for a moment, then wrote:
CAN SNING HELP?
Squeeze. It seemed Sning could read.
Norton was startled. "Directly? Physical action?"
Squeeze.
Time was running short. Together they worked out a campaign. The problem, Sning explained when they found the correct questions, was that demons could emulate human beings by taking possession of human hosts. The minions of Satan could no longer be readily distinguished from innocent people. Norton and Agleh had to find a simple way to tell humans and demons apart, so that they could leave the former alone and eliminate or avoid the latter.
Sning's poison could make a human being very sick, but should have no effect on a true demon, since that was only a spirit. The spirit demons were patrolling the area, trying to spot Chronos, while the demon-possessed bodies were acting to block him physically. There was no telling how many of each there were, but probably enough to do the job. Satan would have sent in the largest number immediately after the capsule was changed, as that was the critical moment; the network six hours after the event had been relatively thin.
Norton had presumed that the possessed people were worshipers of Satan, doomed to Hell and not worth his sympathy. But now he wondered: could demons somehow borrow the bodies of good people too? Sning reassured him; they could not. Goodness was anathema to the crea -- tures of Hell. But his concern about the hostaging of inno -- cent people in the area was valid, Sning agreed. Only the Senator himself was free of that threat, as Satan would not harm the man whose life he was trying to save for worse things.
Norton couldn't tell the innocents from the possessed, at a distance, and he couldn't afford to get up close with -- out knowing. How could he identify the possessed ahead of time and get by them?
"The regular demons are really thickening," Norton remarked, glancing out the window. "There's one patrol -- ling the street now."
Agleh looked. "?erehW"
He pointed. "There."
She squinted, ".gnihtyna ees t'nod I"
The demon was quite plain. Sning squeezed three times. "You mean she can't see it?" Norton asked, startled.
Squeeze.
He turned to her. "There's a spirit demon there -- but you can't see it."
",ti ees t'nac I" she agreed.
"But there is one there. Sning can tell you."
She looked doubtful, so Sning uncurled and crossed to Agleh's waiting hand. Like Orlene, she was not afraid of small serpents.
"!etuc woh ,h0" she exclaimed.
Sning curled around one of her fingers. "Ask him a yes-no question," Norton said.
"?ereht nomed a ereht sl" she asked. Then she jumped. "!em dezeeuqs eH"
"How many times?"
",ecn0" she said, holding up one finger.
"That means yes. Sey."
".ees I ,h0" She was pleased. "!mih peek dluoc I hsiw
I"
Keep Sning? "Well, you might borrow him -- so you can spot the demons. I can see them without Sning's help." That seemed to be another power conferred on him by the mantle of Chronos.
",seY" she agreed.
Now it jelled. Agleh and Sning would scout the Sen -- ator's estate, locating all the demons and possessed peo -- ple. The minions of Satan would not suspect them, because Agleh was obviously a normal person, not an Incarnation. She would report to Norton, who would then move in to the capsule at the critical time, avoiding the pre-spotted demons. Sning would warn Agleh of any threat to her. With luck, there would be no trouble, and the deed would be done before Satan knew it.
Then at last Norton would be able to relax. He could return to his own time -- and never see Agleh again. That he regretted; these few hours had brightened when she appeared.
He knew he shouldn't, but he asked her anyway, on the paper: DO YOU LIKE WILDERNESS?
She replied: I LOVE IT.
Why did he torment himself?
"tog s'teL" she said briskly, heading for the door.
Norton started to go with her, then stopped. He couldn't show his face near the Senator's estate until they had the demons posted. "I'll wait here," he said somewhat lamely.
",eyB" she agreed and backed out.
Norton watched at the window as she went out on the lighted street. The demon was still patrolling, but paid Agleh no attention. He relaxed slightly; it was working!
He watched Agleh out of sight, then paced restlessly. The woman had passed the demon, and that was good -- but now he wondered just how many of Satan's minions in whatever form mingled with the living human beings regularly. Did the Prince of Evil normally keep an eye on the affairs of the mundane world? How could any person ever be sure that evil was not just around the corner? It was a disquieting notion.
The clock on the wall wavered, and he refocused his concentration; he was tiring, or the Hourglass was, and now that he had nothing to rev him up, it was becoming more difficult to keep the reverse flow going. He seemed to have periods when it went automatically and periods when it required all his effort. But he felt his resources giving out; it was as if he had been driving all night or running all day. He had only an hour to go, but now it seemed like more than the time that had passed.
He continued to pace, fighting to maintain control, but the clock wavered more frequently. He no longer had Agleh's direct support of will; maybe that was making a difference. He was in danger of giving the victory to Satan by default.
Now he wondered: was it really worth the effort? Would it be all that bad if Satan won? It would be so easy just to let it slide, to let the normal flow of time resume. He realized his attitude was similar to that of a freezing man who just wanted to sleep -- a sleep that would never end -- but somehow he didn't care. He was so tired; his will was exhausted.
He relaxed, heedless of the changing of the clock. He sank into a chair, his eyes glazing. This apartment reminded him of Orlene's -- she who had loved her baby too well and died of it, because of the evil in the family genes of Gawain the Ghost. That evil, traveling down the lineage, taking its dreadful toll of each generation. Where had it originated? Where would it end?
Evil? It had, of course, originated with the Prince of Evil. It would end there, too. From Evil came evil, and to Evil it returned. Without the Demon of Evil, the D -- Evil, the Devil, it would not exist, for he was the Incar -- nation of it. From him and to him -
Something coalesced. The evil that had been respon -- sible for Orlene's death -- it had had to come from Satan!
Suddenly Norton was up and alert. Satan had cost him Orlene -- and he owed Satan for that. Now he had a chance to repay the Prince of Evil by foiling this present mischief.
The flow of time reversed again. The clock resumed its backward march. Norton knew he would make it through now. Hate would accomplish what duty could not.
At 5:25 A.M. Agleh returned. "!lla meht dettops evah eW" she exclaimed. And she grabbed pen and paper and sketched a map, showing both spirits and possessed by marking their locations with little S's and P's.
Just in time! "I've got to get into that building soon." Norton said, aware that she could not follow all his back -- ward words, but would pick up the sense of them. "I need to know every demon!"
"Jufrednow saw gninS" she said, perfecting the map.
Norton studied the pattern of S's and P's. "But if they're moving, they won't be in the same places," he said, con -- cerned.
She figured this out. ",staeb klaw yehT" she explained, sketching in light lines to mark territories, ".htrof dna kcaB"
"Oh." Walking beats -- yes, of course. So there would be fair continuity. All he had to do was time his passage. It was like a maze or a video game; if he maneuvered deftly enough, he should score.
He concentrated on the map, aligning the details with what he knew of the region, memorizing the pattern. It wasn't difficult; there were only six possessed and six spirits, and his fatigue of will was not fatigue of mind. Six and six -- of course. 666 was Satan's personal number. But where was the third six?
Well, he judged that he could make the run in about six minutes. Maybe he'd better plan on that. It might have the effect of completing Satan's number, so that there would be no infernal alarm. The period of backward time was also scheduled for six hours. One way or another, it matched.
Six minutes -- that would leave him no margin for error. Any significant delay would cost him the mission. But as he pondered it, he became more certain this was the key. Play it by Satan's rules -- and Satan's defeat would be complete.
He explained this to Agleh, writing out essential words to be sure she had it straight. ",uoy htiw og ll'I" she said.
"I don't think that's wise. You've been there, scouting it. If the demons see you again, so close to the zero hour, they'll be alerted."
",rebmemer t'now yehT" she pointed out.
"They won't remember," he repeated thoughtfully. But he wasn't sure of that. Most people seemed hardly aware of their backward progress, but the ones in his immediate vicinity were, and those ones had backward memory, as Agleh herself did. Also, these were not people, but Satan's demons and spirits, assigned to watch for him. If Agleh was seen with him now, the demons might manage to remember backward just enough to make trouble.
He pointed this out to her. Reluctantly, she agreed. Then she brightened. "!noisrevid a sa tea ll'I" she said.
A diversion. That could indeed make it easier for him -- but it would be risky for her.
"Itsisni I" she said.
He looked at his watch. Time was shortening; his final six minutes were almost upon him. He didn't have time to argue.
",pleh Uiw gninS" she said, holding up her hand with Siting.
He had forgotten to take the little serpent back! But it was true; Sning could be a big help to her, since the little snake could detect invisible spirits. Norton could recover his ring once the mission was done. "Okay," he said with some misgiving.
"!yak0" she echoed. She gave him another kiss some -- what less backward; she was getting used to these inter -- actions.
It was time. They moved out smartly. Agleh set out ahead to intercept the first possessed. Sning would signal her if she needed to distract the man; if not, she would simply proceed to the second, in effect running interfer -- ence. Norton followed more slowly, trying to look like a casual passer-by.
The problem was that they both had to walk backward, so he couldn't see what happened to Agleh. He just had to assume that his way would be open, thanks to her and Sning.
He entered the first possessed's beat and backed through it without challenge. This was on the main street, and normal people were occasionally passing -- early ris -- ers catching the local matter-mitter before the throng. He hoped he seemed like one of them. It was working -- so far.
Now he was entering the beat of a spirit. According to his estimate, the spirit should be at the far side of it, facing away, so wouldn't see him. Sure enough -- he spied the spirit's tail as the creature backed toward him. He schooled himself to make no overt reaction; that would be a giveaway, since ordinary people could not see such creatures. Of course the spirit would recognize him any -- way, if it turned and saw him -- but it was unlikely to turn, because of the regularity of its beat. Evil spirits, as he understood it, did not have much imagination or initiative. Only strange behavior on his part would cause them to break their routine -- such as reacting to the sight of one.
He reached the estate. Though there were twelve of Satan's minions on patrol, they were not all in one place; they were spread fairly thin through and about the estate, to cover all of it. They knew he would exploit any gap in their coverage. He had only three to worry about along this route, and now he had navigated two. The third was another spirit in the hall beyond the side entrance. He probably could not avoid that one -- but with only two minutes remaining till zerotime, maybe that one could not spread the alarm in time to do Satan much good. This was the chancy part!
He opened the door behind him and backed in. This was a servants' entrance, and there weren't many ser -- vants about at this early hour. Norton turned and pro -- ceeded forward; it was more comfortable, and he knew he would not fool the spirit anyway. He moved through the labyrinth of the servants' region, guessing where the spirit would be and avoiding that region.
He guessed wrong. The spirit appeared, did a double take, and fled through the wall. Norton was not reassured. Ninety seconds remained -- was it too much time? Could the spirit summon overwhelming counterforce before zero moment? Had he given Satan too much leeway?
He entered the pantry where the bottle of capsules was stored. No spirit guarded it now; he had spooked that one away. He looked at the bottle -
There were six homed, barbtailed feline creatures there. Hellcats -- that was the final complement of the 666!
The Hellcats spied him and snarled. They formed a semicircle near the shelf of the capsule, tails switching. Each had saber-toothed tusks and great blood red claws. They looked deadly.
But this was Earth, not Hell, Norton reminded himself. No true Hellcats existed here. These had to be spirit cats, powerless against any living person physically, and impo -- tent against Chronos in any way. They represented another lie from the Father of Lies, a bluff to confuse Chronos. All they could do was attempt to distract him -- and that would fail.
One minute. He was early after all, but he would pre -- vail.
Then he heard approaching noises. Was the original capsule demon arriving? Norton brought out his vial of holy water and stood ready. The demon would have to be given the chance to unhex the capsule; then Norton had to douse it.
Figures appeared. Norton stared, stunned. A pos -- sessed -- and Agleh. They had taken her hostage!
The possessed held the woman's right arm wrenched cruelly behind her, while his left hand clasped a gleaming knife menacing her face. "!seid ehS" he grunted eagerly.
Norton held the holy water. He could throw it at the pair of them; it would not hurt Agleh, but it would banish the evil spirit from the possessed man. One flick of his wrist -
"!ti od t'noD" Agleh cried, divining his intent.
Angrily the possessed brought the knife to her neck. She caught at his hand with her left hand, but she had neither his strength nor his leverage. "!seid ehS" he repeated.
Norton stared at those two hands -- his big hairy one, clasping the wicked knife; her delicate fair one with Sning on the middle finger. Now he understood the ploy; if he used the holy water to save Agleh, he would not have it to foil the capsule demon, and Satan would win. But if he did not save Agleh -
He heard something to his side. The six impotent Hell -- cats had vanished, and in their place was a coalescing cloud of smoke. In seconds it cleared, revealing a tiny solid demon with a single large horn. This was the capsule demon.
The possessed made an incoherent grunt and nudged the blade in to touch Agleh's throat. Norton couldn't let her die!
Then he had an inspiration. "Sning!" he cried.
Immediately the little snake uncoiled and struck at the adjacent hand of the possessed. The tiny fangs sank into the hairy skin. The man grunted, feeling the sting.
Norton turned to watch the capsule demon. The thing was standing below the capsule bottle. Suddenly it rose up to land on the shelf. It touched the bottle, and there was a small flash of light. Then the demon began to climb down the shelving. The hex had been undone.
Norton hurled the holy water at the little demon. The water struck -- and the demon puffed into smoke, exactly as before -- but a critical minute earlier in normal time.
He turned back to Agleh and the possessed. The man was leaning against the wall, bafflement on his face. Agleh stood alone, massaging her sore right arm, otherwise all right.
Norton relaxed. "It's over," he said. "The demon no longer possesses the man, and my mission is complete."
"I thought it was a good deal," the unpossessed mut -- tered. "But when that evil spirit actually took control -- God! I mean that literally -- I'm turning to God, while there's still time!"
"It's over," Agleh agreed. Time was now normal; they were all talking comprehensibly.
Then she vanished. Norton stood alone in the deserted and dusty house. What had happened?
In a moment he knew. He was back in his present. The power of the Hourglass had been exhausted, causing him to revert when his will no longer supported the fading magic of the instrument. Or it might be that when he tried to live in normal time flow, allowing himself to be carried along by the world current, he had run afoul of the three -- person barrier and been bounced out. Either way, it was over, and he had foiled Satan.
He looked at his bare hand. With a shock he realized that he had lost Sning. Agleh had been wearing him when it happened. Sning had saved her by poisoning the pos -- sessed and forcing the evil spirit to leave. Apparently the spirit had thought the man was going to die, so had instantly deserted the sinking ship -- and there had been no chance for her to give the ring back to Norton. She had intended to, but his sudden return had prevented it.
Norton sighed. That was a telling loss! But he missed Agleh, too. She had loyally helped him, and must have been chagrined when he deserted her so abruptly.
Well, perhaps it was only fair for her to retain a token of the experience. Chronos was gone, but Sning would comfort her.
Norton left the deserted estate, feeling lonely. On impulse he walked to Agleh's apartment
-- but found the neighborhood changed. In the intervening eight years the oasis of primitive life had been abolished, having no regressive Senator to preserve it. The building had been replaced by a warehouse. He could not find her or any -- thing of hers there.
He used the Hourglass to return to his mansion in Purgatory. The instrument performed sluggishly; it was tired. So was he; the success of his mission provided him
little elation.
He checked his mailbox. There was a single package in it, a small one. He opened it immediately, curious what anyone would send to Chronos -- and discovered Sning!
A brief note was enclosed, in feminine script. Chronos -- I couldn't keep Sning; he's yours. He told me this would reach you. Best wishes, Helga.
Norton stared at the message until it blurred. What a fine woman! Was there no way he could thank her?
Sning uncoiled, slid across his hand, and curled around his finger. Squeeze.
The separation had been brief, in Norton's terms, but eight years in another sense and an eternity emotionally. "Oh, Sning, I'm so glad to have you back! You say I can thank Agleh?"
Right there, in the Twenty Questions fashion, Sning told him. All he had to do was make a quick trip to a moment just before his interaction with her time and mail her a letter -- Sning had the address, which he could expli -- cate by squeezing as Norton pointed to letters and num -- bers on a sheet of paper -- that would reach her after their separation. Theoretically, the mails were magically enhanced to give one-day service, but in practice it was seldom so; there would be no paradox of premature deliv -- ery. He could even make it a package, containing some suitable gift that would please her.
"Yes," Norton agreed. Suddenly he felt much more positive. He would shop for an appropriate gift; Sning would help.
He glanced once more at the note before putting it away. Best wishes, Helga.
Helga -- her name forward, of course.
Now he remembered; he had known Helga in his younger days, while still employed within the system. She had come to him, inquiring, "Haven't we met before?" And he had been so flattered by the come-on from such a pretty and sensible woman that he had not demurred. They had kept company for a couple of years before the exigencies of his wanderlust and her professional nursing career had required an amicable separation. She had been his dearest female friend, prior to Orlene, and he felt a lingering fondness as he thought of her, even these six years later.
Odd that he hadn't thought about her before, or rec -- ognized her when he encountered her in his guise of Chronos. Obviously she had remembered him, thereafter, though she hadn't said so.
Odd? No, not odd at all! He had not known her in his first existence; she had been added to his experience as Chronos. His past had been changed -- without paradox.
Ironic that he should have that wonderful experience of her company only in memory, not in reality. Yet for her, surely, it had been fully real, and perhaps that had been her reward for helping him balk Satan. She had kept his secret, too; never had she mentioned Chronos, or spoken any backward word.
He still owed her. He would send her a really nice gift.
Whistling, he walked on into his mansion.
QUEST
"You have a caller, sir," the butler informed him.
"I'm not at home to callers at the moment," Norton said. "I've just had a very wearing session; the Hourglass and I must rest."
"Sir, he will not be denied. He is angry."
Norton paused. "Satan? I'm not surprised. All right, I'll tell him to go to Hell myself."
The Prince of Evil was literally fuming. A haze of sulfur smoke surrounded him, and his homs were showing. "You interfered with My demons!" He rasped, a small tongue of fire showing at his lips as he spoke.
"They interfered with my business," Norton said curtly. "Now you get out of my mansion; I have no use for you."
"You are messing up My whole program!"
"Good for me! I don't like being deceived or used for evil purpose."
"I will have satisfaction!" Satan said, his eyes flaming as he drew off one of his red gloves. He did not look at all benign now!
But Norton was fed up. "Go to Hell!"
Fire puffed out of Satan's ears. He raised his fist to Norton, clenching his glove.
Norton extended his white cloak. "Hit me," he invited.
"No," Satan snarled past lengthening tusks. He was enraged, but not foolish; he knew the defense of Time. Instead he hurled his glove directly at Norton's face. "You will go -- without return!"
Norton ducked the glove, though he knew it couldn't hurt him. But it puffed into smoke, and the smoke sur -- rounded him. He could see nothing. He stepped to the side, out of it.
He found himself on a green planet, looking at a Glob spaceship. He was back in the antimatter cluster!
"Damn it, how does he do that?" Norton demanded. "I didn't ask to come here again!"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Norton chuckled grimly. "Well, at least I have you with me, Sning! Do you know how I can return promptly home?"
Squeeze,squeeze,squeeze.
"You're not sure? But I understood Satan couldn't do anything to me without my consent."
Squeeze.
"But I didn't consent to this!"
Squeeze, squeeze.
That made him pause. Was Sning agreeing or disagree -- ing? "You say I did consent, tacitly?"
Squeeze.
"This time you're wrong, Sning! What could possibly interest me here?"
Then he spied a shape in the air. He squinted, and discovered a winged unicorn bearing a lovely young woman. Excelsia on the Alicom, both looking splendid, coming here.
Squeeze.
Norton sighed. "Point made," he agreed ruefully. Excelsia was a lovely young woman with whom he could interact on a continuing basis, since her time flow matched his. That did indeed appeal to him! "This must be the Magic-Lantern Cloud, instead of the globular cluster -- as good a place to relax as any."
Squeeze,squeeze.
"You say no? You mean Satan is up to something new?"
Squeeze.
"And he figures to keep me here so he can perform his mischief without my opposition?"
Squeeze.
"Then I'd better return immediately!" " Squeeze,squeeze, squeeze.
The Alicorn landed. Excelsia bounced off and ran toward him. Her gown this time was filmy white and low -- cut, and she was better endowed than he had realized;
Norton found that run fascinating. "0 Sir Norton!" she panted, her bosom heaving prettily. "I never thanked you properly for your valiant assistance -- and when I returned, you were gone! I have searched all over the planet for you!"
"Well, I -- "
She reached him and flung her arms about him. "Now at last I have found you!" She planted a delightful kiss on his mouth. He felt as if his feet were leaving the ground. "Thank you so much!" she breathed.
"You're welcome," he said. What an armful she was! "But I regret I must depart, because -- "
Her pretty face misted over. "Depart?"
"There is pressing business back on Earth, and -- "
Two big, shining tears formed in her lovely eyes. "But, Sir Norton, I have so much to show you!"
He gulped. How much he wanted to see what she had to show! But he had learned the hard way not to ignore Satan's mischief. "Uh, can I take a rain check?"
"A rain check!" she flared. There was a crack of thun -- der nearby, and rain began to threaten from a ballooning gray cloud.
Excelsia wrenched herself from his arms and fled toward her steed. "You can have a deluge for all I care, sirrah!"
Norton ran after her, sadly out of sorts. "Wait, Excel -- sia! I didn't mean it like that! It's just that -- "
She reached the Alicom, who brought his hom about to bear directly on Norton. Norton drew up short, not comfortable with that, though probably this creature could not hurt him. He didn't want to hurt the Alicorn, either.
"I'm sure you don't need to explain yourself to me," Excelsia said primly. "Go on home right now, sirrah, and I wish the other woman good fortune hunting!"
"There is no other woman!" Norton protested. But it occurred to him that, had Agleh been in his time frame, she would have been an excellent prospect; indeed, in the past she had been -- well, never mind that. And of course he still felt love for Orlene, and there was always Clotho, the one who really understood, so he wasn't being quite candid.
"Then you will stay?" Excelsia said, brightening.
How much harm could there be in a short stay? He had wanted to rest for a while, anyway.
Squeeze,squeeze.
"Shut up!" Norton snapped guiltily.
"Well!" Excelsia said, affronted.
"No, I didn't mean you!" Norton protested, taking a step toward her. But the Alicorn snorted and leveled his horn again, stopping that. "I was talking to Sning!"
The Damsel frowned attractively. "I remember Sning, the good adviser and strange steed. Does he tell you I be not good enough for you, sirrah?"
"No, of course not! He tells me there will be great trouble back on Earth if I don't return at once."
She mollified. "Then perchance you must go. Sir Nor -- ton. I regret my dainty outburst of temper. I will wait somewhat patiently for your return."
Would Satan ever let him come back here, after he had once again balked whatever mischief Satan was hatching now? Norton brushed that thought aside. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "I really wish I could be with you right now, but it must be duty before pleasure." He concen -- trated, willing himself home.
Nothing happened. Excelsia watched him with curi -- osity. "Belike you have mislaid your way?"
Norton realized that he had never made this trip on his own volition; Satan had conducted him each way. He didn't know how to return! "I seem to have done that," he admitted, abashed.
The space-blob had been sitting quiescently all this time. Now it irised open a wart. A man emerged. It was Bat Dursten. "Say, get a glimmer o' that there Femme!" he exclaimed.
The little Bern followed the spaceman out. It had grown some, but remained cute as a bug eye. It changed into a wheeled robot in the shape of a motorcycle. Dursten mounted, and the robotBem-cycle churned across to join the party.
The Alicom reared with alarm, spreading his wings. "What manner of thing be this?" Excelsia demanded, drawing her knife.
The Bemcycle angled its faceted headlamp to cover them as it proceeded. "Uh, it's okay," Norton said quickly. "It's just Bat Dursten, spaceman galore. And his Bern."
Her fair brow wrinkled with perplexity. "Bum?"
"Bern. An acronym for Bug-Eyed-Monster."
Dursten arrived and jumped off his vehicle. "Bemme," he clarified. "She's a Femme-Bem. 'Course, she's still young, not for messing with -- but ain't she pretty?"
The little Bemme shifted back to normal form, a blob with tentacles and huge insectoid eyes.
Excelsia screamed, and the Alicom snorted fire.
Norton hastily interposed himself. "They're from the space opera frame," he said -- and paused. "How can that be? This is the heroic fantasy frame!"
"Fantasy, smantasy!" Dursten exclaimed. "We got caught in a space warp and woof and had to make landfall on the closest green planet, to give the ship a chance to repair itself." He nodded toward the blob. "These Bern -- balls look like rotten eggs, but they're not bad when you get to know 'em. They can pretty well take care o' them -- selves, given half a chance. But what in space are you doing here, pardner? Last time I saw you, you'd vanished. I figured the Genius 'ported you away."
"Close enough," Norton said. "Now I've been, uh, teleported here. But this is a fantasy world you've landed on, where magic works, just as it does on my home world of Earth. Excelsia and I had quite an adventure -- "
Bat eyed the woman. "Yeah, I'll bet. Man, I'd shore like to take that there Femme myself and -- "
"Go eat a slimeblob, you utter cretin!" Excelsia snapped.
"Listen, you bare-boobed broad!" Bat retorted. "I don't take no shipment from -- "
"All a misunderstanding," Norton cut in before things could proceed to mayhem. Already the Bemme and the Alicom were squaring off, loyal to their associates. The Alicom had lowered his horn, while the Bemme had assumed the form of a giant pencil sharpener. "You're from two different worlds -- "
The Bemme sprouted an eyeball on a stem and squinted at him. "Three different worlds," Norton corrected him -- self. "Naturally, conventions differ. We have to be tol -- erant."
Excelsia shrugged gracefully. "Very well, since you ask it. Sir Norton. I can tolerate the presence of a cretin when absolutely necessary."
The spaceman grinned. "And I sort of go for bare bo -- "
"Agreed!" Norton interrupted. "If you will just explain to the creatures."
"Certainly," Excelsia said. "Bemme, if you can get along with that spacelout, I'm sure we females can -- "
"Shore," Dursten agreed. "Alicom, if a homy horse -- head like you can put up with that dizzy Femme, you and me can shore -- "
But already the Alicom and the Bemme were making up. She was batting huge faceted eyes at him and he was snorting an appreciative puff of smoke.
"Maybe you can help me. Bat," Norton said, relaxing. "I need to return home in a hurry, but I don't know how. Do you think you could contact a Genius and inquire?"
"Why, shore," the spaceman agreed laconically, glanc -- ing again at Excelsia's decolletage. "You can ship right home, and I'll take that there doll and..."
Excelsia huffed up to make an angry response, almost bursting out of her gown, but again Norton intercepted it. "And I'll return when my job on Earth is done."
"That, too," Dursten agreed without complete enthu -- siasm.
They proceeded to the blob spaceship. The Bemme assumed the form of a petite female Alicom and trotted along beside the real one, exchanging nickers.
Excelsia was fascinated and somewhat awed by the ship. "What magic mirror be this?" she inquired as the vidscreen lighted.
"Magic mirror!" Dursten echoed. "That's great!"
The Bemme was showing the Alicorn.the food syn -- thesizer, producing delicious alfalfa hay for the animals to munch on.
The head of a Genius appeared on the screen. "Yes?" the wizened entity inquired.
"Ooo, a goblin!" Excelsia murmured with distaste.
"My friend Norton here did dang good service for you, and you never paid him," Dursten said. "Now he needs a little -- "
"We do not exchange favors," the Genius said coldly. "We are strictly business."
"Maybe we can do business, then," Norton said. "All I need is some advice."
The veined eyeballs swiveled to orient on him. Norton felt his hair getting hot. Quickly he extended his cloak ambience and was cool. The Genius' orbs widened a trifle. "You counter my power?"
"I'm not from your cluster," Norton explained. "You should have that information in your records, from my last visit with spaceman Dursten."
"Records are suspect. You may be a Bern agent. You do occupy an alien ship."
"Captured," Dursten said quickly. "No Bems here."
The cruel eyes flicked to cover the Bemme. "What is that?"
"That ain't no Bern," Dursten insisted. Fortunately, the Bemme had retained her little Alicorn marc form in order to chew on the hay.
The Genius' eyes narrowed. Behind his back, Dursten made a signal. The Bemme jumped in the air, did a som -- ersault, and landed on her back, shuddering and lying still.
"Oh, the poor thing!" Excelsia exclaimed, hurrying to the Bemme. She shot an angry glance at the Genius. "You mean goblin, you killed her with a spell!"
"Ixnay," Dursten muttered under his breath.
Unmoved, the Genius returned his gaze to Norton. "Business?"
Norton was appalled by the creature's callousness, but he knew he could not afford to pass up any chance to return to Earth before Satan completed his mischief. "I need to go back to my own world promptly. Can you transport me there, or tell me how to return on my own?"
"I am unable to read your mind," the Genius said, as if this were a defect in the subject. It seemed the cloak of time protected Norton from this form of psi power, too. "Where is your world?"
"It's in the terrene section of the galaxy. Time moves forward there -- the reverse of yours. It's called Earth."
The Genius frowned. "Let me check our listing...yes, Earth is as you describe. A backward planet on the periph -- ery of the main disk. It is fifty-seven thousand light-years distant. That would represent a considerable expenditure of psychic energy."
"That must be why I can't get there myself," Norton agreed.
"You will have to perform an equivalent service for me."
"Well, I can try," Norton said cautiously.
"You are currently on the fantasy world of ('. The Evil Sorceress resides there."
"Not any more," Norton said. "We destroyed her."
"Destruction is seldom permanent in the magic realms." But the Genius checked his records again. "True, you did discomfit her for two hours. She recovered, but during that period of incapacity she suffered certain losses."
"The Alicorn," Norton said.
"And the nefarious null-psi amulet that prevents us from following her activities. Her more powerful sister, the Eviler Sorceress, now possesses it. Fetch me that amulet."
A Sorceress worse than the one he had encountered? Norton didn't like that. "That sounds risky to me! She would hardly give up such a prize voluntarily."
"True. That is my price for your return to Earth."
"But it could take me a long time to get such a thing, if I didn't get slimed on the way!"
"I suggest you move expeditiously."
Norton sighed. What an uncompromising tyrant! "I'll try."
The owlish head faded out. Dursten turned off the screen. "Okay, Bemme," he said.
The Bemme recovered instantly, flipping back onto her hooves, startling Excelsia. "You were pretending!" the Damsel exclaimed.
"Shore, I taught her tricks, like how to play dead," Dursten said cheerily. "Figured it'd come in handy some -- day. Shore faked out the Genius, didn't it!"
Excelsia's brow furrowed. "But why?"
"Why else, twit? So the Genius don't catch on she's immune to psi, that's why."
Norton remembered. "Geniuses can't touch Bems! That's why they hire mercenaries to do it!"
"Shore," the spaceman agreed. "If he'd zapped her, and it bounced, he'da known. So she played possum, and he figured she was a normal critter."
"But you told him no Bems were here -- "
"Right. Bems are male. Didn't say nothin' 'bout Bemmes."
Norton realized that Dursten was more canny than he looked. He had indeed saved the Bemme from discovery and thus enabled Norton to deal. "I thought you didn't like Bems," he said, aware that an exception had been
made.
"Well, I know this one," the spaceman said, embar -- rassed. "She's an orphan, you know, and a good kid. Real smart, too."
There, of course, was the secret to peace; people did not hurt creatures they knew well. Strangers were fair game, but not associates. "It seems I've got a chore to do," Norton said. "Anyone happen to know where the castle of the Eviler Sorceress is?"
"Oh, you wouldn't want to go there!" Excelsia pro -- tested.
"I've just got to get that amulet -- the sooner the better. So if you'll tell me where the castle is, I'll be on my way."
"Only a heroic fool would brave the Eviler Sorceress in her lair!" the Damsel warned, wringing her hands.
"Surely so."
"I can't let you go alone. Sir Norton," she said, trou -- bled. "I will go with you."
"Aw, shux, I'll come too," Dursten said then, skuffling his feet. "You helped me afore, after all."
"But it may be dangerous," Norton reminded them. "I don't want you to take such a risk on my behalf."
"You helped us, we'll help you," Excelsia said, her marvelous bosom heaving with emotion. "It's only right."
"Yeah," Dursten agreed, his eyes goggling with each heave.
"Thank you both," Norton said, moved.
Excelsia described the locale, and Dursten piloted the Bemship there, circling the planet and setting down out -- side the castle. The Damsel was suitably impressed with the strange flying vehicle, but the Alicom snorted with something like jealousy.
The abode of the Eviler Sorceress was a gloomy thing, with dark turrets, a dismal moat, and a wolf baying at the wall. A plaque over the front gate proclaimed: ABAN -- DON HOPE.
Norton gulped. "Well, thanks, folks," he said. "I'll take it from here."
Excelsia looked at the castle. Her fair features seemed greenish at the moment. "I'll -- I will go with you, Sir Norton," she said with tremulous bravery.
"Shux, me too," Dursten said, though he looked none too confident himself. Perhaps he had hoped the Damsel would let Norton go alone. "I don't hold with none o' this fantasy shimmer nohow."
"I really appreciate this," Norton said, feeling even more grateful than before. Satan had once assured him that he faced no genuine personal danger here, but now Satan was angry. "The Alicorn and the Bemme can wait in the spaceship -- "
The Alicom snorted. "He's coming too," Excelsia said.
The Bemme became a small humanoid robot. "Me too," the screen face said, the screen showing a small feminine mouth.
"But you two aren't even human!" Norton protested. "You have no call to risk your lives for us!"
The Alicom made a series of snorts. "He says the Latins called him Cornu, hom, before they ever saw the rest of him," Excelsia translated. "The Italians added the article, calling him Licorne, the horn. The Arabs added their arti -- cle, calling him Alicorno, THE the horn. Now he is the Ali -- corn, and he says he has associated with human beings as long as human beings have existed -- maybe longer. That is, with those who know the magic word to tame him tem -- porarily. You have no authority to tell him not to associate now. He can use his hom to detoxify much of the poison of the Eviler Sorceress."
"Well," the Bemme robot spoke up, "my kind has fought the bone-fleshed kind ever since our two species went to space and discovered the delights of interstellar war. We even named your kind: MAN."
"You did?" Norton asked, surprised.
"Of course. MAN -- an acronym." The mouth on the screen quirked with obscure humor.
"Oh? What do the letters stand for?"
"Multi-Appendaged-Numbskull, of course. Every creature who is worthy of the title of sapience knows that."
"What?" Dursten exclaimed indignantly. "It can't be that!"
The Bemme fidgeted, and the screen mouth frowned. "I did clean it up a little for mixed company." Two eyes formed on the screen, glancing at the Alicom.
"What's the danged original?" the spaceman demanded.
"Mucky-Arsed -- "
"We'd better get moving," Norton said quickly.
Dursten hesitated, then decided to let the acronym pass. After all, he had asked for it.
They advanced on the drear castle. This one, like the other, was wide open for entry, as if daring strangers to try it. These Evil Sorceresses were entirely too confident! The other one had nearly finished Norton; only Sning's intercession had saved him.
That reminded him. "Am I doing the right thing, Sning?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
He didn't like that answer. It meant he could go either way, and he wanted to go the correct way. "Is it right to seek the null-psi amulet?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
How he wished Sning could talk to him directly! "Well, warn me when I start to go wrong."
Squeeze.
They crossed the drawbridge and entered the dark aperture of the front gate. There was no sound; it was like a crypt. The air was cool and smelled faintly of earth.
"Ho!" Dursten called. "Anything in there?"
He was answered by a gust of wind that reeked like the flatulence of a corpse, and a low moan, as of breath sighing through deserted chambers.
Excelsia shivered. She wasn't wearing much, but her torso was excellently padded; her chill was more of the spirit than of the flesh. "I wish we had a candle," she said.
"You could conjure one," Norton suggested. "Aren't you entitled to one conjuration a day?"
She brightened. "Candle!" she exclaimed, and one appeared in her hand. It was a big taper, already burning, and it spread a fine light.
"Say, that there's a real good parlor trick," Dursten said. "Too bad you couldn'ta produced a laser fluoro -- scope, so we could spy the null-psi dingus through the walls."
The Damsel shrugged, not understanding his language. But Norton realized that the candle probably had been foolish, for she could indeed have conjured something far more effective for either illumination or protection. Well, he should have thought of that before he spoke; now her conjuration was done, and that was that. They would have to make do with what they had. The light of the candle was comforting, anyway. There was something about a flickering flame; it seemed alive, in contrast to the cold brilliance of an electric lamp.
They entered the dark hole. The Alicom led, since he could see and smell in the dark, was largely immune to poisonous magic, and had his weapon always ready. Excelsia followed with her candle, illuminating the pas -- sage for the rest of them. Her gauzy gown tended to become translucent when the light was on the far side. Norton admired the effect, but wished it wasn't occurring right at this time; he needed to be alert to the hazards of the castle.
Next came Norton, followed by Dursten, with the Bemme in her natural form bringing up the rear. She, too, could see pretty well in the dark because of her huge eyes. As Norton glanced back, he could see a thousand mini -- ature candles reflected in thejewellike facets other orbs. He doubted the Bemme would overlook anything!
The passage proceeded directly in toward the center of the castle. It was about eight feet square in cross sec -- tion, lined on all sides by clammy, mortared stones. In fact, those walls sweated tiny driblets of water that gleamed in the candlelight. The whole thing was dank and oppres -- sive. Norton began to feel claustrophobic, for no good reason.
The Alicorn came to a blank wall cutting off the pas -- sage. The light of the Damsel's candle showed smaller tunnels exiting at right angles to the left and right.
"Which way should we go?" Norton asked Sning.
Squeeze,squeeze, squeeze.
This was getting annoying! "Don't you have opinions any more?"
Squeeze.
"You mean I'm not asking the right questions?"
Squeeze.
Norton sighed. Maybe on a better day he would have been able to come up with the right questions and cut through this nuisance instantly; right now he was too dis -- tracted by the exigencies of the moment. It had been a long time since he had had a chance to relax and recu -- perate.
"Maybe we could split our party, and -- " Dursten began.
"No!" Norton and Excelsia said together. They remem -- bered getting separated in the castle of the other Sorcer -- ess.
Dursten shrugged. "Suit yourself. Pick a tube."
Norton chose randomly. He pointed right. "That one."
There was no warning squeeze from Sning, so they proceeded. This passage was narrower, only four feet across. It made another right-angle turn left and debouched into a chamber whose cross section was about twenty -- five feet and whose ceiling arched high above. The candle hardly lighted it all. Its far end, fifty feet distant, seemed to have another tunnel exit.
They spread out and started across.
Squeeze,squeeze.
"Hold it!" Norton said. "Sning just gave warning!"
The Alicom dipped his head to point with his hom. There was a line crossing the chamber about ten feet from the entrance.
"Trap door?" Dursten asked, peering at the line.
Squeeze, squeeze.
"No," Norton said. "I think we're not supposed to cross that line."
"Hell with that noise!" Dursten said impatiently. "Nobody corrals me like that nohow!" And he stepped across the line.
From the far side of the chamber a dozen blobs of drainpipe garbage appeared. Each one floated a foot above the floor, trailing drools of hair and slime. They fired clogs of jelly like stuff across the chamber as they advanced.
"Ooo, ugh!" Excelsia exclaimed, dodging a missile. Evidently she had been braced for routine things like knives or empty boots, but not for this.
"I'll get them gunks!" Dursten said gallantly. He drew his blaster and popped away with excellent aim. All space -- men, of course, were crack shots. As he scored on each gunk, it exploded, spraying coffee grounds and potato peels at the ceiling. In a moment the chamber was clear -- and messy.
Dursten blew off his smoking muzzle and bolstered his blaster. "Told you I'd upgrade my shooter," he said. "I never liked gunks nohow."
They continued on through the chamber, through the passage beyond, and into another blank wall with chan -- nels to the right and left. "Right again," Norton said. They turned right, and around another right-angle turn, and came into a chamber similar to the first, with another line across it. Dursten drew his blaster and stepped over the line.
More gunks appeared. One gunk splatted just behind Norton as he dodged. He turned to look at its impact on the wall -- and discovered that the stene was smoking. "That's acid!"
"Sure, them gunks don't mean us no good," Dursten said philosophically, blasting away at them. His aim remained uncanny; in a moment all gunks were refuse.
They passed on through into another passage, met another T-intersection, and turned right again. A left elbow brought them to a third chamber.
"Are we getting anywhere?" Excelsia inquired, waving her candle impatiently.
"Shore, we're blasting lots o' gunks," Dursten an -- swered, stepping across the line and proceeding to blast away.
"Is that all there is to human life -- blasting gunks?" the Bemme asked, forming a mouth for the speech.
"Ain't that enough?" Dursten asked.
The Bemme shrugged gelatinously and followed. But the question nagged Norton. He didn't want to continue blasting gunks indefinitely; he wanted to locate the Eviler Sorceress and get the amulet from her. He would be happy to bypass the gunks entirely.
They blasted through two more chambers. "Are these all different?" Norton asked.
Squeeze, squeeze.
"You mean we're repeating chambers?"
Squeeze.
"Let me check this." Norton walked back to the be -- ginning of the last chamber they had cleared of flying gunks and turned about. He stepped back across the line.
Twelve new gunks appeared. The other folk, caught by surprise, scurried to avoid them. Dursten got busy and blasted them all.
"Crossing the line does it," Norton said. "Watch." And, when they were out of the way, he crossed the line a third time -- and twelve more gunks appeared.
Dursten mopped them up. The charge in his upgraded blaster seemed indefatigable.
"Just what are we accomplishing?" Norton asked, frus -- trated. "We're repeating chambers and blasting things that are triggered into existence by a line!"
Dursten considered. "Never thought o' that," he ad -- mitted. "This here thing's just a maze."
A maze -- of course! Their object was not to blast innu -- merable gunks, but to find their way through the maze to the Eviler Sorceress. "So we aren't getting anywhere," Norton concluded. "Is that why you had no answer before, Sning?"
Squeeze.
"Can you direct us through this maze?"
Sning hesitated, then slowly squeezed once.
Still those odd reactions! They had not yet fathomed the whole truth about this sinister place! "Very well. Should we turn left at the next T?"
Squeeze.
They moved through the maze, following Sning's direc -- tions. Each new chamber brought a dozen new gunks for the spaceman to blast. Then, abruptly, they came to a chamber that was different. It was small, only eight feet on a side, and had no exit. At Sning's behest, they crowded inside.
The entrance door slid closed. Then the chamber descended. Excelsia screamed, thinking they were falling to their doom, and clutched Dursten desperately.
"Say, now," the spaceman said, pleased. "I guess I reckon there are better things'n blasting gunks!"
"It's only an elevator," Norton said. "Suing wouldn't send us into a trap."
"Not doom?" Excelsia asked, wide-eyed.
"Not even discomfort," Norton assured her.
"That's okay, cutie," Dursten said. "How 'bout a li'l kiss while we're at it?"
The Damsel realized where she was. "Oaf!" she shrieked, slapping him smartly and stepping indignantly away.
The spaceman shook his head. "Femmes -- who needs
'em?"
The elevator's motion stopped. The door slid open. Beyond was a green passage. "A new maze," Norton said, stepping out. "Can you guide us through this one, too, Sning?" Again the response was a slow squeeze.
"I wish I knew what's bothering you!" Norton exclaimed. "Is there danger we can't handle?" Squeeze, squeeze.
"Then let's move on through!"
They threaded the second maze. This one was curvy rather than angular, and the walls were green plaster. The chambers were ovals with bloated purple glitches attack -- ing on cue. These were resistive to Dursten's blaster, but popped like bubbles when pricked by Excelsia's knife point or the Alicorn's horn. "Just as well," Dursten said gruffly. "My blaster's charge ain't forever."
Sning guided them through the labyrinth to a second elevator. They entered and descended to a third level -- which turned out to be a yellow maze. The creatures in it were icks, like soft bowling balls with eyes where the holes should be. They rolled up, threatening to crush everything in their paths, but Dursten's blaster caused them to go all to pieces.
Then the charge gave out. The last ick was only winged. It spun out of control and banged into a wall. "Oh, the poor thing!" Excelsia exclaimed. "It's hurt!" She dashed to it and put her arms about it.
"Crazy dame! What about my blaster?" Dursten demanded.
"Oh, shove your -- " But she was too ladylike to be able to complete a thought like that.
"Maybe I can stomp the ick," he said.
"Leave it alone!" she flared, cuddling the bowling ball. "Can't you see it's suffering?"
The spaceman shot a baffled glance at Norton. "Femmes! Can you figger 'em?"
"Not me," Norton said, though in truth he had some sympathy with the ick. It was perhaps a variety of wil -- derness creature, forced to serve as cannon fodder for #the Sorceress. He bore no special ill wilt for the soldiers of the front, who tended to be victims of circumstances no matter which side they fought on.
But this delay gave him an opportunity to ponder the situation again. These multilayered mazes -- were they any different from the endless mazes on any one level, if a person proceeded randomly? Was there any more point in threading endless mazes than there was in blasting end -- less gunks, glitches, and icks? Especially considering that Dursten's blaster had pooped out? Well, he would find out. "Is there?" he asked Sning.
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Is that why you've been hesitant? You can guide us through the mazes, but there's not much point?"
Squeeze.
"Do you know an alternative?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
He had been afraid of that. "So we've still got to mud -- dle through ourselves?"
A reluctant squeeze. Sning was doing his best, and he was very helpful, but his limit of information had been reached; this castle maze was too complex.
The Eviler Sorceress, Norton realized, didn't have to kill them directly. She could simply let them wear them -- selves out in interminable mazes until they were too tired to bother her, or until they made some mistakes and got creamed by whatever monsters defended the level they were on. They were fools to play the Sorceress' game -- yet Sning lacked the power to penetrate that larger riddle.
"Hick says there's a secret room," Excelsia announced.
"Hick?" Norton asked.
"The icks are named by letters. This is H ick. He says if he'd known how nice we are, he wouldn't have tried to roll us."
Norton had an idea. "That room -- does it have any -- thing we can use -- like maybe the amulet?"
"Hick doesn't know," the Damsel said.
"Sning, can you tell?"
Squeeze.
They were back in business! "It has the amulet?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
Sigh. Somehow things never turned out easy! "But it does have something that will help us shorten this rat race?"
Squeeze.
"Let's find it, then!" He turned to Excelsia. "Will Hick show us that room?"
The Damsel talked to the ick by tapping on its surface with her delicate knuckle. The ick answered by making little off-center rolls. "He says he'll try," she repeated. "But the way is difficult."
"It always is," Norton said with resignation. "We'll get through somehow. Lead the way."
The ick rolled to the side of the chamber, somewhat awkwardly because of its -- his? -- injury, and stopped. "He says through there," Excelsia said.
Norton contemplated the wall. It looked very solid. Well, Hick had warned that the way was difficult! "We have to break a hole?"
Squeeze.
Norton tapped the yellow wall with his knuckle. It was of the same substance as the ick, slightly resilient but quite solid, like padded plastic. He struck it with his fist, and made no impression. Just as he had suspected -- soft but strong.
"A danged padded cell!" Dursten said, disgusted. "Bemme, shape up and try it."
The Bemme formed into a robot with a sledgehammer fist. She pounded this at the wall. The fist bounced off harmlessly. She changed form to that of a small crane with a dangling wrecking ball. This, too, bounced off harmlessly.
Norton saw the problem. "A brittle surface would crack, but this padding absorbs most of the shock."
"Hick says he could do it," Excelsia reported. "If he weren't injured."
"It figgers," Dursten said wryly.
The Alicorn poked at the wall with his hom. He suc -- ceeded in making a hole, but the hom got stuck and he had to wrench it out. He couldn't break through either.
Norton pondered. "If the icks can do it -- too bad we can't get their cooperation. Or can we, Sning?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Well, he could understand the little snake's problem. The creatures of the Sorceress answered to the Sorceress, so it was difficult for Sning to predict their reactions.
"Shux," Dursten opined. "We don't need them things to agree. We can trick 'em into helping."
Squeeze.
"Sning says that's it," Norton reported.
"Shore it is," the spaceman agreed complacently.
"But how -- ?"
"Aw, Bemme can do it. Bemme, trick 'em."
The Bemme pondered a moment, then slid to the wall, formed a dripping-ink appendage, and painted a tunnel opening on it. The picture was very realistic; the Bemme was a fair artist. Then she slid to the center of the chamber and formed into a wooden barricade with an arrow point -- ing to the wall and a printed sign saying: DETOUR.
"Say, that's neat!" Dursten said. "You're doing okay, Bemme." The wooden barricade purred.
The spaceman walked to the line, crossed it, and then stepped back toward the center of the chamber.
A dozen new icks rolled out of the opposite passage. They advanced on the barricade, hesitated, then made a right-angle turn and took off toward the wall. One by one, they plunged into the painted passage.
The first one struck the wall roundly and smithereened. Hot on its tail, the second struck the same spot, denting the wall and in the process fracturing itself. Rapidly the others followed, and with each impact the dent grew deeper, until the last ick crashed on through. There was a faint whistling sound, followed seconds later by a distant thunk.
The Alicom trotted up to the hole in the wall and poked his head through. He neighed with surprise and withdrew.
Norton looked next. Only a little light came through from Excelsia's candle; that showed beyond the wall a void -- a crevasse whose height and depth were lost in darkness. There seemed to be no way around it; it par -- alleled the wall.
Excelsia brought her candle and joined him. The candlelight showed another wall about ten feet beyond -- evidently the confinement for the next chamber.
"Where do we go from here?" Excelsia asked. "We don't need to break into another ick chamber, do we? We could get into that by going through the tunnels."
True. This was apparently the interstice between the chambers of the maze, and since the secret chamber they sought was outside the maze, this was where they wanted to be. But it seemed impossible to pass!
"Well, we must have to follow this, uh, space to the key chamber," Norton said. "If the Alicom can fly it -- "
"He can fly it," Excelsia said confidently. "He will carry anyone I ask him to. But he can bear only one person."
"If he could ferry us across one at a time -- "
"But he doesn't know where to go," she said.
"The ick knows," Dursten said. "Take the ick first."
The Damsel nodded. "And return for the rest of us once he knows the way. Spaceman, you aren't quite as stupid as you seem."
"Thank you, gal," Dursten said, skuffling his feet.
"Nor as ugly as you look," the Bemme added. The spaceman patted her on a bug eye affectionately.
They rigged a harness from Dursten's shirt to fasten Hick to the Alicom's back. Then the Alicorn scrambled through the hole, fell into the void, spread his wings, righted himself, and flew upward. His wing tips brushed the walls on either side, despite a considerably shortened stroke; he was cramped but remained airborne. He dis -- appeared to the right.
The others waited anxiously. Would the ick lead them the right way? If the creature had only been pretending to join them, it could guide them right into disaster -- or simply deprive them of the Alicom by leading the animal into a trap. How could they be sure?
Squeeze.
That was a relief. Sning might not be able to fathom the labyrinth of the castle interstices, but he had confi -- dence in Hick.
The Alicom returned, wearing the empty harness. They put the Bemme in it, and the winged unicom departed again. It seemed that the Bemme could assume the form of an Alicom, but could not actually fly like one; that was a matter of muscle and magic, not mere appearance.
"Say, pardner," Dursten drawled, getting bored with the wait; he had a short attention span. "Do you have all this shipment in your world?"
"I suppose we do," Norton answered. "We have both science and magic, so there could be castles like this, though I never encountered any myself." Something about his own statement bothered him, but he couldn't quite nail it down.
'"Cept you live backward," the spaceman said.
"Backward?" Excelsia asked, her fair brow furrowing in the pretty way it had.
"Mine is a terrene-matter world," Norton explained. "Yours is contraterrene, otherwise known as antimatter, so your time is reversed."
"But we are together!" she protested.
"That's because I am Chronos. I live backward. In my own world, everyone else is going the other way."
"That must be very awkward for you," she said.
"It is, on occasion. It does interfere with continuing social relations."
"There be no such problem here," she pointed out.
He looked at her. She was lovely. How nice it would be to have a continuing relationship with her, forever searching out new enchantments. But his world was in trouble, and he had to go back as soon as he could manage.
The Alicom returned, and Excelsia boarded. Now Norton and Dursten waited, watching her candlelight recede. They were in darkness.
"I ain't so dumb I can't see how she likes you, Nort," Dursten said. "If I was in your britches, I'd shore stick around!"
Norton sighed. "I'm sure that's what Satan has in mind. If I am tempted to remain here, he can have his will with Earth."
"Who's Satan?"
"The Incarnation of Evil. You have no Devil here?"
"Hell, no! I'm a science man myself. I don't believe none o' that ship."
"Perhaps he doesn't exist here."
"Must be," Dursten agreed. "We ain't superstitious." He glanced at the hole; Norton could tell by the sound of his body moving. "I shore hope that there animal don't get lost in the dark, knock on wood." He tapped the plastic floor.
Then they heard the beat of great wings and relaxed. The spaceman's nonsuperstitious knocking must have helped.
Dursten was next. "We'd never a needed this, Nort, if my danged spaceship had fitted in here," he remarked as he mounted invisibly. "But I gotta admit, this shore's a good horse." Then they were through the hole and gone, and Norton was alone.
Now the darkness seemed to press in on him. He was an adult, but he didn't like this. He liked to see where he was and he liked company. He really felt the isolation of his office! This antimatter Cloud was indeed tempting, because of the companionship it allowed. To be able to interact with a woman like Excelsia, who seemed much more interested in him than she had been on the prior adventure, and to have her remember in the same sequence he did; to touch her, love her
-
Touch her? Again he felt a wrongness. What was it? Not merely that Satan was tempting him; he knew that. Not that Excelsia would be unwilling; she was virginal but ready to be wooed. Not that there was any insur -- mountable difference between their cultures; they were remarkably similar. He loved the wilderness; she was a creature of it, not even knowing the city life. They had the same language -
Same language? How could that be? There had never been any contact between the people of the Glob or those of the Magic-Lantern Cloud and the people of the normal galaxy! There couldn't be, because matter and antimatter could not touch. When the two came together, they anni -- hilated each other, dissolving into total energy with an explosion that dwarfed any nuclear detonation.
Explosion? Total conversion? Then how was he able to exist here? He was normal matter; he knew that. He had lived most of his life normally, until taking the Hour -- glass. After that he lived backward -- but he remained terrene, for he had touched normal people, such as Agleh, and normal Incarnations, such as Clotho, and could phase in with them any time.
Well, his magic white cloak protected him from attack, and might also protect him from the ravage of contact with antimatter. But he kept that cloak shield withdrawn when interacting with friends -- which meant it wasn't operating.
The more he pondered, the more certain he became that Satan had lied to him. This was no contraterrene frame! It couldn't be! He had kissed Excelsia, and neither of them had exploded. There had to have been social contact between Earth and these other worlds before. The Alicom had referred to the Latins, Italians, and Arabs, and it was simply not to be believed that there could have been similar names in a frame having no contact with Earth. Without the antimatter aspect, such contact became feasible.
But how was it, then, that the time scale was back -- ward?
He heard the wingbeats of the Alicom's return, and his thought was interrupted. But he remained shaken. There was definitely something about this too-similar-to -- Earth setting that didn't mesh, but he did not yet com -- prehend the full nature of Satan's lie. And why should he? Satan was the Father of Lies, the ultimate profes -- sional in deception, while Norton was only a man, not long experienced in his present office. Still, now he was sure there was a lie to decipher! That was a significant revelation, and he would go on from there.
The Alicom came to him in the dark, and Norton fum -- bled to a mounting. He braced his legs against the firm front anchorage of the great wings and grabbed two hand -- fills of mane. "Let's go, gallant beast!" he said.
They squeezed through the hole and dropped into the void. The wings beat, and the Alicom forged, as Excelsia would put it, onward and upward. They were flying -- and it was a wonderful feeling! Little jets of flame showed at the creature's nostrils as the Alicom exerted himself, and the flame lighted the region dimly. No wonder the beast could handle himself in the dark; his own breath gave him just enough light to aid his excellent vision. This was certainly the finest of steeds!
They flew swiftly through the dark reaches, then cruised around a comer where two voids intersected. Norton saw dimly how massive arches of substance crossed from wall to wall, requiring the Alicom to travel above or below;
these would be the casings for the passages between chambers of the regular mazes. This castle was twice as complicated as he had thought! Then they flew down to a cold nether pass, up to a warm high pass, and into the view of Excelsia's flickering candle. The Alicom landed neatly on a high, strong ledge where the rest of the party waited.
"You're safe. Sir Norton!" Excelsia exclaimed, almost singeing his ear with the candle flame as she flung her arms about him. She planted a moist kiss on him.
Contraterrene? Not likely!
The ledge was the edge of a sloping surface that pro -- ceeded toward a dim glow inland. Hick rolled confidently down, and the others followed.
The glow expanded as they approached. It turned out to be a hot section of the pavement before a passage into a mound. The ick rolled to a stop at the edge of the glow.
"In there?" Norton asked, unpleased.
"Hick says yes," Excelsia said. It was unclear how she communicated with either ick or Alicom, as she did not always tap the former or touch the latter, but obviously she understood them. "He can't go there; the heat would melt him. And it would singe Ali's wings, too; he can't escape it in that low tunnel."
"How far in is the chamber?" Norton asked.
"Hick says not far. About fifty feet."
This frame had the same measurements as Earth, too. Feet, inches. Everything was the same! "Then Hick and the Alicom can wait here while the rest of us go in."
The Damsel tested the air near the passage by extend -- ing her hand. "Ooo, that would bum my tender flesh!"
She was correct. The ambience was too hot for any of them. "I'll go alone," Norton decided. "If I can find a way."
Squeeze.
"There is a way?" Yet again he was frustrated by Sning's inability to speak. "Some way I can be protected from the heat?"
Squeeze.
Norton looked around, but saw nothing. "Sning says I can be protected -- though I don't know how."
The Bemme slid up. She settled into a furry puddle about eight feet in diameter. "Her?" Norton asked, and received Sning's squeeze in response.
"Oh, I get it," Dursten said. "She's a heat shield. Put her on."
"Put her on?" Norton repeated dubiously.
The spaceman bent to pick up the thin material. It flopped and folded in his hands like a quilt. He held it out to Norton. "Yep. She's good at this -- she superinsulates, when she wants to. The perfect blanket." The blanket purred.
Norton tentatively took hold of the Bemme-cloth. It felt like furry silk. He draped it over his head and shoul -- ders. It was really quite comfortable. "This will really shield me from the heat?"
Squeeze.
"Okay, I'll try it. I'll return this way once I have what I need from the chamber."
The others nodded. It struck him what an odd group they were -- a swashbuckling spaceman, a voluptuous, innocent Damsel, a winged unicorn, and an animate bowl -- ing ball. But he liked them all; they were dedicating them -- selves to his welfare.
He turned and stepped onto the hot pavement. His solid shoes protected him from the immediate heat of it, and his Bemme-cloak shielded him from the ambient heat. It was working!
Nevertheless, he hurried. He ran through the tunnel toward a greener glow ahead -- with luck, the chamber.
It was; in moments he burst into it, and the heat abated. But he kept the cloak draped over his shoulder, just in case.
He looked around. Four people stood in lighted alcoves:
an old gray-robed, gray-bearded man; a stoutish, middle -- aged woman in a business suit; a strikingly beautiful young woman in a bursting bikini; and a boy of about six with a moderately arrogant curl to his lip. They were all quite still, as if in suspended animation; perhaps they were in storage, awaiting whatever use the Eviler Sorceress might choose to make of them at her convenience.
What now? He had not known what to expect, and now did not know what to do with what he had found. "One of them can help me?" he asked Sning.
Squeeze.
"Can give me the amulet?" Squeeze, squeeze.
Perhaps that had been too much to hope for. "Can you indicate which one?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
Still too complex for the little snake. Human beings were far more devious than mazes! Well, he couldn't expect Sning to handle everything.
Norton went to stand before the old man. He saw now that the man's robe was mail, linked and woven metal to protect him from attack. He wore a small iron crown, and his face was set in a half-sneer of authority. Surely he was some great king or warlord. "Uh, hello," Norton essayed.
"Speak up, youngster!" the man said, coming to life in the alcove. His voice had a fine timbre. "Do you accept my gift?"
"I'm not sure. Who are you? What is your gift?" "I am Ozymandius, King of Kings," the king said
grandly. "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. My gift is Power."
"Power?" Norton looked around, but saw no works he could safely attribute to the king.
"Power, lad. I can make you the master of all you survey, with authority to extirpate lives by your merest whim."
Norton pondered. "Do you know anything about this, Sning?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
Again, he would have to decide for himself. He remained uncertain, but had no alternative. "Can you give me power over the null-psi amulet?"
"Certainly," the king said.
But Norton decided to try one more question. "Can you give me power over the whole contraterrene frame?"
"Indubitably," the king assured him.
Just so. Norton moved on to the next person. Now he saw that the middle-aged woman's suit was of woven gold, and she wore a necklace and bracelets formed of brilliant precious stones. "Hello, ma'am."
"A greeting, young man," the woman said, coming to life as the old king had. Evidently this was another rote address, as Norton was not really young. "Do you accept my gift?" Diamonds sparkled at her ears as she moved her head.
"Who are you, and what is your gift?"
"I am Mrs. Croesus, widow of the fabulous King of Lydia, who was the father of coinage. My gift is Wealth." She extended her arm so that her sleeve pulled back to reveal additional bracelets of gold, platinum, and emer -- alds. She opened her jacket to show inner pockets stuffed with bright gold coins.
"Enough wealth to buy the null-psi amulet?"
"Certainly." She moved her leg, and an anklet of spar -- kling opals showed.
"Enough to buy the contraterrene frame?"
"Assuredly."
Norton went on to the next. "Hello."
The lovely young woman animated. "Oh, aren't you the handsome one!" she cooed. "I am Circe. Let me delight you with my gift."
"What is your gift?" Norton had heard of the lovely sorceress Circe and didn't trust her.
"Romance," she breathed ecstatically. "I can bring you to fantastic heights of passion and fulfillment such as you can hardly imagine, let alone endure!"
"A height sufficient to make me forget about the null -- psi amulet?"
"Of course!" she agreed, leaning forward.
Norton blinked. It took him a moment to remember his next question. "More passion than elsewhere in the contraterrene -- ?"
"Oh, yes!" She sighed. Her bikini halter was beginning to fray from the tension on it.
Norton took one last look, gulped, and moved regret -- fully on to the boy. "Hello."
"What's it to ya?" the lad snapped impertinently. "Ya
want my furshlugginer gift or don't ya, creep?" "What is your gift?"
"I can tell ya where anything is. Now get lost, jerk." "Anything in the contraterrene cluster?" The boy stared at him. "What CT cluster, dodo?" "How about the Magic-Lantern Cloud? It's CT, too." The boy shook his head. "Mister, you're dreaming!
Ain't no CT here!"
Finally one who spoke the truth, however insolently! "I will accept your gift."
"What, when ya coulda had power, pelf, or sex? Ya nuts, moron?"
"Tell me where the amulet of null-psi is."
"Ah, ya don't want that thing! It don't do nothin'."
"I do want it."
The boy eyed him with new appreciation. "Ya got a
death wish, dumbbell?"
"I need it to make a deal with a Genius." "You're crazy, numbskull! Them bulbheads will screw
ya every time!"
"You mean they don't honor agreements?" "Oh, they stick to the letter, sorta, but they use the
loopholes to weasel out anyway. Ya ain't going to get
nothing you want from no skullbrain."
"I don't seem to have much choice. Where is the amu -- let?"
"Aw, Eve's got it." "Eve?"
"The Eviler Sorceress, dolt! Ya can't get near that bitch, and if ya could, she'd zap ya before she'd let ya get that thing."
"Zap me?"
"Ya know. Turn ya to mush, like her sista useta. She ain't going to give ya no amulet, that's for sure, stupe."
"I will have to take that chance. Tell me where the Sorceress is."
"Aw, she moves about all the time. Ya gotta reach her through channels."
"Then show me the channel."
"It's another chamber, first off, where they can get a bead on the route. But it's real hard to get there. Ya gotta pass the animals."
"I'll find a way." And Norton listened while the imper -- tinent boy described the route in his particular vernacular. Then the boy returned to immobility in his alcove, and Norton redraped his Bemme heat shield and ran back to rejoin the others.
"We have to find another chamber," he reported, doff -- ing the Bemme, who re-formed her natural shape as he set her on the pavement. "You were great, Bemme! I hardly sweated." She blushed pink with pleasure all over.
"Well, let's mosey on, then," Dursten said, rolling him -- self a cigarette and touching it to one of the hot coals in the ground to light it.
They moseyed on, following the route the boy had described. "But we have to watch out for pieharps," Nor -- ton said.
"What's a pieharp?" Excelsia asked. "Something to eat, or something to play?"
"I'm not sure," Norton admitted. "But I fear it's some -- thing that will try to eat or play us."
The ledge they were following circled the mound and cooled. It broadened, becoming a darkling plain on which thick, dark stalks grew, bearing long, thin leaves. Excelsia held her candle close to one, peering at it. "This looks familiar."
"Watch it, gal," Dursten warned. "It might eat you."
"No, it's harmless," she decided. The Alicom sniffed a plant, then began eating it avidly. Excelsia clapped her hands. "Oh, I know! 'Tis flying carpet reed!"
"Why, so it is," Norton agreed, startled. "I've seen the same thing back on Earth. They strip the long fibers and weave them into magic carpets."
"Yes, that is done here, too," she said.
Squeeze.
Norton glanced at Sning. "A warning?"
Squeeze.
"Danger coming?" When Sning agreed, Norton relayed the warning to the others.
"By land or by space?" Dursten asked. It turned out to be both. "Then we better get us a ship,"
the spaceman decided. "You say these here weeds can
fly?"
"They must first be stripped and cured," Excelsia said. "In their natural state they are too wild."
"We don't have time for that," Dursten said. "I can tame a wild ship; I'm the best dumed pilot in this neck o' space. Hold your light here, gal; I'll make us a ship." He began tearing plants out of the ground.
Dursten seemed to know what he was doing. Norton and the Bemme helped him harvest the plants and weave them into a crude and shaggy mat. True to the Damsel's warning, the thing was extremely unruly. It bucked and tossed ferociously, threatening to fall apart. Finally the Bemme formed herself into an endless rope and wrapped herself about the mat, holding it together. Dursten clam -- bered on it, braced his feet in rough-hewn stirrups the Bemme formed, and hauled on vine reins. "Yahoo!"
There was a sound ahead of them -- raucous screech -- ing, as of a flock of unruly birds. Sning gave Norton another warning squeeze. "That's it," he told the others. "The danger!"
"Well, we can stand and fight," Dursten said. "But with my blaster dead -- "
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Sning says fighting's no good," Norton reported. "We'd better try to avoid this threat." He asked Sning, "Can we outrun it, then?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
He glanced at the bucking carpet, not thrilled with that prospect. "Outfly it?"
Squeeze, squeeze,squeeze.
What did that mean? Neither yes nor no! But the birds were coming too fast; there was no time for twenty ques -- tions. "We'd better try to outfly it!"
"Then get aboard, Nort!" Dursten cried.
Norton grabbed onto the back half of the bucking bundle of plants. Some carpet! He hauled himself up behind the spaceman and hung on gracelessly. Excelsia mounted the Alicom. In a moment all of them were airborne except the ick. There simply was no way to carry that creature this time. "Hide, Hick!" Norton called to it, and Hick rolled away.
The menace arrived. Norton saw them in the unreliable light of Excelsia's candle -- fantastic crossbreeds with the lower bodies of human beings and the upper torsos and heads of gross birds. "Pieharps?" Excelsia cried, horri -- fied.
Norton figured it out. Human tops and bird bottoms were harpies; bird tops and human bottoms were pie -- harps. They looked and sounded vicious.
The pieharps were running along the ground, using their powerful legs. But when they saw their prey escap -- ing, they spread their dark wings and launched into the air. They were big, hairy, and fast -- faster in the air than either carpet or Alicom. Sning's warning had been well advised. But Sning had also hinted that they might some -- how outfly the menace -- or at least, Sning had not denied the possibility.
1 "I'm ready to hotshot it!" Dursten cried. "Hang on, Nort, while I buzz them there birds!"
Norton hung on. There was nothing else he could do. He had never been aboard an uncured carpet before and hoped never to repeat the experience. Under the space -- man's guidance, the carpet bucked, then slued around to charge the pieharps.
The bird-men squawked and scattered, caught by sur -- prise. "Get along, li'I dogies!" Dursten called, pursuing them. The weed-steed swooped and reared, kicking up its leaves, bashing into the posteriors of the fleeing pie -- harps.
Norton was amazed. The pieharps obviously had the more formidable force, but the antics of the carpet kept them disorganized. Thus, without either outflying or out -- fighting the bird-men, the spaceman was nullifying them.
Norton looked up and saw Excelsia on the Alicorn, hovering above. There was blood on the animal's horn and hooves; evidently he had fought off some pieharps. But now the pieharps had forgotten about him, because of the distraction of the men on the carpet. Sning's ambig -- uous response was making sense.
"Hang on, pardner!" Dursten cried. What did he think Norton had been doing? Now the rug made a vertical loop. The surroundings whirled around dizzily, a universe in chaos, a dream-world.
A dream-world...
This whole adventure lacked credibility as an objective situation. Maybe convergent evolution was possible, as Satan had described it -- but if the Glob and the Cloud really were flowing backward in time, what were the chances of their people matching Earth's so closely, even in slang, right at this moment? This planet of / should be either more primitive or more advanced than Earth, not just the same. Who, in his right mind, would believe in this coincidence? This frame couldn't be opposite in time flow to Earth!
But a dream world, now -- made up for Norton's ben -- efit within his own mind -- that could be believed. That would require no galactic travel, no contraterrene frame, no reverse time flow or phenomenal coincidences. A dream world was so obvious -- how could he have overlooked it? Satan, the Father of Lies -- naturally he would use an easy lie in preference to a difficult truth to gain his nefar -- ious designs.
But if this was a dream -- why couldn't Norton simply break out of it? He had tried to will himself home at the outset and had failed. Was he drugged, so that he was locked in until the drug wore off? No, Satan could not have done that to another Incarnation. There had to be a trick of some sort, something Norton did not yet under -- stand. This was another type of puzzle, and to solve it he had to find the key to its solution.
Sning, do you know?
Squeeze, squeeze.
In the end, the mischief of Satan had to be a greater thing than a little magic snake could compass. Sning was like a pocket calculator, very useful for spot answers, but not for the formulation of questions about the nature of ultimate reality.
Squeeze.
"Which way from here, pardner?" Dursten cried.
Norton's question, precisely! But until he found his private personal key to escape, he would have to play the game he was locked into. He gave instructions, and the galloping rug charged and disrupted another wave of pie -- harps. Then it lifted and swung onto course. The pieharps were now so disorganized they didn't even follow right away; possibly they thought the rug was about to loop back on them.
Too disorganized to follow -- again, an analogy of his own condition. Satan was keeping him so occupied with challenges of the moment that he couldn't figure out the grand design. Obviously, Satan's finger was in this adven -- ture, as it had been throughout; since fiction was the highest form of lie, naturally the Father of Lies was skilled at it. Challenge, adventure, humor -- Norton had to admit it was a good presentation.
They zoomed on toward the next station. The wind caught up Excelsia's skirt, so that her legs flashed, still draped sidesaddle. Sex appeal, Norton added mentally to his list of fictive qualities. Everything was here -- and, frustrating as it was, Norton had to admit to himself that he liked it. This sort of thing surely was a reward for Satan's minions. But Norton knew he could not afford to allow himself to remain locked in it.
The pieharps re-formed. They pounded after carpet and Alicom, their hairy bare legs dangling. They were gaining; soon the fight would resume.
"Them birdbrains won't leave off," Dursten muttered, glancing back. "I shore wish I had a recharge on my blaster! Didn't you say there are caves in between? With stag-tites and stuff?"
"Stalactites," Norton agreed. "You can distinguish them from stalagmites mnemonically by thinking of the C in stalactite as standing for ceiling, and the G in Stalagmite as standing for ground. So the stalactite hangs from the -- "
"Just tell me where they are!" the spaceman snapped. ^'Afore them barefoots catch us!"
He had a point. "But it's not safe to go near them in the air in this dark. Those things are solid onyx, like giant icicles -- "
"It's them or the featherfaces!" Dursten cried.
Indeed, the bird-men were closing in rapidly, screaming belligerently. They were flapping in at the carpet, pecking at it. Norton tried to kick them away, but it was futile;
he was too busy just hanging on.
Then the party approached the cave region. All of this was inside the castle, of course, between the walls con -- fining the regular functions. There seemed to be an extraordinary amount of waste space here.
The Alicorn flew beside the cave entrance, hovering while Excelsia's candlelight played across it. The stalac -- tites were there. Icicles? No, they were more like jagged teeth! The polished onyx gleamed reflectively, wet like saliva in the mouth of that orifice. Inside the cave, behind the first row, Norton could see the points of endless backup rows of them. If the C stood for ceiling, surely the T stood for teeth! Norton didn't want to fly through that!
"Yore squeeze dingus," the spaceman said as he absent -- mindedly clubbed a pieharp on the beak with the butt of his blaster. "Can it call out stag-mites?"
"I suppose so," Norton said, giving up on the lesson in pronunciation. "But what -- ?"
"Call 'em out, 'cause we're going through!" And the carpet charged the cave.
"But it takes time to get that sort of information! Sning can only -- "
"Just tell me when one's dead ahead and close!" Squeeze. "Now!" Norton cried, knowing in his heart that they would crash into a tooth and fall helplessly to the rising stalagmites below.
The carpet swerved. In the faintly flickering and distant illumination of Excelsia's candle, he saw the stalactite pass just to their left. Two pieharps, too hot in pursuit, crashed into it. They screamed and dropped out of sight, for that had been a high-speed collision. In seconds their descending screams cut off abruptly. They had struck the spires below. But many more still pursued.
Squeeze. "Another!" Norton cried. He was terrified by this suicidal flight.
The carpet swerved left -- and three more pieharps were caught by the column on the right. They weren't looking where they were going; of course, the darkness made it easy to err.
"Ain't this fun?" Dursten demanded exuberantly. "I ain't flown like this since I threaded the head of a comet on a dare!" He sobered momentarily. "'Course, I did lose my ship on that one..."
That was indeed the problem on this sort of thing! But Dursten certainly was an able pilot. He swished the carpet past half a dozen columns, taking out most of the pie -- harps. In the dark, the bird-men were unable to maneuver as effectively as the Sning-guided carpet.
Abruptly they were at the next stage of the trip -- the deep caves. These were much smaller than the prior ones, with no stalactites or stalagmites, and had many rounded tunnels that wound through the rock. It was necessary to traverse these to reach the second chamber.
The Alicorn came to land on the ledge. He had taken an easier route through the caves -- the space between the points of the stalactites and stalagmites. But had Dursten done that, the pieharps would have pursued them unscathed. Norton had to admit that the spaceman had known what he was doing; he was indeed a hotshot pilot.
There was a new problem, however. The caves were large enough for all of them to walk, including the Alicorn, but not to fly. There were no impassable crevices or heated stones. But these caves were occupied. As soon as the group entered them, Excelsia's candle showed the anten -- nae of giant insects.
They were monstrous termites, predators of the castle interstices. The ones in front were warriors, with gro -- tesque armor and huge pincers. They scuffled along the tunnels, familiar with the labyrinth, for it was the termites that had carved out these warrens. In time they would hollow out so much of the castle that it would collapse. But that was in the future, while the problem of passage was now. How was it possible to get by?
Squeeze.
"Sning says there is a way," Norton reported. "Does that there thing know my blaster's dead?" Squeeze. "Sning knows. Can we fight through?" Squeeze, squeeze.
"Sneak through?" Dursten put in. Squeeze, squeeze.
"Bluff through?" Excelsia asked. Squeeze,squeeze.
"You shore that thing's got all its batteries?" "If Sning says there's a way, there's a way." "Well, he better tell us real soon, 'cause them termites are mighty hungry!"
Indeed, the termite warriors were nudging forward in the process of deciding that the intruders were edible. The Bemme was holding them back temporarily by form -- ing pincers even larger than theirs, but Norton knew this would not fool them very long. Once the termites reached a firm conclusion, this would be no safe place!
"Is there something we can do to make it safe?" Norton asked, trying to cudgel his mind for the right questions.
Squeeze.
Aha! "As a group?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Damn! "One of us?"
Squeeze.
"To make it safe for all of us?"
Squeeze.
A warrior termite marched up more aggressively. The Bemme was balking the ones on the left, but this one was on the right. The Alicorn moved to intercept it, but it was obvious that, when the overt hostilities commenced, the termites would overwhelm them by sheer numbers. "Get a wiggle on, Nort!" Dursten murmured.
"Which one of us?" Norton asked Sning. "Me?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Dursten?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Excelsia?"
Squeeze.
The Damsel's head turned quickly. "Oh, I can not fight such monsters, sirrah!" she protested, her candle wav -- ering. "I am but a helpless feminine creature!"
Exactly. What was Sning thinking of? "Some magic she can do? Maybe a conjuration?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
This was baffling. "The way she looks?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
A third termite warrior was advancing between the ones blocked by the Bemme and the Alicom, coming disconcertingly close. Dursten stood before it, pointing his blaster. This did make the insect pause -- but for how
long?
"Something about her?" Norton asked.
Squeeze.
"Something specific?"
Squeeze.
"Uh, can you show me? Hot-cold?"
Squeeze.
Norton walked quickly to Excelsia, who stood with her delicate knuckles in her mouth, nervously watching the closest termite. He pointed his finger at her pert nose. Sning did not comment. He pointed to her heaving bosom. No reaction. Then he tried her purse -- and that was it.
In a moment they were sorting through the items in her purse. She had the usual assortment of inconsequen -- tials. The object turned out to be a little bottle of perfume.
"Perfume?" Norton asked blankly.
Squeeze, Sning replied patiently.
"You mean it destroys monsters, like holy water?"
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Repels termites?"
Squeeze,squeeze.
"Well, then, what good is it?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Excelsia's lips quirked. "It be good for wearing, belike." She opened the bottle and dabbed some behind her ears.
The nearest termite paused. It seemed confused.
Dursten snorted. "That there thing's sniffing the bot -- tle!"
"The smell!" Norton cried. "It pacifies termites?" Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"Well, it does something to them! Should we all put it on?"
Squeeze.
So they all dabbed perfume on themselves and on the Alicom, and the termites did not attack. They walked on through the warrens, and the termites ignored them.
"I get it!" Dursten said. "The smell o' the hive! We've got the dang smell o' the hive!"
It seemed that Excelsia's perfume was precisely that flavor, or had it as a component. The termites were odor -- oriented, and now regarded the intruders as other ter -- mites.
They arrived at the second chamber. This one was easy to enter; it had glass facing and resembled an executive office, the kind that allowed the boss to keep an eye on every employee without stirring from his desk.
Of course, the employees could also see in. Excelsia's candle showed the interior clearly. There were four alcoves -- but all were empty.
"An empty room?" Norton asked, dismayed.
"The jokers musta skedaddled when they heard us coming," Dursten said disgustedly.
"But the only way out is through the termite warren," Norton said. "We should have seen them."
"Unless this is another magic levitator," Excelsia sug -- gested.
Levitator? Oh -- elevator'. "If so, maybe we can use it to follow them."
They all entered and looked around. There seemed to be no control buttons, and the floor of the glassed-in chamber was that of termite-hewn rock. It did not seem to be an elevator.
Dursten poked around the first alcove. "Shore coulda been somebody standing here once," he said. "See, his footprints are right here." He stepped into the alcove, planting his space boots where indicated.
Abruptly, he stiffened. His breathing stopped, and his face was frozen in an expression of mild surprise. He had become a statue.
"It's a trap!" Norton exclaimed, horrified.
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Not a trap? But look at him! He's petrified!"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"Sning says there's something about this," Norton said to Excelsia, who was, of course, biting her knuckles in mute helplessness.
He went to stand before the petrified spaceman. "Can you hear me, Dursten?"
Dursten came alive again. "I ain't exactly him any more," he said. "You want my advice, sport?"
Norton hesitated. Had the spaceman become the exhibit? If so, care was essential. "I'm not sure. How competent is your advice?"
"Well, I reckon that's for you to find out, Nort."
What Norton really wanted to ascertain was whether he was, in fact, in a dream world that he could simply awaken from. If he was not, his "awakening" might be disastrous. A person who decided, when about to step off the brink of a cliff, that it was all a dream and didn't matter would be in trouble if wrong. But if right, he could step off the cliff and force the dream to end. Norton had to be sure. What conceivable question could he ask of a dream-figure that would settle that?
That internal question brought its answer: he needed to find someone who knew more than he did on some subject. Only that way could he be sure the answers were not coming from his own mind. For that purpose, it didn't matter whether Bat Dursten was himself or an alcove -- figure; if he could not show knowledge beyond Norton's own, he was not enough. Presumably if all four alcove -- figures manifested, and none could prove individuality, then Norton could reasonably assume he was locked in a dream of his own. How he would manage to awaken from it he didn't know; somehow, committing suicide here didn't appeal. But first he had to be sure what he was dealing with. Squeeze.
So Sning agreed! But, of course, if this were a dream, Sning himself was probably part of it, a dream-snake whose advice was suspect. Likewise the Hourglass; now he remembered how the original, adult Bern had snatched it from him. In real life that was not possible; the Hourglass had passed right through Agleh's hand. But that did not guarantee this was a dream-world; Satan could simply have arranged the illusion that the Hourglass had been snatched. Norton knew he could trust nothing until it proved to be independent of his imagination.
Merely talking with the alcove-spaceman would not do the job. Asking Dursten's name and sentiments would produce only answers that were obvious or not subject to verification. So he would have to get technical, posing the riddles that had always baffled him; the point was to get beyond his own knowledge in such a way that he remained assured the information was valid. Only through scientific logic could he do that.
Norton pondered, then addressed the spaceman. "Let me ask you a sample question before I decide." "Why, shore, pardner. Ask away!"
"There is a story about Galileo, back on my home planet. He was supposed to have climbed to the top of the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa and dropped several objects to the ground. I forget what they were, but that doesn't matter. Let's assume they were a penny, a ping -- pong ball, and a cannonball. He discovered that they all fell at the same rate, contrary to popular opinion, the small and the large. Popular wisdom had had it that larger and heavier objects would fall faster than small ones. From this experiment he deduced the theory of gravity -- that all objects in the universe attracted one another with a force directly proportional to their mass and inversely proportional to their separation from one another. Can you accept that story?"
"Well, I ain't never been to the Tower of Pizza -- "
"Any tower will do," Norton said patiently. "The point is, what about the objects falling?"
"Why, shore," the spaceman said. "That's gravity, shore 'nuff. You find it around planets and things."
Norton controlled his irritation. "What about air resis -- tance?"
"Oh, yeah, there's that. I don't mess with atmosphere so much; planets are a bother. That there ping-pong ball would fall slower in air. And so would the penny, 'cause it's flat, catches the air."
"Very well. Let's repeat the experiment on an airless planet. Absolutely no atmosphere. Now do they fall at the same rate?"
"Shore," the spaceman agreed amicably. "Weight 'n density don't matter none in a perfect vacuum. A dang feather would fall as fast as a lead shot."
"But the theory says that objects attract one another in direct proportion to their masses. Since the cannonball is more massive than the ping-pong ball, shouldn't it fall faster?"
Dursten scratched his head. "You know, I never thought o' that! I'll go try it sometime."
"Does this suggest to you that Galileo could not have performed the experiment attributed to him -- or that if he did, and got the results claimed, he would not have derived that particular theory from it?"
"Yeah, shore does, now you put it that there way."
Norton sighed inwardly. The spaceman had not been able to take it any further than Norton himself had. He had questioned the Leaning Tower story at the outset, as a child, and been sure that Galileo's experiment must have been misrepresented in some way. For example, magic could have distorted the results. None of the other chil -- dren had thought so, however, and they had ridiculed him for questioning it. Norton himself had never been quite certain whether he had a valid argument or was merely finding fault with what he did not properly understand. Had Dursten been able to offer a better explanation, he could have been accepted as an independent entity. But the spaceman knew, if anything, less than Norton himself did -- and that was no proof he was not a figment of a dream.
"Thank you. Bat. I'm afraid I must decline to accept your advice. This does not imply any criticism of -- "
"That's okay, Nort. Can I step down now?"
"By all means."
The spaceman stepped out of the alcove. "Say, that shore was funny!" he said. "For a while there I felt like I was somebody else!"
"Let me try that," Excelsia said. She stepped into the second alcove, placing her dainty feet where indicated.
She froze. "Say, she's pretty as a pitcher!" Dursten remarked appreciatively.
She was indeed, Norton reflected. Pretty as a fine por -- celain pitcher with a classic picture painted on it. He went to stand directly before her. "Hello, Excelsia."
"Oh, hello. Sir Norton," she replied, reanimating sweetly. "But I'm not exactly the Damsel at the moment."
"She shore looks like a Damsel to me!" Dursten remarked.
"I understand," Norton said.
"Will you accept my advice, 0 noble querent?"
"First may I try a sample?"
Her fair brow furrowed. "A sample of what, sirrah?"
"Of your advice, of course."
"Oh." Her brow cleared. "Certainly, Sir Norton."
"If the universe and everything in it doubled in size in an instant, would anybody notice anything different?" This was another question that had frustrated him, because his answer had differed from that of everyone else. Such differings had set him apart from his peer group, perhaps putting him on a path to self-isolation in the wilderness, where philosophy and reality were one. He believed this was another good question for the occasion.
Excelsia pondered prettily. "I don't think so," she said. "I mean, sirrah, if everything were twice as big, including the yardsticks and people, there really wouldn't be any change, would there?"
That was the standard answer. "But what about the square-cube ratio?"
"The what?" she asked, perplexed.
"The surface area of objects increases by the square, while volume increases by the cube," he explained. "If you doubled the diameter of the planet and the height of the man standing on it, his mass would multiply by a factor of eight and the mass of the planet by a similar factor, so his actual weight would be something like sixty-four times as much as before, while the cross section of his legs would be only four times as much. The burden on each square inch of his feet would be about sixteen times the prior burden -- without strengthening his flesh. He would collapse and die in short order; it would be like standing on Jupiter -- "
"Oh," she said blankly. "I've never been to Jupiter. Are you sure?"
"It's why ants aren't the size of elephants. The square -- cube ratio prevents them from achieving such great size without changing form radically."
"But the big termites -- "
Excellent point! Scientifically, those monsters were impossible! But he had the answer. "Magic changes things, of course. Without magic, those huge termites could not exist."
"Then -- with magic, the universe could double!"
Another nice point; she was certainly smarter than Dursten. But her point was flawed. "Magic is limited to planetary range. Sections of the universe are not magic;
these would perish. The laws of science, in contrast, are universal, so science is what applies here. Thus, where magic overrides science, as here, huge termites are pos -- sible, but the doubling of the universe remains impossi -- ble."
"That's for shore!" Dursten agreed. "I never had no truck with none o' that there magic."
Norton had eliminated Excelsia as an independent thinker; she, like Dursten, knew less than he did. The dream-world hypothesis, so far, was two for two. "You may step down. Damsel."
She stepped out of the alcove, seeming perfectly nor -- mal now that her interview was over. She brought out a little mirror and checked her makeup.
"Must be your turn," Norton said to the Alicom. "Want to try an alcove?"
"An Alicove!" Dursten said, chuckling. The Alicom shrugged and stepped into the third. This one turned out to be larger than it looked; there was room. He put his forehooves on the footprints and froze. "Hello, Alicorn," Norton said. "Can you speak?" The Alicom animated. Telepathically, he projected. But I am not exactly the animal at the moment. "I understand."
"I shore don't," Dursten said. "What in space is going on?"
"The Alicom is telepathic," Excelsia said. "Everyone knows that."
The spaceman was silent, embarrassed. Obviously he hadn't known -- and neither had Norton. It seemed the Alicom generally didn't bother to communicate that way to people with whom he was not tame.
Will you accept my advice?
"First I must question you."
Proceed.
"This is a scientific question. You are a magical crea -- ture. Can you handle it?"
In this guise I can.
"It is said, scientifically, that the mass of an object increases as that object is accelerated toward the velocity of light. Thus nothing can actually reach the speed of light, because its mass would become infinite."
True.
"But what, then, of light itself? Doesn't its mass become infinite -- thus preventing it from achieving its set veloc -- ity?"
Light is massless, so is not affected.
"But it bends around stars. It is affected by gravity, and gravity is the force that acts on mass. Light must have mass."
The Alicom sent no thought; he was unable to answer.
Norton dismissed him and moved to the final alcove. The Bemme entered it, settling her base on the foot -- prints. She froze.
He went through the ritual, animating her in the new office. He asked her his most difficult question: "Are you conversant with the scientific theory of relativity?"
"Naturally. We Bems grasped it long before Man did."
"Then you know that when a spaceman takes off from Earth and accelerates to a significant fraction of the veloc -- ity of light, he experiences the phenomenon of time dila -- tion. For him and his ship, time seems to slow, so that at the end of a trip of perhaps a month, he returns from the far reaches of the galaxy to discover that the folk back on Earth have aged maybe centuries and all his friends
are gone."
"Shore, any fool knows that!" Dursten put in. "Hap -- pens all the time. That's why a true spaceman's got to love 'em and leave 'em; they're old hags when he makes port again."
"Continue," the Bemme said.
"But a prime tenet of special relativity is that every -- thing is relevant; there is no absolute standard of rest. So, while from Earth the spaceman seems to be traveling at nearly lightspeed and suffering time dilation, the effect is opposite from the spaceman's view. To him. Earth is traveling at nearly light-speed and suffering the time dila -- tion. So when he rejoins Earth, he should discover that the folk on Earth have aged only a fraction as much as he has. How do you resolve this paradox?"
"There is no paradox," the Bemme said. "Though for a while each party perceives the other as functioning more slowly than itself, this is largely a matter of perspective." "Perspective? They can't both be right!" "Perspective," she repeated firmly. "If you are on one spaceship, and I am on another, and our ships drift apart in space, to each of us the other's ship will appear smaller than his own, together with the people in it. The instru -- ments of each will measure that diminution of size in the other. Each viewer is correct -- but this is perspective, not paradox."
"Say, I never thought of it that way!" Norton exclaimed. "Me neither," Dursten said.
"The human species does tend to cogitate shallowly," the Bemme agreed politely.
"Hey, watch it with them dirty words!" the spaceman said.
"But does this mean," Norton asked, wrestling with the paradox of perspective, "that when the spaceman returns to Earth, there will be no difference in their time frames? Once the distortion of perspective is eliminated?"
"No, there will indeed be a difference, though not as great as perspective made it seem. The spaceman will have aged less than the folk on Earth."
"But then the principle of relativity -- the apparent slowing of the Earth, from the spaceman's viewpoint -- "
"Perspective does not change reality," the Bemme said patiently. "Despite your planet's apparent slowing, from the spaceman's perspective, there is a distinction. He ages less."
"Now I can't accept that just on your say-so! What dis -- "
"The distinction of acceleration. The spaceman expe -- riences it; Earth does not. To each party, the other is retreating at increasing velocity, but only the spaceman feels the extra gees. This distinguishes his condition from that of Earth or the rest of the universe; his time is slowed."
"Acceleration? Why should that -- ?"
"Besides," Dursten put in, "he decelerates when he comes home, so it cancels out." He seemed to have for -- gotten which side of the issue he was on.
"There is no such thing as deceleration," the Benune said. "There is only negative acceleration, which is to say, acceleration in the opposite direction. The spaceman accelerates twice -- when he is departing from Earth and when he returns to it."
"Very well," Norton said. "So he accelerates twice. What has that to do with time?"
"Everything. It is easier to understand in the frame of general relativity, which relates to gravity. Gravity slows time, literally -- and the effects of gravity are indistin -- guishable from those of acceleration. So when the space -- man accelerates, or as Dursten so quaintly puts it, decelerates, his time slows -- regardless of the temporary effects of perspective."
"Gravity slows time?" Norton asked dully.
"Certainly. The effect reaches its extreme at the so -- called event horizon of a socalled black hole, which is a stellar object of such density and mass that gravity increases to the point at which light itself can not escape, and time slows to eternity. Thus the spaceman bold enough to travel there would become truly timeless."
"But nothing escapes from a black hole!" Norton pro -- tested. "How can we ever know what goes on there?"
"Three ways. First, we have worked it out theoreti -- cally, in the form of the general theory of relativity. Sec -- ond, we have tested it by experimenting with lesser levels of acceleration and gravity; it has been verified that the intensity of gravity does affect a clock. Third, we have explored black holes magically and recorded the effects there. In this manner, magic, far from opposing science, facilitates it."
"So there is no clock paradox?" Norton asked weakly.
"Correct," the Bemme agreed. "And, I might add, your other questions were somewhat deficient in aptness. You confused the theoretical work ofGalileo with that of New -- ton and misstated their conclusions; and as for the infinite mass of anything traveling at light-speed, you failed to take cognizance of the fact that an infinite series can have a finite total. Mass and energy are merely different aspects of the same reality; mass is merely solidified energy. So when an object accelerates toward C, or light-speed, the energy required to -- "
"Enough!" Norton cried, his mind spinning. The Bemme obviously knew more than he did, and was teaching him things he had never grasped before and could not now dismiss as nonsense. This was the mind he had been seek -- ing. "I will accept your advice."
"An excellent decision," the Bemme said, stepping out of the alcove. "What is your problem?"
"I'm stuck in this frame and I need to get back to Earth. How do I return?"
"You never left Earth," she told him. "That should have been obvious to you the moment you remembered that magic is limited to planetary scale; you can not tour the universe by magic."
"You mean I am in a dream? Then how do I wake?" "You are not in a dream. You are in an illusion fostered by the Father of Illusion. You must find a way to perceive reality with certainty; that will vanquish the illusion."
"An illusion?" Norton asked, still reeling. "Are you an -- ?"
"No. I am what I seem -- a creature alien to your planet. I needed a job, and your Figure of Evil hired me for this role."
Norton looked at the others. "And they -- ?"
"They, too, are role players -- but they don't know it. For them, the roles have become reality. This is perhaps just as well, for it prevents them from realizing they are damned."
"And you are not?"
"I am not of your socio-political-religious frame. I have no attachment to your Incamative figures of Good or Evil. I deal with them on a purely practical basis. Your dam -- nation does not relate to me. When I tire of this job, I will seek some other."
"How do I perceive reality, then?"
"That I can not tell you. I can describe reality to you in superlatively accurate detail, but only you can perceive it. As with any natural function, you must do it yourself."
Surely true! "But if I am on Earth, why do I perceive the make-believe world of the MagicLantern Cloud? I mean, now that I know -- "
"I have some difficulty grasping the irrationalities of your species," the Bemme confessed. "I presume you find some private satisfaction in the perceptions you maintain, and the Lord of Buzzbugs caters to this innate propen -- sity."
"Buzzbugs?"
"I think you call them flies. Small creatures with pretty eyes. On my planet we call them buzzbugs, because their tentacles buzz as they levitate."
The Bemme was a real font of information! Perhaps almost too much information. "Um, Sning
- do you know how I can break out?"
Squeeze.
"But I have to figure out how, so you can confirm it?"
Squeeze.
Norton sighed. He had made significant progress, but it seemed he had a long way to go yet.
He pondered a moment. "Would getting the null-psi amulet the Genius wants help me?" "No," the Bemme said, while Sning squeezed once.
Oops -- opposite signals! Which one should he trust? Well, he would ask. "Sning says the amulet would help me, but you say it wouldn't. How can I tell which of you is right?"
"We're both right," the Bemme said, and Sning squeezed once.
"But you can't be! Your answers are opposite!"
"I shall explain, since you seem to have some difficulty grasping selective aspects of truth. If you get the amulet and take it to the Genius, he will use psi to transport you back to the real world. In that sense the amulet will help you. But that process will take so long, because of the hurdles you must pass to reach and win the amulet, that by the time you return to reality, Satan will have com -- pleted his designs and your effort to balk him will be wasted. In addition, he will still be able to send you back into this illusion at will, forcing you to obtain the amulet again to get out, playing by his rules. Therefore the amulet will not help you in the way you need; it will merely give you the illusion of help. Sning is less sophisticated than I am and lacks the superior objectivity of being alien, so could only provide you with the limited immediate truth. When you ask an inadequate question, he is at a disad -- vantage."
SQUEEZE!
Norton winced; that had been a sharp constriction! He realized that he had been giving Sning trouble all along, asking wrong questions, so that the little snake had had to give hesitant yeses or noes, or throw up his nonexistent hands with triple squeezes.
"Then how can I return to reality fast enough to balk Satan?" he asked after a pause.
"Here I have the disadvantage of being alien," the Bemme said, though she did not seem perturbed about it. "/ have no problem perceiving reality, but, of course, I have better eyes than you do. I can not reach into your mind and change your perception. Because I am immune to psi, I have none myself. All I can do is give you my intelligent advice when you ask for it."
"Do you know how I can return, Sning?"
Squeeze.
There it was again; the one who could speak could not give him the answer, while the one who had the answer could not speak. Satan, if he happened to be watching this, probably found the irony delicious. If the occasion ever came for Chronos to torment Satan the way Satan had tormented him...
"Well, maybe the others can help," Norton said with -- out much hope. He turned to the group, who had been ignoring this dialogue. "Have any of you any notion how I can return to, uh. Earth quickly?"
"Why, shore, pardner," Dursten said. "Just put that there squeeze dingus on the Bemme and let 'em talk in overdrive. They're both a heap smarter'n we are."
Norton gaped. So obvious a solution! "Okay, Sning?"
Squeeze.
Norton held out his hand, and the Bemme held out a tentacle. Sning uncurled, crawled across, and curled around her appendage.
There followed a wait, while the Bemme and Sning communicated. Then she held out her tentacle, and the little snake returned to Norton.
"We must proceed to the third chamber," the Bemme said, and Sning squeezed.
"But that's the route for finding the amulet!" Norton cried. "You just told me the amulet wouldn't -- "
"It looks as if we're searching for the amulet," the Bemme explained. "That will keep the Eviler Sorceress off our tentacles until we accomplish our purpose."
Good notion! "Very well -- let's go to the third cham -- ber."
"A precaution will be necessary," the Bemme said. "You must be deprived of your senses."
"What?" Norton demanded, partly outraged, partly nervous.
"In your culture there is the narrative of your historical figure Odysseus," she said. "He wished to see and listen to the sirens, but to do so was death, for he would then throw himself into the savage sea and drown or wreck his ship with all aboard, trying to reach them. So his crewmen tied him to the mast, while they blocked their own hear -- ing. In that fashion he heard the sirens and survived. Human beings are very foolish."
"You mean I will see and hear things that will madden me?"
"And smell, taste, and feel them," the Bemme added. "The Eviler Sorceress has saved her worst for last."
"But we're outside her formal maze! Between the walls! There shouldn't be any -- "
"We are merely in another aspect of it. We never left this maze."
"Oh. But this business about -- "
"Temporary. I will cover your head, shielding you from the blandishments, allowing only oxygen to pass in. You will don Bat Dursten's space gauntlets. That will protect you from the worst of it. You will ride the Alicom, and Dursten and Excelsia will guard your flanks. That should get you through, if you heed Sning's warnings."
"But if it's that dangerous, what about the rest of you?"
"We are all role players, here to facilitate your diver -- sion. You are the target; the effects will not affect us."
"This is the way it has to be, Sning?"
Squeeze.
Sning and the Bemme had certainly worked it out in that brief interval of private dialogue!
The Bemme assumed the form of a hood, which Norton put over his head. He was afraid it would feel suffocating,
but she was true to her word: there was pure, sweet oxy -- gen inside.
He donned the gauntlets, which were designed to pro -- tect hands from interstellar vacuum, and mounted the Alicom with a boost from someone. He felt like a con -- demned criminal being hauled to the gallows.
The Alicom moved. For a few paces everything was routine. Norton was aware only of motion, for no sound, light, or smell penetrated the living hood. Then the atmo -- sphere changed.
First, something seemed to touch his gauntleted hands. It was the merest hint, filtered through the impermeable material, yet it suggested the sleek body of a beautiful and vibrant woman or the controls of a finely machined, high-performance racing car. He wanted to get a better feel, so he started to draw off one gauntlet.
Squeeze, squeeze!
Oh. The temptation of Odysseus was upon him! For the first time in his life Norton experienced some sym -- pathy for the ancient Greek warrior. But he left the gloves alone.
Then something brushed about his head. It was a hint of perfumed music, ineffably sweet, as of a lovely garden glade with flowers blooming and a damsel with a dulci -- mer -- the kind of place he longed to enter and remain in. But he could not perceive it clearly through the hood. So he reached up to pull it off -
SQUEEZE! SQUEEZE!
Damn! He had to desist, but he was furious at what he was giving up. That garden of delights -
The beast moved on -- and somehow Norton felt the presence of a book or wise man or computer terminal containing the answers to all the most perplexing and fascinating riddles of the universe. All the myriad little mysteries that had nagged at him, from the punch line to a joke others had found uproarious and he had not quite heard, to the nature of Ultimate Reality. He had to see that book! He -
SQUEEZE! SQUEEZE!
"The hell with you!" he snapped, wrenching at the hood.
Something fettered his arms, so he could not pull, and the hood clenched itself stiflingly close about his head. He heaved off the encumbrances and grabbed the hood with both hands. It stretched like taffy, but did not come off. He clawed at it in a frenzy, but his gauntlets made him clumsy. Feverishly he tore them off.
The Alicorn leaped, almost dislodging him. He had to grab for the mane for support. That delayed his attack on the hood, and in a moment the desire waned.
Now the hood relaxed. It slid away from his face, coursed down to the ground, and reformed into the Bemme.
"We made it!" Dursten said. "But you shore fought that there hood, Nort, like you was suffocating!"
Norton's head cleared. "If that was the filtered siren song, I never would have made it through the unfutered one! Even now, I'd like to go back and -- "
Squeeze, squeeze.
"Shux, Nort, it's just quicksand and maggots there," Dursten said. "You'd just sink in over your head."
"I can't believe that! That beautiful music -- "
"Here, I'll show you. Bemme, make like a danged floodlight."
The Bemme convoluted into a floodlight mounted on a stand. The spaceman flicked the switch to ON and the beam of light speared out, striking a distant wall. Dursten swiveled the beam down to the ground where the tracks of the Alicorn showed.
A hundred feet back, those traces disappeared into a monstrous roiling bog. Tiny highlights of white showed, wriggling in and out of the muck -- the maggots.
"We had to walk right through that. Ugh!" Excelsia said, wrinkling her nose. "Fortunately, the Alicorn was able to pick the shallowest point to cross. He couldn't fly, because we had to stay close enough to stop you from taking off the hood. One misstep, and we all would have been drowned in it."
Now Norton saw the caked, maggoty mud on their legs and shoes. They had done it, all right. Excelsia and the Alicorn especially had made a sacrifice, for otherwise they could have flown over the muck. "Thank you, friends!" he said humbly.
"We're not really your friends," the Bemme murmured. "We are simply playing our assigned roles."
"Maybe you are," Norton replied. "But they don't real -- ize they are playing roles, you said. So they're as good friends as any other kind, aren't they?"
"I stand corrected," the alien agreed. "It is a human nuance of interpretation."
Norton turned to face the other way. There was the third chamber; a door in a wall was marked: 3-D CHAMBER. "Well, let's go in."
"This you must do alone," the Bemme said, returning to her natural bug-eyed state. She had spoken before from a speaker grille in the floodlight. "Our perceptions are not precisely yours. Even Sning's are not yours, though he understands what you perceive. You must align your per -- ception of reality yourself by your own effort; only then will you be in control. We wish you well."
"Shore do," Dursten said.
"If you succeed," Excelsia said, "promise you will
return at least to say good-bye." There was a delicate tear in her eye.
"I will," Norton agreed. He put his hand on the knob and turned it. The round door opened in the old-fashioned way, swiveling out on hinges. Beyond the circular port that was revealed was only blackness.
He stepped through -- and found himself suspended in deep space as the door swung closed behind him. Its closure cut off Excelsia's candlelight; with the darkness, the stars shone all around with preternatural clarity, and the ribbon of the Milky Way wound its snaky course in a great circle. To the rear, where the door had been, the sun blazed -- but somehow it did not wipe out the other stars. He could see everything in a way never before possible.
"What do I do now?" he asked, noting that his cloak had spread out to protect him from the vacuum and radia -- tion of deep space. It didn't seem to matter whether he was in reality or illusion; he was comfortable.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Oh, yes -- he had to figure it out for himself. "But I am safe here, whatever I do?"
Squeeze.
What he had to do was align his perception to reality. Evidently this chamber provided the mechanism, if only he could figure out how to use it.
Well, this was the naked universe. He was Chronos. He could take a better look at it, traveling in time. Since he knew he would have to travel far to see any significant change, he willed the Hourglass to virtually maximum effect, turning the sand to its most intense red. "Forward in time -- to the end of the universe!" he proclaimed grandly. "Sning, give me a squeeze when each billion years passes, just so I know."
He started off. The location-spell remained on, so he remained where he was in the galaxy
- but it changed about him. Individual stars waxed and waned, some becoming brighter, some dimmer, and their constellations distorted into unrecognizability. New constellations formed, flexed, and dissolved. He knew it was all in his perspective, as stars shifted positions relative to his loca
- tion, but it did make for an effect of almost-living ani -- mation.
Every so often there were supernovas, flashing with phenomenal brilliance and vanishing. He realized that his accelerated time travel made them as brief to him as the flashes of flashbulbs, but still they were bright in passing! He began to perceive a pattern to the changing positions of the more stable stars, patches of stars, and clouds of gas and dust. The galaxy was rotating, turning more rap -- idly in the center than at the edge, as if stirred by a cosmic spoon. Once he realized that, his perception became truly three-dimensional, and he saw himself as part of the giant, viscous mix of material. The galaxy had seemed station -- ary when he had been fixed in time; now he saw it as a porridge of stars and dust. In fact, the dust was stretched out in great spirals, moving outward from the center, and at the fringes of those bands of dust the stars were thickest and brightest, for the dust was their raw material. Stars did not form from mere contractions of gas amidst vac -- uum; they were squeezed into life by the tidal fluxes of the galaxy itself, like eddy whorls against the shifting dust. Squeeze.
Oh, yes -- a billion years had passed! Entranced, he continued to watch. Having analyzed the pattern of the great rotating galactic disk, he was now able to perceive the broader universe beyond, the neighboring galaxies, moving and spinning in their own courses and gradually drawing together. Stars kept moving in on their dust banks and disappearing into them, while the bands themselves snaked out toward the extremes. The galactic centers grew brighter.
Squeeze.
Another billion years already! He was still accelerating in time, but also becoming more absorbed by the wonder of the universe about him, so that time seemed to pass faster, anyway. Objective, subjective -- what was the truer definition of time? Fascinated by the moving panorama of space, Norton began to trace the patterns of whole galactic clusters. His perspective kept expanding as he came to understand the more fundamental motions of the universe.
Squeeze.
Now it was easier to see how the galaxies were all converging on a single region of space, like shining pin -- wheels rolling in to a rendezvous. And the galaxies them -- selves were changing as they went, their centers becoming brighter despite the flow of dust and stars out from them.
Squeeze.
After that he pretty much ignored the squeeze markers, for they were coming faster as his sphere of awareness expanded. It almost seemed as if the universe were shrink -- ing.
Suddenly a band of dust and gas passed across his region, momentarily blotting out his vision. When it passed, the sun was gone. Startled, he cast about for it; he had tuned it out in his effort to perceive the patterns of motion of the farther galactic clusters. It was definitely gone.
Well, how many billions of years had passed now? Six, eight? Mankind would not feel the loss! He let the sun go with momentary regret and refocused on the universe at large, which was really more interesting.
It was definitely shrinking. He verified this by fixing his attention on one particular spot and gauging the con -- traction of galactic groups around it. His perception seemed to have accommodated the enormous distances separating galaxies, so that he could know where they were even though, theoretically, it took billions of years for the light of the farthest ones to reach him. Perhaps this was because he himself was traveling rapidly in time; he didn't have to wait on the normal speed of light. Or maybe it was simply another facet of the magic of the Hourglass.
Shrinking? How could that be? The universe was sup -- posed to be expanding!
Yet as the billions of years squeezed by, ten, eleven, twelve, he became certain; the universe was indeed con -- tracting. It became small enough for him to see com -- pletely, then smaller yet. Dismayed and enthralled, he watched it form into a giant globe perhaps four billion light-years across. The galaxies were becoming quasars, with hugely radiating centers and tenuous umbras of dust and gas, and these dissolved into formless waves, much as the individual stars had dissolved into the dust clouds before. The universe became a great ball of gases and energy that then compressed into a mass of plasma less than a billion light-years in diameter, a super-duper nova.
It shrank into the size of a single quasar, then, so rap -- idly it was an eyeblink, into the size of a single planet, and disappeared.
Norton stared at the distant point of nothingness. If this was to be the way the universe ended, winking out in fifteen billion years or so, how did that differ from the manner in which it had begun? Perplexed, Norton reversed directions, turning the sand its most intense blue, and willed himself back in time.
The universe reversed. The ball of plasma reappeared from nothing, expanding ferociously. He was unable to distinguish energy radiation from matter; they were inex -- tricably mixed. Now Norton noticed some things he had missed before. In this version, a great deal of energy seemed to be forming from nothing, even as the expansion occurred, so that, though the ball was exploding at light -- speed, the universe itself was multiplying much faster than that. It was as if a shock wave were traveling out ahead of the light, triggering the condensation of energy from whatever unknowable recess it had hidden in. But, of course, he was traveling backward in time now, which meant that that energy had actually converted into nothing before the remainder squeezed into the singularity of the black hole and winked out entirely.
How could that be? He had understood that matter and energy were fairly permanent, and here they were dis -- existing freely. In the ripples of energy as he now per -- ceived them, matter coalesced, as if light were being bent around so tightly that it rolled up against itself and formed tiny balls of energy that developed a certain stability of their own. But when two balls touched each other, one of them spinning in one direction, the other in another, they burst like soap bubbles and vanished in total energy. Thus the forming matter was promptly destroying itself, renewing the explosion, generating more turbulence and eddies that spun out more bits of matter. Except that in actuality, he reminded himself again, it was the other way around; energy was forming matter implosively, and the implosive condensation then unwrapped to form new beams of energy that arrowed in toward the final extinc -- tion of singularity, of nonexistence. This was nonsense!
He continued to watch as billions of years squeezed back. The turbulence of the explosion imparted a slight rotation, and this spin caused the majority of the lightballs to curl up in one direction, so that soon all of the opposite -- spinning balls were eliminated by cancellation and matter stopped destroying itself. The remaining matter coalesced into dusty masses, still rushing outward from the common center. The masses had their own rotations and formed into crude disks that solidified in the centers, compressing until the pressure was so great that ignition occurred, and suddenly they were quasars. Still the centers intensified, until they became black holes that expanded, swallowing much of the brilliance and sucking additional matter in long spiral trails. Now they were galaxies, structured as spiraling fodder for their central appetites. There was no hunger in the universe like that of a black hole!
Except, again, that this was backward. How could a black hole spew out matter continuously like that, until it disappeared? That simply was not the nature of such things! A black hole, with certain very limited exceptions, was strictly a one-way affair. What went in did not come out. Except, the Bemme had said, in the case of magic. And the force of magic did not reach out on galactic scale;
it was confined to the radius of a typical planet, like Earth. Everyone knew that. That was why they used matter transmitters for interplanetary travel. Even ghosts had to use such modern conveniences, as Gawain had. Had the Bemme told him wrong?
This bothered him. If the alien had lied or been in error, he, Norton, had placed his trust in the wrong entity. He was reluctant to believe that, partly because he liked the Bemme and partly because that would leave him back on circle one. How, then, could he rationalize her statement about magic and black holes?
Aha! Black holes come in all sizes, from supergalactic to pinhead. A pinhead black hole could be used for exper -- imental purpose, even moved about, provided one did not do anything foolish like poking a finger at it. The better laboratories had pinholes. Certainly it was possible to test magic on a hole. So the Bemme had not been refuted. That was a relief, and he could proceed with his current tour.
How could a black hole be reversed? Answer: not this way! Theoretically, a black hole could become overheated so that it exploded, but it could not pay out material a bit at a time. So either what he was seeing was wrong, or -
Or he was, in fact, seeing it backward.
He looked at the Hourglass. The sand was intense blue. He was supposed to be traveling backward, from normal future to normal past -- but was he?
Then he had another revelation. Satan was the Father of Lies and the Master of Illusion; why couldn't he craft an illusion that changed the colors of the sand of the Hourglass? Obvious answer: he could -- and he would! That would be far, far easier than creating a whole world that ran backward. That explained how Norton was able to relate one-to-one with the role players here -- they were living forward, while he was living backward -- for him.
He remembered how the sand of the Hourglass had shown green upon his return from a prior visit -- the color of universal time. He had not set it there -- not con -- sciously: Obviously he had set it there -- thinking the color was white, his normal backward course. Satan had tricked him into supposing green was white and red was blue. Black and yellow seemed to have been left alone; that change would have been too obvious. If he had gone to black to freeze time, and found himself careering through space instead, he would have known something was wrong. So only the directions of time had been changed -- the normal and accelerated modes. Very neatly done; it had certainly fooled him. Each visit to the "contraterrene" frame must, in fact, have been a reversal of time he had just spent on Earth. Satan had had to free him before he overlapped a prior reversal and ran afoul of the three -- person limit.
How long did he have this time? He wasn't sure,
because he had been operating in the drawkcab mode, undoing Satan's damage of eight years in the past. He had been about six hours between the departure of Satan's minion horn-demon and the onset of his effort to neu -- tralize that minion; did these periods cancel out or add on, in the present? Evidently the latter, since he lived subjectively through both of them. But didn't some of that time already overlap his adventure with Excelsia and the Alicom and the Sword Elf? He wasn't sure how to figure it, but suspected that Satan had made sure to allow enough time for this present diversion so that Norton would arrive back on Earth too late to foil his mischief. Probably if he got the null-psi amulet and took it to the Genius, the Genius would agree to transport him back to Earth just as his allotted time was up, anyway. What a conniving rogue was Satan!
Now he was zooming along the temporal length of the universe and knew that his perception of the sand of the Hourglass was wrong. Yet nothing had changed. How could he cancel the illusion?
Probably he had to be absolutely certain he was right, for uncertainty was the grist for exploitation by Satan. At the moment, he was not at all certain. He had figured out a theory to account for the discrepancies he had noted, but a theory was not a fact. He needed solid corroborative data.
Well, what in the universe was more solid than the universe itself? Suppose he explored it to the very end of time and satisfied himself that he knew its directions in time -- shouldn't that be enough for certainty? If it wasn't, what was?
If he could not believe in the universe, he could not believe in anything. This chamber might be part of an illusion, but he suspected it was also a window to reality. He would travel to the end of the universe he saw here, seeking certainty.
He willed the sand to turn an even more intense blue, knowing that was reverse in color but correct in thrust. The universe accelerated, and Sning's squeezes came more and more rapidly, until the billions of years were passing in seconds and Sning became more of a shudder than a series of squeezes. The universe flew apart at an awesome rate, the galaxies separating so rapidly they appeared blurred. Soon the local section of space was clear. In a sphere ten billion lightyears across, there was no longer any matter at all, and very little energy. The hole in the torus.
Norton turned his attention to the retreating outer fringe. Again he was able to adapt, to spread his awareness to perceive objects on a vaster scale than any human being had perceived them before. The torus of galactic motes was now a hundred billion light-years out, and still expanding. This was an open universe, seemingly without end.
But those galaxies were still evolving themselves, get -- ting consumed by their blackhole centers. The process was slow while the available free matter diminished, but it continued. In due course the ring of galaxies became a ring of black holes, each spaced a hundred billion light -- years or more from its nearest neighbor. The holes were detectable only by their declining halos of radiation, and even that was doomed. Finally nothing was visible; Nor -- ton knew their paths only by inference. A trillion light -- years out, and still the torus expanded, for there was nothing to stop it. Would it ever end?
Then something happened. In the far, far, far distance he perceived a detonation. It was another Big Bang, the explosion of a monstrous black hole. A new universe was forming!
He realized that this Bang had occurred directly in the path of one of the local universe's far-flung holes. They had collided and overheated and burst apart. New energy and matter were generating in the region of this flux, as they had done so before.
He also realized that, just as some holes were pinhead size, so were some universe size. They were scattered through space (though space did not really exist in the absence of matter or energy -- a quibble), rendered ever larger by the accumulation of stray radiation and dust and the debris from other worn-out universes, perhaps billions of such toruses. On occasion, a swiftly traveling galactic hole would collide with such a universe hole, like a neu -- tron plowing into the nucleus of a uranium atom, and the impact would shatter both holes and cause the most mas -- sive possible explosion, augmented by the stress of space itself. In this manner were new universes born, his own included.
He continued to work it out as he watched the distant universe expand. Obviously not all galaxies became neu -- trons, and not all neutrons would strike larger holes head -- on with sufficient force to shatter them. Most would be captured in orbit about the larger holes and eventually swallowed peacefully. Thus the masses of larger holes would steadily increase as their number diminished. Per -- haps there was a critical mass, beyond which a hole became unstable, ready to be detonated. Thus the detonation of new universes would be a regular thing, occurring every trillion years or less, each expiring in a grand flash of a few tens of billions of years before its black-hole ashes were absorbed by still-accumulating universes. Perhaps new universes were flowering continuously, scattered over such a wide region that no entity could perceive more than one at a time, not even Chronos. Surely his own universe had developed in that fashion, not remarkable at all, just a single brief spark in eternity.
All it took was a little matter and antimatter -- that was why the secondary explosions occurred around a new universe, because of the dexter and sinister curls of matter formation -- and time. Time.
And he was Chronos, the Incarnation of Time. The one entity permitted to grasp the true nature of reality.
Norton shook his head. "Satan, compared to this truth, your lies are of no consequence!"
It was time to return to his own tiny portion of his particular spark. He brought out the Hourglass and focused on its flowing sand. He was still traveling forward, and the sand was still blue -- but as he looked at that lie, the color changed to red and he saw truly at last. He had penetrated Satan's illusion and knew that he would never again be vulnerable to it.
He willed the sand blue again, this time to true blue, and the progress of time reversed. The distant universe began to contract. He wondered idly whether it had sapi -- ent creatures within it, living, loving, warring, and dream -- ing, performing minor exploits of science and magic, and whether any part of his long-gone physical body was incorporated into it, on the off chance that his own Milky Way Galaxy happened to be the neutron hole that had triggered this new effort. Perhaps a quark or two of him was there! "Good luck, you who follow us!" he cried.
Then that universe contracted back to its origin, and the hole from his own universe was ejected from it. It -- and he -- was on its way home.
-- 13
MARS
Sning advised him when he arrived at his own time. He set the sand on green and reached for the sun. His hand caught a sunspot, and the sun clicked and swung outward, showing the walls beyond. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Dursten, Excelsia, the Alicom, and the Bemme were there, watching him. They looked the same, but their surroundings did not. The walls were props, painted and buttressed, and outside the immediate stage area the par -- aphernalia of the set were visible.
He beckoned the Bemme, and she slid forward for a private dialogue. "I have penetrated the illusion," he told her. "Do the others know?"
"No."
"Would it be kind to tell them my version of reality?"
"No."
"May I visit any of you again, after this?"
"Since you live opposite to us in time, such opportunity is limited. We have to be briefed for each new act, because you return before we experience the last one. Soon we shall be beyond the time of your accession to office, and you will be able to visit us only discamately."
Norton found himself mildly shaken. Of course they could not have experienced his three visits in the same order he had! So they would proceed next to his Alicom adventure, and finally to the space adventure, never tell -- ing him. Truly, he did not belong here! "Then I will bid appropriate farewell now," he decided. "I thank you, Bemme, for your invaluable advice."
"I only play my role according to the rules," she said. "You played and won when you had the wit to select me for advice and to fathom truth in the third chamber."
"All the same, I would like to call you friend."
"Friend," she agreed. "I do not have many of those among your kind. I understand you will do me a favor."
"Favor?"
"In the third act. Saving me from destruction by the spaceman. My briefing suggests something of the sort."
"Oh. Yes," Norton agreed awkwardly, remembering how he had talked Dursten into adopting the orphan. But he also remembered the cause of the Bemme's orphaning and winced. It was all a play, yet..."I wish I could take you away from this."
"You do have that power, Chronos. But that would be pointless, for my service to you is finished from your perspective, and, if I departed this frame, who would take care of Dursten? When the occasion is appropriate, I will depart of my own accord,"
She made uncompromising sense. "Good-bye, then, friend," he said sadly, shaking her tentacle.
He turned to Dursten. "Bat, I have found the way back to my planet of Earth. I thank you for risking your gallant life to help me, and wish you every success here."
"Shux, '(weren't nothing," the spaceman said, abashed in his handsome, rough-hewn, manly way. His eyes flicked toward the woman. "You ain't coming back?"
In a sense he was, since his space scene was in Dur -- sten's future. But that wasn't the essence. "I'm not com -- ing back," Norton agreed. "I'm trusting you to keep an eye on Excelsia."
"Shore will!" Dursten said enthusiastically.
Norton turned to the Alicom. "Thank you for carrying me those two times," he said. "Without that help, I couldn't have made it through."
The Alicorn snorted, swished his tail, and fluttered his wings, embarrassed. Then he nuzzled Norton's ear with his velvety-soft nose. Trot well, good man!
Now it was Excelsia's turn. Norton took her in his arms and kissed her. She was a bit like Heaven itself, though her destiny lay closer to Hell; but, as with Orlene and Agleh, he knew he could not continue with her.
The Damsel smiled through her tears as they separated. That was all; she understood.
Then he turned and walked along the wall until he came to the edge of the prop. He circled it and found himself in a motion-picture studio, with cameras, workmen, a director, and a general atmosphere of rushed chaos.
An attractive, mature woman approached him. "You were a fine star, Chronos," she said. "I am only sorry the play did not reach its climactic scene."
"The confrontation with -- ?"
"The Eviler Sorceress," she said. "Yours Truly. I was to seduce you and strip you of your magic ring so you could not escape my clutches. I'm not sure the latter would have been successful, but the former would have been intriguing."
Indeed it might have been, for she had a figure very like his Hourglass and was obviously an experienced star. "Better luck with the next leading man," he said.
"It's hardly luck," she breathed. "It's magic."
He moved on past the personnel and props, finding the exit. When he left the building, he turned back to read the sign above it: SATANIC STUDIOS. Yes, that was what he had thought.
This was Hollywood, of course, where Satan could field excellent actors and facilities and be able to operate freely without interference. Probably there were some pretty good motion pictures released under the Satanic imprint, for he was certainly adept at invention. It had been quite an experience, and the Father of Lies' exper -- tise was impressive, but now Norton had broken free of the deception and would be able to balk whatever plot the Prince of Evil had brewing.
He turned the sand of the Hourglass yellow and trav -- eled spatially to his mansion in Purgatory. What a relief to be home!
But he couldn't rest yet; he had to find out what the Father of Lies was up to, which made the absence of Chronos so important. "Summon Lachesis," he told the butler. "I'd like to talk to her at her earliest convenience." He noted that the mansion clock showed him to be back at the time he had started the third antimatter adventure;
the three-person limitation had prevented him from living those hours a third time and slid him smoothly past them.
"Immediately, sir," the butler said.
Indeed, a spider was swinging down along a thread when he entered the sitting room. She expanded and formed into Lachesis as Norton sat in his easy chair. "Something special on your mind, Chronos?" she asked.
"I've been away a few hours," he told her. "I under -- stand Satan is planning something, and I hurried back to balk his mischief. Do you know what it is?"
She glanced at him with evident perplexity. "Why should Satan do anything to disturb the status quo?"
"Are you teasing me? He wants to win political power on Earth!"
"But he already has the inside track on that. All he needs to do is wait."
"He has it? When did he get it?"
"Sometimes it is difficult for me to untangle my skein enough to isolate significant threads. But the key is polit -- ical. In about two years there will be a crucial vote in Congress
-- and though it will be close, it seems Satan has the votes to prevail. From then on, things will go his way, and there is nothing we can do that won't simply make the situation worse. Satan knows that, which is why he isn't worried."
"But what about Luna? She won't support him,
and -- "
"Who?"
"Luna. Senator Kaftan. Thanatos' woman."
"Oh, her. I had forgotten her name. Yes, that woman does keep company with Thanatos, but she's no Senator. She runs a magic shop in Kilvarough."
Norton stared at her. "Not a Senator?"
"Never was. Never held any political office at all. Are you sure you have the right name?"
Norton realized that something was seriously amiss. "I must have misremembered. I'm sorry I bothered you for nothing."
She smiled and became Clotho, in a revealing gown. "You don't need to use a pretext, Chronos. I understand your situation."
Oops. "This time it was an honest confusion. Let's postpone it for a few hours. I have an errand of business I must attend to first."
"Business before pleasure," she agreed. "I have a backlog of my own, and no excuse now not to get to it." She shifted back to arachnid form, ascended her thread, and vanished.
Luna not a Senator! Satan must have struck -- but how could he have done this without the aid of Chronos?
He traveled to Kilvarough and knocked on Luna's door. The two griffins ignored him; it seemed he would be here often enough in his future, so they knew him.
Luna was home, and looked pretty much as he remem -- bered her. "Why, welcome, Chronos!" she exclaimed. "Thanatos isn't here at the moment -- "
"I don't want to intrude, but I must verify some -- thing -- "
"By all means. Come in."
Inside, he asked her point-blank: "When did you leave political office?"
Her brow furrowed. "I never held political office, Chronos. You know that."
"You forget I live backward, when not deliberately phasing in to your frame, as now." He indicated the green sand. "I do not know your past."
She considered. "Well, I did run for office eighteen years ago. But a tremendous campaign of vilification was waged against me, so that I lost, and I have never cared to repeat the experience. That was my closest approach to office."
Eighteen years ago! "Luna, I know this will sound strange to you, but not long ago I knew you as a Senator destined to balk Satan's major ploy for political power on Earth. Can you believe that?"
"Naturally," she said. "See, the Truthstones support you." She gestured at small gems on the mantel, which were glowing pleasantly. "But I assure you, this is not my reality."
"Reality seems to have changed," he said. "Satan must have done it. If only I could figure out how!"
"Satan was surely behind the campaign against me," she agreed. "But that was so long ago, and he has ignored me since."
"He must have sent another minion back in time to set things up. But how, without my cooperation?"
"You mean that if he had not done so, I might have won that election and commenced a political career?"
"I mean exactly that! You would today be a prominent Senator. And somehow I must restore that career to you, for the sake of humanity! But first I must figure out how he did it. Then I can act to cancel his ploy."
Luna went to a cupboard and fetched another stone. "Perhaps I can help. This is an evildetector, very sen -- sitive to the presence of the artifacts of Satan." She brought it near him, and it flickered. "There has been evil near you recently, or it will be near you soon, but it is not present now."
"I was in Satan's environment in your near future -- "
"No, this is a specific thing you carried with you, close to your body." She moved the stone. It flickered more brightly near his folded Hourglass.
He opened out the Hourglass again so she could inspect it -- and the stone flickered more brightly yet. "There was a demon associated with this," she said. "Or will be. It seems to have hidden in the base for a while."
The illusion of color change -- a demon had been there, doing it! Naturally Satan had not been able to follow him on his tour of eternity; Norton had to have carried a minion there. And he had never noticed! "It -- must have had a spell of invisibility," he said, appalled. "So that I took it whenever I went -- and I went the full length of time itself!"
"That would seem to cover the situation," she agreed. "Satan's demons can be very small, like pinheads. There could have been a dozen or a hundred here -- and some dropped off at a selected spot in prior time, while others remained to preserve the spell."
"That must have been it," he acknowledged ruefully. "I finally abolished the spell in the farthest future -- but I did travel backward in time first. Satan tricked me again!"
"He is the master of guile," she pointed out.
"So he managed to drop at least one demon off to give the demons of that time the word -- they do cooperate with one another -- and they destroyed your chance to get elected. I'll have to go back and intercept -- "
"There could have been a dozen demons dropped off there," she reminded him gently. "If you have intercepted one of Satan's minions before and neutralized it, I'm sure he would be more careful on his next attempt. You could never intercept them all -- not with the three-person limit. Some would get through."
"You're probably right," he said glumly. "But I can't just let him win!"
"Perhaps Thanatos can advise you better than I can," she suggested. "Or one of the other Incarnations. Lach -- esis is wise in the ways of -- "
"I've already talked to her. The other Incarnations have been affected by the new reality; only I am aware of the change."
"And Satan," she said. "He surely knows the nature of his mischief."
"Yes. He surely does, damn him!"
"Have you talked to Mars?"
"Mars, the Incarnation of War? No, I haven't met him."
"It occurs to me we are at war -- and war is what Mars best understands."
Norton smiled grimly. "Good point, Luna. I will seek him out. Only -- " He hesitated. "I don't know how."
She smiled. "Here is a stone attuned to him. It will glow as you approach, and fade as you move away from him. Take it and use it, Chronos."
He accepted the stone. "You are a very helpful woman, Luna."
Again she smiled, and the moonstone she wore at her neck glowed. "So Thanatos informs me." She was about Norton's own age or a little older, beyond the joy of youth, but her features were finely structured and she was a handsome person with excellent poise. She credited her magic stones with providing her an understanding of his situation, an understanding no other person in this reality would have had, but it was more than that. She was a woman of special qualities, experience, and tact. The sort of woman that he, Norton, would have liked to build a relationship with -- that perhaps Orlene would have become at this age. The sort that he, Norton, could never have a continuing relationship with.
Once again he felt the burden of his office. How little he had understood the subtle sacrifice of Incarnation! But he could not afford self-pity at the moment; he had a job to do. "Thank you, Luna; I hope Mars can help."
He walked in a circle, watching the stone. When he had determined the direction of brightest glow, he turned the sand yellow. "Farewell!"
She waved, and he was off. He zoomed across the face of the Earth, through buildings and mountains as if they were illusions, becoming more skilled in spatial motion, zeroing in on the Incarnation of War.
He found Mars on a battlefield in mountainous terrain somewhere on the Eurasian continent. Norton hadn't kept track of the landmarks, and the location really didn't mat -- ter; he just wanted to talk to the Incarnation.
Tanks were charging a mountain retreat that seemed to be guarded by Oriental dragons. Science against magic -- and the two were surprisingly similar. The dragons spurted fire -- but so did the flamethrowers of the tanks. There were airplanes, too -- but flying dragons were meeting them. The sides seemed even.
Mars was perched on a ledge, watching with detached interest. He was a small man, dressed in faded fatigues. Norton was surprised; he had somehow anticipated a robust giant in Roman-style armor.
Norton phased in beside Mars. "If you have a mo -- ment -- "
The man looked around. "Oh, hello, Chronos. I always have a moment for you, you know that. What's up?"
"Urn, from my view, this is our first meeting."
"Oh, sure, you live backward. I didn't realize this was your beginning." He put out his right hand, and Norton took it. "I'm Mars, Incarnation of War. You're Chronos, Incarnation of Time. We have a long and benevolent asso -- ciation, with mutual respect, ever since you helped this stutterer get started."
Stutterer? Mars wasn't stuttering now! "I -- "
"I don't suppose you want to hear my rationale for war as a necessary cauterization of society and stimulus to progress, so I'll spare you that this time. If you're ill at ease, don't be; we're old friends."
"That's nice to know," Norton said awkwardly.. "I really haven't gotten the whole hang of living backward yet, though at least the other Incarnations seem to under -- stand."
"Yeah, I guess it's hell on romance; when you're com -- ing, she's going."
Aptly if unkindly put! "I think I need your advice, if you have the time."
Mars squinted at the tanks and dragons. "You have the time, no pun; you can freeze the world and leave just the two of us to talk. But this is a minor and inconclusive operation. Pointless, really -- but where there's battle, I have to supervise. You know how it is. Spill the beans."
"Uh, yes." And Norton, somewhat haltingly, explained the situation. "So Luna thought you might have a better insight, since this is a war with Satan," he concluded.
Mars nodded. "I have fought Satan myself, and I fear his deviousness prevailed. I am well aware how formi -- dable an opponent he is. I can't tell you how to reverse what he has done, for this is not my MOS, but -- "
"MOS?"
"Military-Occupation-Specialty. But I can suggest broad principles of battle strategy that may apply."
Norton had hoped for something more specific, but took this in stride. "Maybe that will help."
"First you have to analyze the patterns of strength -- yours and the enemy's. That way you can arrange to attack his weak flank with your strongest force. Force is vitally important and must be understood in detail."
"Force," Norton agreed without much enthusiasm.
"Force," Mars repeated emphatically. He gestured toward the indecisive battle. "See how those fools are opposing force with similar force? They're slaughtering each other and destroying equipment and animals point -- lessly. If either side had approached the issue with proper professionalism -- " He shook his head sadly. "I hate to see things bungled by amateurs. War is too important for bungling! Now you -- you are up against a real profes -- sional, the ultimate Master of Deceit, who has already won the battle. It is your task to reverse the outcome after the fact -- and that is a considerable challenge."
"Amen!" Norton agreed.
"But you are by no means powerless. You must use what you have -- and you have the single most potent tool that exists."
"But -- "
"You doubt? Watch." Suddenly a monstrous sword was in Mars' hand. He swung it at Norton. Norton, without thinking, blocked it with the Hourglass.
The blade rebounded. Undismayed, Mars put it away. "To others, your instrument is without substance, but my Sword represents the essence of war and can not be blunted or avoided. Therefore the two instruments meet and balk each other; neither can hurt the other. Force against force, pointlessly. But, properly applied, my Sword is match -- less -- as is your Hourglass. Not even Satan can stand against these tools, or against the Scythe of Thanatos or the Threads of Fate or the Will of Gaea -- if they attack his weaknesses. Only by guile did he nullify my effort to balk his plot to assume political power on Earth, and only by guile did he foil you."
"True. But -- "
"You talk too much, Chronos," Mars said with a smile. He produced a clipboard and pen and began marking the sheet of paper. "Now, we know there are only five intrin -- sic forces in our reality. Let's list them in nominal order of strength." He printed: NUCLEAR STRONG, ELECTRO -- MAGNETIC, NUCLEAR WEAK, GRAVITY, MAGIC. "If yOU Set
the first at unity for convenience, or 10#, the others are 10-3, 10-5, 10-38, and 10 -- ."
"Now, wait!" Norton protested. "The whole universe is dominated by gravity; it is the single most compelling factor in the evolution of matter! How can it be rated so weak in comparison with the others? And magic -- "
Mars smiled, as if a feint had been effective. "That does seem odd, doesn't it! But sometimes the last shall be first, and the meek do inherit the Earth. Range is the key. The strong nuclear force has a range of about the diameter of a neutron. If another neutron were just one millimeter distant, it would never feel that force, any more than your Hourglass would feel the impact of my Sword if it were just out of range of my swing. That force binds our most basic substance together, and is indeed essential to the integrity of matter, but on our macroscopic scale we don't even feel it. The weak nuclear force is even more limited, having a range only onehundredth as far. Yet the disruption of these forces leads to nuclear explo -- sions or lethal radiation. They are potent in their proper applications. Electromagnetic force falls in between the strong and the weak nuclear forces in power -- but its range is infinite, so we can experience it on our scale. Indeed, we use it for our vision, radio, electricity, mag -- netism -- our civilization would collapse without it."
He gestured toward the ongoing battle. "The motors of those tanks utilize magnetism for their power, for exam -- ple. But it has one critical limitation: it acts as a force only on charged particles. The most potent magnetic field has no direct effect on wood or human flesh. So mag -- netism is limited though infinite. Gravity, in contrast, not only has infinite range, it is accumulative and acts on all matter. So, despite its low rating -- and 10-38 is almost unimaginably small -- on the scale of the universe it becomes the overwhelming force, as you pointed out. The last has become first, because of its nature. Of course the ratings are distorted; if the significance of range was fac -- tored in, gravity would be the strongest, if most diffuse, force."
"Yes, I have seen it in action," Norton replied, thinking of the black holes and the way they governed the uni -- verses. What was a black hole but a gravity sink? "So its effective force
-- "
"Effective force," Mars repeated. "There is another key concept. Think of a tiger and a million ants. The tiger has much more force than any ant, or any hundred or thousand ants. But the tiny force of the ants is accumu -- lative and cooperative; together they swarm over the tiger and destroy him, as gravity swarms over the universe. Effective force -- you must retain that concept, for it cer -- tainly counts most in battle."
"Urn, yes, I suppose." Norton was not entirely satis -- fied with this argument, since it seemed that his Hourglass was the tiger and the minions of Satan were the million ants. "But then magic -- "
"A thousand times as feeble as gravity! So weak that for a time scientists doubted its existence!" Mars chuck -- led, as if it were a great joke. "Can you imagine that? Not believing in magic, simply because you can't detect it in a single molecule? It's pretty hard to detect gravity in a single molecule, too, but they never doubted gravity! The magic in the molecule is overwhelmed by the gravity there;
that doesn't mean the magic doesn't exist. But magic has a range of about 107 meters, or about the diameter of Earth. So we can experience it quite conveniently on our scale, without noting any effect on the larger universe. It's like the strong nuclear force, acting only on the neu -- tron touching it; but since all of us are touching Earth, we're in its range. It is true it is weak in absolute terms, but not only is it accumulative, it is focusable, so that the magic inherent in a cubic kilometer of the planet can be brought to bear in concentrated form at a microscopically small point. Think of it as sunlight being focused by a magnifying glass, able to burn holes in solid wood. Thus its malleability causes magic to become, when properly applied, a force more potent than even the strongest of the other forces. The right magic, concentrated 1042 times, can separate the nucleus of an atom nonexplosively, which accounts for the transmutation of lead into gold; or it can interfere with the internal workings of a small black hole." Mars paused to waggle his finger in mock warning. "Now don't you try it with a large black hole! Anywhere the magicons can reach -- "
"Don't you mean 'magicians'?" Norton asked. "I do not. The strong nuclear force is carried by gluons, the weak by intermediate vector bosons of several vari -- eties, the electromagnetic by photons, gravity by gravi -- tons, and magic by magicons. Of course, all these basic forces are united by the Reunified Field Theorem -- "
"You're getting too technical for me," Norton pro -- tested. "I never did understand nuclear physics very well." "Certainly. My business is force, so I understand forces;
your business is time, so you understand aspects of time that would baffle me. It is enough for you to accept that, for you, time is force. Your Hourglass focuses magic more potently than does any other instrument. The Hourglass has the power to balk Satan -- if you use it properly." "That's good to know! But how should I use it?" Mars spread his hands. "That I can not tell you, for time is not my specialty. I can only assure you that the potential is there. My force analysis makes this quite clear." He showed Norton the paper, now filled out with a neat chart of the five intrinsic forces with their strengths, ranges, and carrier particles. "Take this with you; maybe it will help your strategy of battle."
"Uh, thank you," Norton said, uncertain about that.
"Remember, Chronos: fight, never give in, and you shall win. You have the instrument Satan can not over -- come. He is Goliath; you are David."
"I'll try," Norton agreed weakly and moved out. If he had to bet on a return match, he would bet on Goliath.
He went back to his mansion in Purgatory, deeply trou -- bled. Mars had expressed confidence in him -- but was it justified? It hardly mattered how powerful the Hourglass was or how vulnerable Satan might be -- if he did not know how to apply his force to Satan's weakness, what good was it?
When he entered, the butler informed him that he had a caller. No rest for the weary! It was Satan, the last entity he wanted to see at the moment. "Get out, Beel -- zebub!" he snapped.
"Now, don't be that way. My dear associate," Satan said graciously. "I have glimpsed an alternate reality in which we had a very stimulating encounter. Now it is over, and there need be no hard feelings. I am really not a bad fellow, when you give Me a chance. For example, there is lagniappe for you." He gestured to the television set, and it came on, showing a woman with a healthy baby.
Norton stared. The woman was Orlene! Alive and well!
"In this reality, she survives," Satan said. "Gaea was more alert and refused to do the favor for the foolish ghost. Her baby is not flawed, favors you, and will live to inherit the estate. You may readily verify this for your -- self. Go to her, Chronos; she loves you."
With that, Satan opened his suit jacket, revealing emp -- tiness inside. The emptiness expanded as he drew the lapels back around him, until only his two hands holding the lapel remained; then they, too, disappeared, and he was gone.
Orlene! After Norton had given her up for lost -- to have her back! To have joy return to his life!
Then he wondered whether it was right. It was true that he loved her, she loved him, and their baby had a fine future awaiting him. But Satan was actually proffering a bribe -- settle for this reality and have this reward. At what cost? If he went along with it, he would be acquiesc -- ing in Satan's victory on Earth. In fact, because he, Chronos, had unwittingly enabled Satan to bring about this reality, he had become one of the agents of the Prince of Evil.
He watched Orlene's image on the screen as she cooed to her baby. How he wanted her and wanted her to be alive and happy! But could he accept these things -- as payment for facilitating evil?
He stood, and slowly his vision blurred; an intangible yet terrible weight settled upon him. "Forgive me, Orlene," he whispered. "I can not."
The television snapped off. She was gone, in every sense. Norton stared at the blank screen, feeling a wash of grief for what might have been. He had thought he was over Orlene; now he knew he would never be over her. Yet he had denied her. He would have to live out his life with the knowledge that he could have saved her -- and had not. He had condemned her back to agony and death. What price, conscience?
That was assuming he found a way to reverse what Satan had done. Did he really want to do that now? Know -- ing what was right was not the same as completely desir -- ing it. But even if he found no way, and this present reality stood, he would always know that he had in the end rejected the woman he loved. She had not, in the final analysis, been the most important thing in his life. He had chosen principle instead.
Principle tasted like ashes.
Satan had found a fiendish way to torture him, by showing him Orlene! Satan certainly knew how to exploit a person's weakness.
Then he had another thought -- why had Satan both -- ered? Surely the Prince of Evil had worse things to do than torment a defeated foe. Satan had a world to organ -- ize, preparing for his final victory on Earth just a few years hence. It did not make sense for him to trouble himself with trifles.
Unless he was not teasing Norton. Suppose the bribe was real -- that it had definite justification, by Satan's logic? That it was necessary to change the outcome of a battle that was not yet quite over? This suggested that Chronos could indeed reverse what Satan had done, and Satan knew it. So Satan was trying to sap Norton's will to fight.
Mars had told him to keep fighting and never give up. Mars had believed Chronos could win, because of the supreme potency of the magical force he controlled. Was Mars a fool? Surely not about battle!
Norton brought out the chart Mars had made. There was magic, the weakest of the intrinsic forces, yet the strongest when properly utilized. Here was the Hour -- glass, capable of utilizing magic most properly. Satan was Goliath, seemingly all-powerful; Norton was David, with only one weapon. But it was the one weapon that could do the job.
It seemed that Goliath knew of his own vulnerability, so he had tried to bribe David not to use his weapon. "Here, David, you're a plucky lad -- let me give you this beautiful woman Delilah for that little sling of yours." No, Delilah was from another legend, and Orlene was no temp -- tress. Still, it fitted. Satan wanted him to quit. Therefore he should fight on. His enemy had confirmed his power.
Now another thing occurred to him. He could not have Orlene anyway, for the same reasons as before; he lived backward and, if he reversed himself to join her, he would soon come up against the date of his acquisition of the office of Chronos and have to leave her. So Satan's offer was largely illusion, anyway.
Norton was glad he had made his decision of con -- science before realizing that. It made him feel a little better about himself.
Of course, it would be better to have Orlene and the baby alive than tragically dead. Or would it? What kind of life would they have in a world dominated by Satan? The Prince of Evil had been proceeding carefully, not interfering unduly in the affairs of the world until he could consolidate his power. Evil had infinite patience! But once the critical nexus passed and he was victorious, what then? Surely he would change everything to suit himself, and it would be literally Hell on Earth. Oriene would suffer that, and her baby, and everyone else. Evil would triumph everywhere, making all decent people miserable. No, Satan had offered no bargain at all!
If only it could be possible for every person in the world to see the future Satan offered
-- to remember his future as he remembered his past, and to appreciate how that future declined as Evil gained. That would shake things up and make Satan's victory impossible. But that could not be done.
Or could it?
Norton brought out the Hourglass and contemplated its flowing white sand. He lived backward; the future was familiar to him, as far as it went. But the Hourglass could also affect others when he willed it to. It could transport others in time, or even cause the whole world to live backward for a few hours. Truly, it was the most potent of all magic instruments, as Mars had said. But could it make ordinary people see a future they had not yet expe -- rienced?
Squeeze.
"Sning!" he exclaimed. "I forgot you! How I need your advice now!" He realized that, though he had called others friends and loved a woman, Sning had been his truest companion throughout, the one who was best able to share his experience.
Squeeze.
"You say the Hourglass can make others see the future?"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Um. He had to narrow down the circumstances. "It can, but it's limited? Such as to -- to the time I assumed the office, since I have no worldly power beyond then?"
Squeeze.
But that was only a few days. Not much good. He needed a decade or so. In fact, he needed eighteen years -- the time since Satan had foiled Luna's entry into political office.
Squeeze.
"We can do it -- for eighteen years?" he asked excit -- edly.
Squeeze.
"I can go back to that time -- Just before she loses the election -- and show the world what it is heading for?"
Squeeze.
But now he saw a serious flaw. The world had not become a horror in those eighteen years. The horror would not occur until Satan could assume power openly -- and that was after (before) Norton's assumption of office. He could not show the world that, and certainly Satan would not make his mischief known before then. The Father of Lies wanted complete order and peace until he was ready, just as a hunter wanted no disruption until the wild animal he stalked came within his sights. All Norton could show people was a fairly normal progression.
Squeeze.
"But that won't work! Because there's no horror."
Squeeze,squeeze.
"It will work?"
Squeeze.
"You're sure?"
Squeeze.
"Okay, Sning. Your information has always been good before. How do I do it? Do I turn the sand a new color?"
Squeeze.
"Which color? Purple? Gold? Plaid? Orange? Gray? Violet? Brown?"
Sning had not squeezed at any of the colors, but after brown he squeezed three times. Norton scratched his head. "None of those, but brown does have its points?"
Squeeze.
"But I've really guessed all the basic colors and several shades. You act as if no color or combination -- "
Squeeze.
"No color? But you said -- "
Squeeze.
"Ah -- no color! Transparent. Clear."
"Representing the future, not for living but for seeing. Or remembering, the way I do. The veil of opacity made permeable."
Squeeze.
"Well, let's try it!" he said, excited.
He turned the sand to yellow and traveled in space to the spot on Earth where Sning indicated Luna would be found after the election. This was in the city of Kilva -- rough, at her estate.
"Her estate?" he asked, surprised.
Squeeze.
"Um, let me do one thing, then, before I get on it." He turned the sand green and knocked on her door.
She answered immediately. Naturally she wasn't away from home much, since she had no office to attend to. In the other reality she had been Senator, but had arranged to be home to meet him; Lachesis had surely facilitated that. Behind her, this time, stood Thanatos -- and Mars, Atropos, and Gaea. "My stones informed me you were going to try," she said. "We wish you success."
He had thought he was about to inform her; obviously there had been no need. "You understand -- if I succeed -- you will no longer exist as you do now. You won't even remember this life. None of you will."
"We understand, Chronos," Luna said. "Your power in this respect is greater than any other." She took his hand, drew him forward, and kissed him on the cheek. She was not young, but she was a lovely woman.
Norton brought out the Hourglass. "Well, farewell, all," he said awkwardly.
They merely waited expectantly. He was touched by their acceptance of this significant change that could abol -- ish their past eighteen years of experience. Surely it was not easy!
He turned the sand blue and willed himself into the past.
Sning gave a warning squeeze as he neared the date and another as he came to the hour. Finally he settled on the minute and stopped, turning the sand green.
Luna stood there, Thanatos beside her. She was wiping her face, evidently repairing the damage wrought by tears. She was eighteen years younger than he had seen her a moment ago, about half her prior age, or at any rate in her early twenties, and stunningly beautiful despite her misery. Her dull brown hair was now bright chestnut, shoulder-length and luxurious, and her eyes were like windows on Heaven. She was breathtakingly slender and well formed, in a green gown reminiscent of her name -- sake, the luna moth, and her bright moonstone shone at her bosom. A jewel she wore -- and ajewel she was, surely! She looked up, startled, as Norton manifested.
"Chronos! Certainly you don't wish to share this unfor -- tunate moment!"
"Not exactly," Norton said.
"She is about to go out to make her concession speech," Thanatos said.
"I -- I would like to address the world first," Norton said, conscious of how preposterous this sounded.
"You?" Surprise did not register well on the Death -- head. "This is not your concern, Chronos!"
"I'm afraid it is my concern," Norton said. "I was inadvertently responsible for Luna's loss. Now I must try to undo the damage."
Thanatos shook his head. "Her reputation has been sullied beyond repair. The minions of Satan have used innuendo, outright lies -- even ballot-box stuffing. Satan's work -- but the people were fooled, and now it's over."
"I beg your indulgence," Norton said. "Let me try to undo what I can. If I fail, she can still concede."
Luna put her hand on Thanatos' shoulder. "See the Truthstones," she murmured.
Indeed, the stones on the mantel were shining like little stars. "I yield," Thanatos said.
They went outside to the front gate, beyond the range of the griffins. Television cameras and a magic mirror were set up there. The world was watching -- or at least that minor portion of it that cared to tune in on this particular concession speech. Most people were probably more interested in Luna's beauty than in her politics, anyway.
Luna stepped up to the focus of the media. In this year, mechanical microphones were still in use for sound pickup. "Before I speak, my friend Chronos will address you," she said.
"Hey, what's this?" a man protested, pushing forward. His eyes blazed with the inner fire of the possessed -- an agent of Satan. "We came to hear the harlot drop out!"
Thanatos started forward in cold fury, but Norton moved first. He shoved the Hourglass in the possessed's face. The man fell back, stunned.
"The minions of Satan have wronged this fine woman," Norton said. "Now I will show you your future if this wrong stands."
He turned the sand transparent and willed it into action, to embrace the whole world. He felt the immense power channeling through the Hourglass, the weakest force becoming the strongest. Nothing changed, physically; this was magic of the mind only.
There was a hush as the effect took hold. Then a cam -- eraman lurched away, dropping his camera. "I'm gonna die!" he screamed. "Next year, covering a hostage crisis, bomb goes off -- I remember! I'm getting out of here!"
A female reporter turned and slapped a news director. "You're going to throw me over for that hussy!" she cried indignantly. "Well, you can just forget about tonight, you sneak!"
The director could not deny it, for he remembered, too. Indeed, he seemed preoccupied, seeing farther into his own future. "AIDS?" he said, bewildered and horri -- fied. "Me? But I'm not part of that culture!"
"Evidently the hussy is," the driver next to him said. "That stuff's spreading fast, now that it's out of the special groups. My uncle's gonna get it, too, and die -- " He broke off, horrified as he realized what he was saying.
"Leukemia?" a bystander asked, chagrined. "How can I remember having that, when it's five years in the future? I'm going to do some research and change that before it happens!"
In moments the street was empty, as every person attending the concession speech sought to avoid the hor -- rors of his own future. Each person in the world was going to suffer tragedy and death sooner or later -- and no per -- son enjoyed the prospect. Everyone was trying to change his life to avoid the mischief he foresaw -- and, of course, that changed his future and that of those he interacted with and gave him new visions of the inevitable. Humanity was in chaos.
Satan himself arrived. Most of his minions could not take solid form on Earth, but he himself was an Incar -- nation, as real as the others. "Give over, Chronos!" he cried, fire showing inside his mouth in lieu of a tongue. "I sought no quarrel with you!"
"Not this year," Norton said. The sand remained clear. "But in a future year -- "
"You are generating utter chaos!" the Prince of Evil protested, smoke rising from him.
Norton glanced up and down the street. "Am I?" "It's impossible for anyone to function in this!" "Even you, Satan?" Norton inquired pleasantly. He was coming to understand the impact of his action. Satan's ultimate evil did not need to be manifest within eighteen years; the ordinary lives, loves, and deaths of people suf -- ficed. The sudden knowledge of the specific circumstance and time of his own misfortune or death drove the average person into a frenzy like that of a drowning man. The veil that shrouded the future was in fact a blessing, and now it had been rent.
"I am a Creature of order!" Satan said. "I have plans -- "
Norton merely looked at him inquiringly.
"I can't accomplish anything if they remember -- "
Norton waited.
"What do you want, Chronos?" the Prince of Evil demanded.
"Need you ask, sirrah?"
Satan stomped about, his horns turning red with frus -- tration and emitting sparks. "All right, Chronos! The bitch shall have her office!"
"The who?"
The sparks became larger, and a small zap of lightning flashed between Satan's horns. "The good woman!"
Norton allowed the sand to return to its underlying green. Sometime he would have to explore the mechanism that enabled him to remain in the green while the sand turned clear, but there was no hurry; obviously there were sophistications of the Hourglass that would require care
- ful study for full comprehension, but which protected him in his ignorance. "I trust you to honor your word, my dear associate," he said.
"Your trust is misplaced, fool!" Satan said, gesturing.
Abruptly the two of them were in Hell. Opaque smoke surrounded them, obscuring the details, but there was no question about the location. "Now try your little trick," Satan said grimly. "I'm sure My demons will enjoy seeing their futures."
Norton lifted the Hourglass -- but now the sand was fogged out by smoke, and he could not see the color. It wasn't illusion; it was genuine smoke; he couldn't abolish it by concentrating.
Satan couldn't hold him, of course. The Prince of Evil was merely setting up another diversion, trying to salvage his campaign to win power on Earth. The three-person limit would prevent Norton from returning here; he had to accomplish his mission now.
Norton had had enough of this. He owed Satan. Suing, he thought. Can you help me fix him once and for all?
What color? Transparent?
Squeeze,squeeze.
"Did you really think you could oppose me, Chronos?" Satan asked, sneering. Sulfurous smoke was curling up from his nose.
Black?
Squeeze, squeeze.
Desperately he tried the color they hadn't used before. Brown?
"Enough of this," Satan said. His arm shot forward, his hand landing on Norton's. There was a jolt of cur -- rent -- and Sning was in Satan's grasp. "This rogue demon is Mine!"
Norton felt as if he had been skewered. He had lost his most vital adviser! Satan could not touch the Hour -- glass, but Sning had no such protection.
Norton willed the sand brown, the color of Luna's hair, knowing the Hourglass would respond, though the smoke obscured it.
Satan paused, surprised. The smoke was curling down to his nose.
Norton was similarly surprised. What had he done? Satan turned about abruptly. Flame shot into his mouth,
and sparks zapped from the air to his horns. He lashed
his tail. "?lleh eht tahW" he demanded.
He was living backward! But no one else was; the
demons of Hell showed through the smoke now, glancing
at their Master with curiosity. The brown sand reversed
time for Satan alone.
The Father of Lies would break out of this predicament soon enough. That was not the point. Norton had shown Satan that Chronos could make him just as uncomfortable as he could make Chronos.
Norton reached for Satan's hand to take Sning back. Satan tried to snatch the ring away, but his reversed reflex caused him to shove it directly at Norton instead. Norton took the snake and returned the ring to his finger. Sque-he-he-heze! Sning seemed to be laughing. Norton walked away -- and Satan's illusion dissolved around him. He was still on the street, and Thanatos and Luna were waiting. "We saw the smoke, but decided to let you deal with Satan in your own way," Thanatos explained. "Every Incarnation must come to his own terms with Satan."
"True," Norton agreed. He turned to face Satan, who was now on the street but still locked in reverse. "I trust you will behave now. Lord of Flies. I wouldn't want to have to invoke my power again. Or is my trust mis -- placed?"
356 Beamy An Hourglass
Satan became so hot he suffered a phenomenal implo -- sion of flame and winked out like a reversed nova.
Norton experienced a great relief and satisfaction. He had at last faced Satan directly and held him off! Mars' advice to him had been right; all he had needed to do was keep fighting.
He turned to Luna. "Notice of the recount should be broadcast soon, and your reputation will be restored. You have begun your political career."
"Thank you, Chronos," she said faintly.
Thanatos stepped forward, extending his skeletal hand. "I knew you had power, Chronos; I never suspected its extent."
"Neither did I," Norton said, accepting the hand. He knew this was not the occasion to discuss his first encoun -- ter with Thanatos, eighteen years hence. "Farewell, both."
He turned the sand red and returned to his present. He landed on the street outside Luna's estate.
Satan reappeared, horns red-hot. "How dare you -- "
Norton lifted the Hourglass and turned the sand brown. Satan vanished.
He steadied the sand on green and turned to the front gate. All the Incarnations were there, and Luna herself. "My stones told me to appear for this meeting, though I have pressing political business," she said. "Now I remember: I owe not only my life but my office to you. You helped me win my first election as a representative, and later my election as Senator. I am deeply in your debt."
"And I in yours," Norton said. "Just do what you have to do when your crisis looms. We all must strive con -- stantly to keep Satan at bay."
"Yes, of course," Thanatos agreed. "But I wish we could reward you for your special effort
-- "
"There is no need," Norton said, thinking of the bleak -- ness he now had to return to, living his life opposite to them and the world, not even speaking of this matter as he moved into their past, lest that somehow change the course.
PiersAwlShony
"/ will attend to his reward," Atropos declared, shifting to Clotho. "Keep the sand green, Chronos, until we reach your mansion, so I won't forget."
Norton looked at her. She had evidently prepared for this occasion, for she was ravishing. And she understood! He realized that there were, after all, compensations to his lonely office.