by John White
"I didn't drink any," she said.
"Drink any what?"
"Shagah brought what I said he would-bread and water. But I haven't touched it."
John stared at her. He was feeling ill. "Why ever not?" he asked.
"I didn't want you accusing me of taking more than my share."
John made no reply. He could see a stale-looking roll of bread, the long kind they sell in France, and an earthenware pitcher containing water. There were no cups, plates, knives or forks. He dragged himself wearily to the bread and broke it into two halves, and gave one-half to Eleanor. It was very dry. Then he picked up the pitcher and took it to Eleanor. "Take a few swigs," he said. "You won't be able to swallow that dry bread if you don't."
"Think I didn't know that?" Eleanor asked scornfully.
Normally John would have replied in kind, but he was too depressed to bother.
When Eleanor had finished drinking she said, "They're going to let us out for a bit later on. Shagah said so." John said nothing but took the pitcher from her and drank. He deposited it halfway between the two of them, sat down beside his bread, but felt too nauseated to touch it.
They finished their water well before noon, and suffered greatly from thirst later. John never felt like eating his bread. This seemed to bother Eleanor, and at first she accused him of playing the martyr. Eventually she began to eat his share. "Are you sure? I mean really sure. Mebbe you'll feel different later." The bread seemed to change her attitude a little, and she watched him anxiously from time to time.
Later they were taken out for exercise by a strange little gnome with a bunch of keys round his waist. He told them with a malicious grin that they could go wherever they wanted. John thought he would see how far he could go, but found to his amazement that after he had gone thirty yards or so he would find himself back beside the cage. So he began to walk away from it again only to have the same result. The gnome watched both of them, an evil grin on his wrinkled, bearded face. After a few attempts, they gave up.
A second exercise period came just before nightfall, and as they were locked inside again John, feeling a need for someone to talk to, told Eleanor of his experiences during the previous night.
"You must have been dreaming."
"I don't know. I thought so at first, but the last part was almost too real. You sure you weren't in that bed singing?"
Eleanor laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps you were delirious. You haven't been eating. Are you sick? Your eye looks awful-it's a real black eye and it's swollen shut. Can you open it at all?"
John shook his head. "I don't feel good."
He looked away, scared that she would say it was his fault again. He fingered his swollen right eye cautiously, something he had been doing all along without thinking about it. He hated himself for their quarrel and didn't want another one to start. He lay down, closed his eyes, and was soon asleep. His sleep was dream-haunted. He walked through forests of talking trees, trees that mocked him. Eleanor had gone on ahead, and he was trying in vain to catch up with her. The dreams grew confused, full of witches and gnomes, earthquakes, deserts, sorcerers and dragons.
Shortly before dawn he woke, shivered a little and rose miserably to his feet. With his left eye he could just make out a dim bundle at the far end of the cage that told him Eleanor was sleeping. He turned to see the silhouette of the tops of the trees against the stars and seeing it, his heart suddenly contracted. Above the trees another silhouette was plainly visible, that of the tower, rising as strong and powerful as ever above the tree tops.
He took gulps of breath, gripped the bars of his cage with passion, and felt a pounding in his heart. He knew this time what it was he needed. He needed to get out of the cage and climb the tower again. He had no idea what he would do once he had climbed it, and suddenly did not care. He was so excited he ignored his nausea. A trembling swept through his body. He would bend the bars of the cage and get out! Every other thought left his mind. Eleanor, his father, the journey through the enchanted forest-all were forgotten. Only one thing mattered.
He ground his teeth as he struggled to pull the two of the bars further apart. Then, sensing he was getting nowhere, he placed himself alongside the bars, braced one of his feet against them and seizing one bar with both hands, used his weight and all of his strength to push it to one side. Again and again he struggled. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. He had no thought of giving up. With one more ounce of strength he was sure the bar would give.
He stopped. Perspiration poured down his face and chest. He was breathing so hard he thought he would suffocate. Then as soon as he could do so, he yelled with all his strength, "Shagah-where are you! I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I will, nowhonest I will! I'll do anything you say. Just come back and give me the tower again! Please! Please!"
The silence that followed was terrifying. Suddenly he knew that someone had responded to his summons. Was it possible? He strained his eyes to see and his ears to hear.
"What are you saying, John?"
Shock like a jolt of electricity shot through John. What had he said? Had he really said he'd do whatever Shagah asked? Did he say he'd trust the sorcerer? Did the tower have that much control over him?
He glanced up. The shame that swept across his face was hidden in the darkness. There was the silhouette of a tall man standing erect and strong on the other side of the bars. Even in the darkness John could see that his frame was tough and rugged, his bare arms bulging with strength. The shame grew until it was unbearable. He hung his head, wishing there were a place for him to hide, a bed to crawl under. He turned his back to the man and sat down, unable to speak.
"May I come in?" the man asked.
"The door's locked," John muttered.
"I can open it."
"Then why ask me if you can come in? I'm not stopping you!" John said, thinking to himself, "Try bending the bars, mister!" But as the minutes passed he began to feel ashamed not only of his actions but of his rudeness. A longing for understanding grew within him. At last he said, "Who are you?"
The silence between them continued to grow until at length the stranger said, "You know who I am."
It was true. John had never met the man, but he knew, knew at the first sound of his voice, knew with an absolute kind of knowing.
The man continued, "So what were you doing just now?"
"You heard what I was yelling," John said quietly. He knew his words were foolish, childish words. "I was-um-trying to get out of the cage."
"Why don't you say it, John? It'll feel a lot better once you've said it. Say the actual words."
Silence fell between them again. John's back was still turned toward him. At length he said, "Please, Gaal, I wanted to see."
"You wanted to see what?"
"I wanted to see if the hair was-still hanging from the window."
"And if it was?"
John's voice was so low that you would never have heard what he said. His actual words were, "I would have climbed up the tower and-and gone in through the window."
"And then what?"
John shook his head miserably. "I don't know, Gaal. I just don't know. I just wanted to do it again."
"Even though it got you into this mess the first time? And again in those tortured dreams?"
John drew in his breath, then sighed heavily. "Gaal-it was like-I mean I just couldn't stop myself-I . . ."
"It never occurred to you that the whole thing was crazy?"
"Well, yes it did." He paused, then with a rush of feeling said, "I hate that tower. I hate it, hate it, hate itl"
"Yet you would still like to climb it."
John's face burned in the dimness. "Yes, Gaal."
"And one day you shall. You see, my father built it."
John turned and looked up at the man outside the cage, staring in astonishment at him. Then he rose and faced him. "He did? But it's an enchanted tower in an enchanted forest. Shagah's there!"
"Yes. You let him in!
"
"No, no! He was already there. He pulled us up."
Gaal sat down beside the cage, and John, without thinking what he was doing, squatted down too. Daylight had begun to creep silently across the sky. John could see that Gaal was wearing a light-colored tunic, belted at the waist. He was bearded, and the eyes looked like kind eyes.
"I know that's what it seemed like," he said. "But it wasn't that way at all. This part of the forest, as you say, is under a spell. It hasn't always been that way. And the tower even now remains a very good tower, able to do exactly what my father had in mind when he built it. You just weren't supposed to stop and stare at it on this assignment, let alone climb into it. Shagah was hoping you would let him in, and you did so the moment you decided to disobey orders and go near it."
John stared at the tower. "You mean he's not in there now?"
"No, he's not."
"Then where is he?"
"Trembling before his master at his failure to capture the treasures! The tower was never designed to be a hotel for wizards."
The treasures! He had forgotten the treasures. But why had Shagah not seized them? He turned to look into Gaal's eyes and asked him the question in his mind.
"No one can seize the treasures. Even though he captured, you he had no power to take them from you. First you would have had to trust him. Only if you would give him your trust could he seize the treasures for himself. And if I remember rightly, you told him last night that you did not trust him. I came because I thought you might begin to do so."
John hung his head.
"Let me tell you something else about what happened," Gaal said. "The moment you took a good look at the tower you decided you would climb it!"
"That's not true, Gaal!"
"No? Face it, John. What happened was that you did not let yourself see what was in your mind. You thought it-but you told yourself, `I won't think about that now.' Yet deep down you knew all along what you would do." He reached his hand through the bars. "That's quite a black eye you've got there. Let me see if I can help it."
Gently he touched John's right eye. "There!" he murmured to himself. The touch exuded warmth and comfort. A pleasant tingling sensation flooded the swollen tissues. Suddenly John was seeing with two eyes. His hand shot up to feel his eye, only to discover that the eye felt normal for the first time in nearly two days.
"Oh, thank you!"
"Now-and for the second time-may I come in?"
"You mean into the cage?"
"Of course!"
John had not really been thinking before, and had not really believed Gaal's claim to be able to overcome locked doors. So now he replied, "How could you? I couldn't get the bars to budge."
Gaal rose to his feet and, pushing the bars to one side as easily as if they had been curtains, stepped between them and into the cage. John stared at the gap between the twisted bars. "How did you do that?"
"Would you like the cage to go away altogether?"
"Are you kidding?"
Gaal looked steadily at John and said, "Be free, John McNab, be free!" At once the cage was gone. One minute it had surrounded them, and the next it was nowhere to be seen. There was not a sign of it anywhere. Eleanor still lay sleeping, and the three of them were free under the sky, a sky that was becoming brighter every minute.
Gaal looked at Eleanor's sleeping figure. "You gave her a pretty rough time over the past little while. Will you tell her you're sorry?"
John sighed. His eye no longer troubled him, but he was unspeakably weary and still felt ill. He wanted to say, "Well, she was just as bad as me!" Instead he said, "I don't think she really wants me to. She doesn't think much of me. You should've heard what she said."
"I did. But that's between her and me. I don't want to talk about that with you, only about the ways you have grieved me. Like something to drink?"
"You mean the wine of free pardon?"
"No, though that too would be a good idea, if you need pardon, that is."
John hung his head. "Gaal, you know I do. You're just like the Changer. And like
Gaal pulled a leather wineskin from the belt around his waist. "This wine cost me all I have," he said. "But there's plenty of it. Drink freely."
John raised the bottle to his lips, squeezing it gently as he drank from it. A warmth filled his throat and a joyous trembling swept through his limbs. Tears were flowing down his cheeks as he handed the bottle back, and he said, "Oh, Gaal, thank you. How can you be like that?"
A gold chain hung from Gaal's belt, and he lifted it carefully and held it out to John. Hanging from it a deep blue stone shot rays of power. "I believe you lost this," he said.
John's hand reached out to seize it. As he released it, Gaal said, "I give it back to you, but I want you to know that power is dangerous. You are not yet strong enough to handle it well. It could destroy you. Remember. Only use this stone when I tell you to. Never use it to comfort yourself."
John stared at the stranger who seemed so close and so familiar to him. "Who are you. I know you, yet I never met you before."
"Are you sure?"
John hesitated. "You feel like-I mean you give me the same feeling inside that I get when the Changer used to speak to me."
"We are one."
"You mean you are the Changer?"
"I am in him and he is in me."
John stared at him, frowning. "You mean-"
"I mean just what I say."
Just then Eleanor struggled to a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. She saw Gaal and cried out, "Gaal1 Look at me! I'm not a dog anymore! I'm me again! You never saw me as a girl!" She flung herself at him, hugging him fiercely. For several minutes he said nothing.
Then he said, "I never saw you as a girl before? What about last night?"
Eleanor pulled away then stared at him, a look of dawning wonder on her face. She spoke slowly and hesitantly."Last night? You mean when you came in my dream!" She turned to look at John and her face fell. "I guess you won't want to, I mean ..." She took a deep breath and began again. "What I'm trying to say is-I mean I was pretty awful yesterday. Gaal made me see it like it was ..."
"Oh, no. It was really my fault. I ought to have-"
"No, it wasn't. It was mine. Honestly, I don't know what made me say the things I did ..."
Like the quarrel, the apology went on for some time. It was, however, pleasanter to listen to, and soon they were laughing at themselves and their behavior. While the apologies lasted, Gaal laid out a meal he had produced as if from crumbs left over from the night before. Warm loaves that exuded a fresh bread smell, along with fresh fruits and more of the restoring wine that had given John such new life. For nearly an hour they sat, eating and drinking.
"I must leave you soon," Gaal said at length.
"Oh, no! But why?"
"For the sake of my followers for one thing. Danger hangs over them like a storm cloud, especially in the great and evil city of Bamah. So far their enemies do not know their hiding places. But their security will soon be ended." The children's faces were grave. Gaal continued without explaining any more of the situation in Bamah. "Remember to follow instructions next time you are tested. Now listen carefully. Once you've been caught in a cage of this sort (it's called a guilt cage-you can sometimes get trapped in it even when you haven't disobeyed instructions) what you do is to remember that I have set you free-free from all guilt cages."
They stared at him, struggling to understand what he was saying.
"What you must do in that case is simply walk through the bars."
"You mean between them?" John asked.
"No, not between them, but through them. Try to realize that there is nothing there and walk through where you imagine you see bars."
"Ah, I see what you mean," Eleanor said. "You mean, it's a sort of dream cage that might come round us, making us think we're imprisoned."
Gaal smiled. "That's it. You've got the idea. You'll only be imprisoned if you think you are."
&n
bsp; Eleanor said, "Gaal, may I ask you something else? Not about cages, but about why you're here. And I don't mean here in the forest, but in Anthropos. When I was a dog you said-"
"-I said I promised to tell you. Very well. But first, did John say anything about what he saw in the village at the foot of the hill?"
"You mean about those strange people who seemed as though they were hypnotized? Yes, he did."
"They are like that because they chose to believe a lie. They disobeyed," Gaal said. In so doing they placed themselves under the dark powers and lost the ability to think for themselves. I have come to break the Circle's power, and to set them free."
"When will you do that-and how will you?" Eleanor's eyes were shining.
Gaal drew in a long breath. "They will capture me."
"The Circle?" John asked.
"Yes."
"And then you'll trick them and get away."
"No, it won't be like that. Rather, they'll kill me."
The children stared at him blankly. After a moment John said, "You're kidding. I mean, why would you let them? Aren't you more powerful than they are?"
Gaal smiled. "As a matter of fact I am."
"I don't understand," John said.
"Perhaps my greatest power will be used to conquer deathto conquer it from the inside, so to speak."
Eleanor shook her head, bewildered. John protested, his voice rising squeakily. "You're sort of the same as the Changer. You said so yourself. And the Changer isn't the sort of person that you can kill. I mean he doesn't even have a body."
"But I have. I shall be killed as a lamb by my enemy, the Bull of Bashan. On the day when it happens you will see me gored to death by a great black bull. In fact-well, I'll not bother to explain it now. You'll see for yourselves later on."
Eleanor's face wore a worried expression. "It sounds-it doesn't sound very nice," she said, "and I'm scared."
