Eight Fantasms and Magics

by Jack Vance

  The ottoman was only a foot high; sitting in it Shorn would be forced to crane his neck to see Dominion.

  “No, thanks. I prefer to stand." He put a foot on the ottoman, inspected Dominion coolly, eye to eye.

  Dominion said evenly, “What do you have to tell me?"

  Shorn started to speak, but found it impossible to look into the smoldering black eyes and think at the same time. He turned his eyes out the window to a pinnacle of white cloud. “I've naturally considered this situation carefully. If you’ve done the same—as I imagine you have—then there’s no point in each of us trying to outwit the other. I have information that’s important, critically important, to a great number of Teleks. I want to trade this information for Telek status." He glanced toward Dominion whose eyes had never faltered, looked away once more.

  “I’m trying to arrange this statement with absolute clarity, so there’ll be complete understanding between us. First, I want to remind you, I have poison in my mouth. I’ll kill myself before I part with what I know, and I guarantee you’ll never have another chance to learn what I can tell you." Shorn glanced earnestly sidewise at Dominion. “No hypnotic drug can act fast enough to prevent me from biting open my cyanide—well, enough of that.

  “Second: I can’t trust any verbal or written contract you make; if I accepted such a contract I’d have no means to enforce it. You are in a stronger position. If you deliver your part of the bargain, and I fail to deliver my part, you can still arrange that I be—well, penalized. Therefore, to demonstrate your good faith, you must make delivery before I do.

  “In other words, make me a Telek. Then I’ll tell you what I know."

  Dominion sat staring at him a full thirty seconds. Then he said softly, “Three days ago Cluche Kurgill was not so rigorous."

  “Three days ago, Cluche Kurgill did not know what he knows now."

  Dominion said abruptly, “I cannot argue with your exposition. If I were you, in your position, I would make the same stipulation. However"—he looked Shorn keenly up and down—“three days ago I would have considered you an undesirable adjunct.”

  Shorn assumed a lofty expression. “Judging from the Teleks I have known, I would not have assumed you to be so critical.”

  “You talk past your understanding,” said Dominion crisply. “Do you think that men like Nollinrude, for instance, who was just killed, are typical of the Teleks? Do you think that we are all careless of our destiny?” His mouth twisted contemptuously. “There are forces at work which you do not know of, tremendous patterns laid out for the future. But enough; these are high-level ideas.”

  He floated clear of his chair, lowered to the floor. “I agree to your stipulation. Come with me, we’ll get it over with. You see, we are not inflexible; we can move swiftly and decisively when we wish.”

  He led Shorn back into the green glass tube, jerked himself to the upper landing, watched impatiently while Shorn circled up the steps.

  “Come.” He stepped out on a wide white terrace bathed in afternoon sunlight, went directly to a low table on which rested a cubical block of marble.

  He reached into a cabinet under the table, pulled out a small speaker, spoke into the mesh. “The top two hundred to Glarietta Pavilion.” He turned back to Shorn. “Naturally there’ll be certain matters you must familiarize yourself with.”

  “In order to become a Telek, you mean?”

  “No, no,” snapped Dominion. “That’s a simple mechanical matter. Your perspective must be adjusted; you’ll be living with a new orientation toward life.”

  “I had no idea it was quite so involved.”

  “There’s a great deal you don’t understand.” He motioned brusquely. “Now to business. Watch that marble block on the table. Think of it as part of yourself, controlled by your own nervous impulses. No, don’t look around; fix on the marble block. I’ll stand here.” He took a place near the table. “When I point to the right, move it to the right.

  Mind now, the cube is part of your organism, part of your flesh, like your hands and feet.”

  There was murmuring and a rustle behind Shorn; obedient to Dominion he fastened his eyes on the cube.

  “Now.” Dominion pointed to the left.

  Shorn willed the cube to the left.

  “The cube is part of you,” said Dominion. “Your own body.”

  Shorn felt a cool tremor at his skin. The cube moved to the left.

  Dominion pointed to the right. Shorn willed the cube to the right. The tingling increased. It was as if he were gradually finding himself immersed in cool carbonated water.

  Left. Right. Left. Right. The cube seemed to be nearer to him, though he had not moved. As near as his own hand. His mind seemed to break through a tough sphincter into a new medium, cool and wide; he saw the world in a sudden new identity, something part of himself.

  Dominion stepped away from the table; Shorn was hardly conscious that he no longer made directive gestures. He moved the cube right, left, raised it six feet into the air, twenty feet, sent it circling high around the sky. As he followed it with his eyes, he became aware of Teleks standing silently behind him, watching expressionlessly.

  He brought the cube back to the table. Now he knew how to do it. He lifted himself into the air, moved across the terrace, set himself down. When he looked around the Teleks had gone.

  Dominion wore a cool smile. “You take hold with great ease.”

  “It seems natural enough. What is the function of the others, the Teleks behind on the terrace?”

  Dominion shrugged. “We know little of the actual mechanism. At the beginning, of course, I helped you move the cube, as did the others. Gradually we let our minds rest, and you did it all.”

  Shorn stretched. “I feel myself the center, the hub, of everything—as far as I can see.”

  Dominion nodded without interest. “Now—come with me.” He sped through the air. Shorn followed, exulting in his new power and freedom. Dominion paused by the corner of the terrace, glanced over his shoulder. Shorn saw his face in the fore-shortened angle: white, rather pinched features, eyes subtly tilted, brows drawn down, mouth subtly down-curving. Shorn’s elation gave way to sudden wariness. Dominion had arranged the telekinetic indoctrination with a peculiar facility. The easiest way to get the desired information, certainly; but was Dominion sufficiently free from vindictiveness to accept defeat? Shorn considered the expression he had surprised on Dominion's face.

  It was a mistake to assume that any man, Telek or not, would accept with good grace the terms dictated by a paid turncoat.

  Dominion would restrain himself until he learned what Shorn could tell him; then—and then?

  Shorn slowed his motion. How could Dominion arrange a moment of gloating before he finally administered the coup de grâce? Poison seemed most likely. Shorn grinned. Dominion would consider it beautifully just if Shorn could be killed with his own poison. A sharp blow or pressure under the jaw would break the capsule in his tooth.

  Somehow Dominion would manage.

  They entered a great echoing hall, suffused with green-yellow light that entered through panes in the high-vaulted dome. The floor was silvershot marble; dark-green foliage grew in formal raised boxes. The air was fresh and odorous with the scent of leaves.

  Dominion crossed without pause. Shorn halted halfway across.

  Dominion turned his head. “Come.”

  “Where?”

  Dominion’s mouth slowly bent into a grimace that was unmistakably dangerous. “Where we can talk.”

  “We can talk here. I can tell you what I want to tell you in ten seconds. Or if you like, I’ll take you to the source of the danger.”

  “Very well,” said Dominion. “Suppose you reveal the nature of the threat against the Teleks. A brain disease, you said?”

  “No. I used the idea as a figure of speech. The danger I refer to is more cataclysmic than a disease. Let’s go out in the open air. I feel constricted.’’ He grinned at Dominion.

&nb
sp; Dominion drew in a deep breath. It must infuriate him, thought Shorn, to be commanded and forced to obey a common man and a traitor to boot. Shorn made a careless gesture. “I intend to keep my part of the bargain; let’s have no misunderstanding there. However—I want to escape with my winnings, if you understand me.”

  “I understand you,” said Dominion. “I understand you very well.” He made an internal adjustment, managed to appear almost genial. “However, perhaps you misjudge my motives. You are a Telek now; we conduct ourselves by a strict code of behavior which you must learn.”

  Shorn put on a face as gracious as Dominion’s. “I suggest then that we hold our conference down on Earth.”

  Dominion pursed his lips. “You must acclimate yourself to Telek surroundings—think, act, like a Telek.”

  “In due time,” said Shorn. “At the moment I’m rather confused; the sense of power comes as a great intoxication.” “It apparently has not affected your capacity for caution,” Dominion observed dryly.

  “I suggest that we at least go out into the open, where we can talk at leisure.”

  Dominion sighed. “Very well.”

  VI

  Laurie went restlessly to the dispenser, drew tea for herself, coffee for Circumbright. “I just can’t seem to sit still...."

  Circumbright inspected the pale face with scientific objectivity. If Laurie condescenced to even the slightest artifice or coquetry, he thought, she would become a creature of tremendous charm. He watched her appreciatively as she went to the window, looked up into the sky.

  Nothing to see but reflected glow; nothing to hear but the hum of far traffic.

  She returned to the couch. “Have you told Doctor Kurgill . . . of Cluche?”

  Circumbright stirred his tea. “Naturally I couldn’t tell him the truth.’’

  “No.” Laurie looked off into space. She shuddered. “I’ve never been so nervous before. Suppose—’’ her forebodings could find no words.

  “You’re very fond of Shorn, aren’t you?’’

  The quick look, the upward flash of her eyes, was enough.

  They sat in silence.

  “Sh,” said Laurie. “I think he’s coming.”

  Circumbright said nothing.

  Laurie rose to her feet. They both watched the door latch. It moved. The door slid back. The hall was empty.

  Laurie gasped in something like terror. There came a tapping at the window.

  They wheeled. Shorn was outside, floating in the air.

  For a moment they stood paralyzed. Shorn rapped with his knuckles; they saw his mouth form the words, “Let me in.”

  Laurie walked stiffly to the window, swung it open. Shorn jumped down into the room.

  “Why did you scare us like that?” she asked indignantly.

  “I’m proud of myself. I wanted to demonstrate my new abilities.” He drew himself a cup of coffee. “I guess you’ll want to hear my adventures.”

  “Of course!”

  He sat down at the table and described his visit to Glarietta Pavilion.

  Circumbright listened placidly. “And now what?”

  “And now—you’ve got a Telek to experiment on. Unless Dominion conceives a long-distance method of killing me. He’s spending a restless night, I should imagine.”

  Circumbright grunted.

  “First,” said Shorn, “they put a bug on me. I expected it. They knew I expected it. I got rid of it in the Beaux-Arts Museum. Then I began thinking, since they would expect me to dodge the bug and feel secure after I’d done so, no doubt they had a way to locate me again. Tracker material sprayed on my clothes, fluorescent in a nonvisual frequency. I threw away Cluche’s clothes, which I didn’t like in the first place, washed in three changes of solvicine and water, disposed of the red wig. Cluche Kurgill has disappeared. By the way, where is Cluche’s body?”

  “Safe.”

  “We can let it be found tomorrow morning. With a sign on him reading, ‘I am a Telek spy.’ Dominion will certainly hear of it; he’ll think I’m dead, and that will be one problem the less.”

  “Good idea.”

  “But poor old Doctor Kurgill,” remonstrated Laurie. “He’ll never believe such a note.”

  “No ... I suppose not.” She looked Shorn over from head to feet. “Do you feel different from before?”

  “I feel as if all of creation were part of me. Identification with the cosmos, I guess you’d call it.”

  “But how does it work?”

  Shorn deliberated. “I’m really not sure. I can move the chair the same way I move my arm, with about the same effort.”

  “Evidently,” said Circumbright, “Geskamp had told them nothing of the mitrox under the stadium.”

  “They never asked him. It was beyond their imagination that we could conceive such an atrocity.” Shorn laughed. “Dominion was completely flabbergasted. Bowled over. For a few minutes I think he was grateful to me.”

  “And then?”

  “And then, I suppose he remembered his resentment, and began plotting how best to kill me. But I told him nothing until we were in the open air; any weapon he held I could protect myself from. A bullet I could think aside, even back at him; a heat-gun I could deflect.”

  “Suppose his will on the gun and your will clashed?” Circumbright asked mildly.

  “I don’t know what would happen. Perhaps nothing. Like a man vacillating between two impulses. Or perhaps the clash and the subsequent lack of reaction would invalidate both our confidence, and down we’d fall into the ocean. Because now we were standing on nothing, a thousand feet over the ocean.”

  “Weren’t you afraid, Will?” asked Laurie.

  “At first—yes. But a person becomes accustomed to the sensation very quickly. It’s a thing we’ve all experienced in our dreams. Perhaps it’s only a trifling aberration that stands in the way of telekinesis for everyone.”

  Circumbright grunted, loaded his pipe. “Perhaps we’ll find that out, along with the other things.”

  “Perhaps. Already I begin to look at life and existence from another viewpoint.”

  Laurie looked worried. “I thought things were just the same.”

  “Fundamentally, yes. But this feeling of power—of not being tied down—” Shorn laughed. “Don’t look at each other like that. I’m not dangerous. I’m only a Telek by courtesy. And now, where can we get three pressure suits?”

  “At this time of night? I don’t know.”

  “No matter. I’m a Telek. We’ll get them. Provided of course you’d like to visit the Moon. All-expense tour, courtesy of Adlari Dominion. Laurie, would you like to fly up, fast as light, fast as thought, stand in the Earthshine, on the lip of Eratosthenes, looking out over the Mare Imbrium?”

  She laughed uneasily. “I’d love it, Will. But . . . I’m scared.”

  “What about you, Gorman?”

  “No. You two go. There’ll be other chances for me.”

  Laurie jumped to her feet. Her cheeks were pink, her mouth was red arid half open in excitement. Shorn looked at her with a sudden new vision. “Very well, Gorman. Tomorrow you can start your experiments. Tonight-”

  Laurie found herself picked up, carried out through the window.

  “Tonight,” said Shorn by her side, “we’ll pretend that we’re souls—happy souls—exploring the universe.”

  Circumbright lived in a near-abandoned suburb to the north of Tran. His house was a roomy old antique, rearing like a balky horse over the Meyne River. Big industrial plants blocked the sky in all directions; the air reeked with foundry fumes, sulfur, chlorine, tar, burnt-earth smells.

  Within, the house was cheerful and untidy. Circumbright’s wife was a tall, strange woman who worked ten hours a day in her studio, sculpturing dogs and horses. Shorn had met her only once; so far as he knew she had no interest or even awareness of Circumbright’s anti-Telek activities.

  He found Circumbright basking in the sun, watching the brown river water roll past. He sat on a little porch
he had built apparently for no other purpose but this.

  Shorn dropped a small cloth sack in his lap. “Souvenirs.” Circumbright opened the bag unhurriedly, pulled out a handful of stones, each tagged with a card label. He looked at the first, hefted it. “Agate.” He read the label. “ ‘Mars.’ Well, well.” A bit of black rock was next. “Gabbro? From— let’s see. ‘Ganymede.’ My word, you wandered far afield.” He shot a bland blue glance up at Shorn. “Telekinesis seems to have agreed with you. You’ve lost that haggard, hunted expression. Perhaps I’ll have to become a Telek myself.” “You don’t look haggard and hunted. Quite the reverse.” Circumbright returned to the rocks. “Pumice. From the Moon, I suppose.” He read the label. “No—Venus. You made quite a trip.”

  Shorn looked up into the sky. “Rather hard to describe. There’s naturally a feeling of loneliness. Darkness. Something like a dream. Out on Ganymede we were standing on a ridge, obsidian, sharp as a razor. Jupiter filled a third of the sky, the red spot right in the middle, looking at us. There was a pink and blue dimness. Peculiar. Black rock, the big bright planet. It was . . . weird. I thought, suppose the power fails me now, suppose we can’t get home? It gave me quite a chill.” “You seem to have made it.”

  “Yes, we made it.” Shorn seated himself, thrust out his legs. “I’m not hunted and haggard, but I’m confused. Two days ago I thought I had a good grasp on my convictions-”

  “And now?”

  “Now—I don’t know.”

  “About what?”

  “About our efforts. Their ultimate effect, assuming we’re successful.”

  “Hm-m-m.” Circumbright rubbed his chin. “Do you still want to submit to experiments?”

  “Of course. I want to know why and how telekinesis works.”

  “When will you be ready?”

  “Whenever you wish.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? Let’s get started.”