That this stranger was a magician, the brothers knew well, for there was a charm upon his speech even as upon that of the Enchantress whom they had met earlier. They understood him clearly, although the words he spoke were of a strange and unfamiliar tongue. “I will give you food and lodging,” the man told them, “but in return you must promise to pay whatever price I ask of you.”
The woodcutter’s sons were weary, and they had had no food all day except dry bread. Over the old man’s fire hung a large pot, and from that pot there arose the irresistible odor of rabbit stew. On the morrow, perchance, they would meet the Dragon; and how can a man fight well if he is hungry and has had but little rest?
“We would accept that offer,” said the eldest brother, “but we have no money.”
“I will not demand money,” said the stranger. “But I will tell you no more than that in advance; you will have to trust me.”
Now Georyn knew that it was foolish to promise a payment that he could not even guess at, but his brothers were eager; and when he looked into the old man’s eyes, he found them honest eyes—unfathomable, perhaps, but surely honest. He did not believe that this man would cheat anyone. So he gave the promise required of him, and enjoyed a good supper and a warm place to sleep.
But in the morning, when the brothers would have set out once more upon their quest, their host detained them, saying, “You have eaten my meat and slept before my fire; now, in payment, you must serve me for three days.”
“But we cannot!” cried the brothers, “for we have sworn to fight the Dragon and vanquish it; and we must not tarry, lest another should precede us and claim the reward.”
It chanced that as they spoke thus, there burst forth from the wood a rough-clad fellow, a villager, who was pale and trembling with fright. The eldest brother called out, “What is the matter, my good man, that you flee with such haste?”
“Alas!” cried the villager, “I have been bewitched by evil spirits, and I fear they pursue me still.”
“Then take cheer,” said Georyn, “for you have reached the edge of the Enchanted Forest and are now safe. Where met you these demons?”
“Many miles hence; they attend the Dragon and have the power to turn men into stone!”
The brothers gasped, for how could one fight the Dragon if one were first turned into stone? And Georyn questioned the villager, who told them, “They are indeed fearful demons, who have the form of men, yet are larger than men, and wear no clothing; and their skins are of a glistening silver, and very hard, so that no sword can cut them. And these demons have no faces, but only round globes for heads; nor do they speak—but they cast spells, and those to whom they point are turned into stone, yet live. I too was bewitched and would presently have been fed to the Dragon; but for a moment the spell weakened and I escaped.”
“Did you see the Dragon?” Georyn asked.
“Certainly I saw it, and heard it, also! It is huge, ten times the size of yonder hut, and it is covered with silver scales. Its head is higher than the treetops, so great is its neck’s length! And when it has no men to devour it feeds upon the foliage; whole trees disappear into its maw, and all around the very earth is seared and blackened. There is a clearing larger than the King’s own grainfield where no grass will ever grow again. Never will that beast be slain by any mortal, I think, and our one hope is that we may find the means to appease it.”
“Surely this man must be mad!” announced the eldest brother. “We must be off, if we are to put an end to these foolish fears and gain the treasures the King has promised us.”
“Go, then,” said the owner of the hut. “I will let two of you depart; but the other two must stay to be my servants, for know that without my good will you cannot hope to win what you are seeking.”
At these words Georyn bethought himself that the old man might know of magic that could be used against the Dragon, and he told this to his brothers; but they only laughed and said, “If there be indeed such magic, why has not the magician killed the monster himself and claimed a half of the kingdom? We shall place our trust in strength and prowess and in our sharp swords, not in spells, which cannot be predicted or measured.”
So Georyn let the two eldest brothers go on ahead, telling them that he would follow. But the next-to-youngest brother, whose name was Terwyn, said, “I too will stay, for though I doubt that this man’s magic can help us, I will not break my promise to him.”
Then for three days did Georyn and Terwyn work, cutting wood for the old man and tending his fire; and during that time Georyn perceived that their master was not only good, but was also exceedingly wise. On the last morning of their service, he called them to him and told them that in return for their faithfulness he would grant them any boon that lay within his power. And Georyn forgot all about practical matters and asked hastily the thing that was closest to his heart:
“Sir, I pray that you will tell me the source of your wisdom!” The old man smiled and said, “Why, my wisdom has come from the stars; for they hold secrets beyond imagination, and I have seen them.”
“Is that then the way to knowledge, to be a watcher of stars?” Georyn asked dubiously, for he too had seen stars; often on clear nights he had lain upon the grass and gazed up at them for hours on end. Often too had he sensed that there was more to be seen than he could understand, but that was not exactly the sort of wisdom for which he had been looking.
“That is part of it, Georyn,” the Starwatcher said kindly, “but as I am sure you have guessed, it is not so simple as that. So I have not really given you an answer, and you must ask me something else.”
Thereupon hope rose within Georyn, and he asked, “Have the stars told you by what means the fiery Dragon may be overcome?”
“Yes, even this they have told me: the Dragon cannot be overcome by ordinary weapons, but only by magic.”
“So I have believed!” cried Georyn. “Ah, if the stars would but show how such magic may be understood and used!”
“This too have they done,” said the Starwatcher slowly. “But I cannot give you that secret until you have performed certain tasks that shall be set you.”
“Gladly will we perform these tasks,” said Terwyn, with enthusiasm. “For if our brothers have not already killed the Dragon—and I fear they would have returned ere now, had they done so—I am ready to agree that our swords alone will be of little use to us.”
The Starwatcher looked back and forth between the two brothers, holding their eyes in turn. “The tasks are not easy ones. They will require wit and courage.”
“That is to be expected,” said Georyn. “Tell us what we must do.”
“I have heard,” the Starwatcher said, “of an enchanted disk that I should like to have. This disk is no bigger than the palm of my hand, but it is very magical, for within it appear clear images of things as they are—images that move and speak, even as do the people that they represent. Were you to look into such a disk, Georyn, you could see me from afar and hear my voice; and so too could I see and hear you.”
“Only tell us where this marvel may be obtained,” cried Terwyn, “and we will get it for you.”
“I cannot tell you where to find the enchanted disk,” declared the Starwatcher. “You must discover it for yourselves.”
“It is indeed a difficult task,” whispered Georyn, nearly overcome. “But we will attempt it, if that is the only way to the Dragon.”
“It is the only way that can offer you even the smallest hope of success,” the Starwatcher said firmly. “Go now, and do not return without the disk.”
So Georyn and Terwyn went forth into the wood, and for a while they wandered aimlessly in despair, for they knew of no place where they might even begin to search for an enchanted disk in which the images of living men might be seen. Surely not even the King himself had ever heard of such a wonder! “I do not believe that the thing exists,” said Terwyn. “The Starwatcher is making sport of us.”
“I do not deem him a man who would d
o that,” said Georyn thoughtfully. “Nevertheless, it may well be that there is no enchanted disk and that he is simply trying to spare us death in combat with the Dragon, knowing that only through trickery can he keep us from challenging the monster. But I do not really think that is the way of it. I believe that we are meant, somehow, to accomplish this task.”
“Perhaps so,” Terwyn conceded, “but when? Ere we find a magical disk such as the one he desires, the Dragon may die of old age.”
Georyn nodded. To search without direction would, he knew, be of no avail; and besides, they had been told that the task would require wit. That could only mean that the key to its accomplishment lay within their present knowledge. Yet what did they know of enchantments? All at once it struck him: perchance there was indeed someone from whom they might learn where the disk was hidden, the Enchantress who dwelt on the other side of the forest! For the Enchantress had promised that she would aid them if the time came when they could proceed no further alone, and surely that time was now.
With renewed hope, then, the brothers pressed on until they came to the river; and they followed it to a ford from which, by late afternoon, they were able to reach the place where they had met the Enchantress. And the Lady stood there under the trees before the stone hut, with the last rays of the sun shining upon her silvery garments, and she was even more beautiful than he had remembered, Georyn thought.
Yet there was an indefinable difference about her, too. Spirited she had always been, beneath the calm dignity of her manner; but now there was a strength and an assurance in her bearing that caused Georyn to wonder how he dared think of her as he had, in his secret heart, begun to think. And as he looked at her he perceived the reason for the change, for about her neck on a silver chain there hung a brilliantly gleaming pendant of many facets, and he knew beyond all doubt that it was enchanted.
The Enchantress, following his gaze, raised her hand to the pendant and touched it; both Georyn and Terwyn stepped back in awe. “Lady, I see now the source of your power,” said Georyn respectfully. “I am dismayed before so potent a charm as that.”
She seemed quite startled, as if she had not been expecting him to recognize the thing for what it was. (But surely she knew that he was not so foolish as to think that any mortal woman, whether she were lady or princess or even queen, could possess such an ornament!) Smiling, she let the pendant drop; and as the light of the sunset touched it, it appeared to glow. “Fear it not!” she said to them. “It is indeed the Emblem of my power, but it works only for good and cannot be used to harm anyone.”
“I am very glad to hear that,” Terwyn said, “for I think now that your power is far vaster than I had dreamed.”
“Though the Emblem is mighty,” she told him, “but little of its force is at my command; for its power is not an easy one to wield.” Her voice was melodious, but her words were, as before, only meaningless sounds in themselves; the brothers heard them through their minds more than through their ears. “And you, Georyn?” she continued. “Do I surprise you also?” But she did not say how she knew his name.
“No, Lady,” Georyn replied, and as he said it he knew it for the truth. “Neither you nor your enchanted Emblem is any surprise to me, for I have known since I first beheld you that in you is a thing that I have looked for all my life; and to learn your secrets shall now be my only goal and hope.”
It’s hard now for me to recall just what did happen during that first real exchange with Georyn. Your feeling for a person who has come to mean something to you colors all your memories, so that you can’t describe them objectively. But I’m sure that right from the start I thought of Georyn not merely as a Youngling, but as someone whose friendship I would value. Even at the beginning I could communicate much more easily with him than with his brother; Georyn’s telepathic ability was just naturally greater; or, I suppose, he may already have been backing it with emotion.
The past three days had done a lot for me. I wasn’t bothered by being alone any longer; and the nights, although dark and lonesome, had been nothing like that first one. I was enjoying my leisure. The weather was bright; the river, although too cold to swim in, was beautiful to see; and I was becoming well acquainted with a family of squirrels that lived in the tree outside my hut. Though I knew, theoretically, that there were more challenges ahead, I had no anxious forebodings.
When, on the fourth day, the two Andrecians came to ask my help, I met them feeling pleasantly excited but in no way afraid. I knew that Father would not have sent them unless he was thoroughly satisfied that they were decent and trustworthy young men, as well as good candidates for the task of confronting the invaders. And, of course, he had already told me their names and as much as he could of their background.
Father and I had talked frequently by means of our communicators, and I had been carefully briefed as to exactly what I was to do and why. It was a complicated scheme. You can’t just say to an unsophisticated Youngling, “Now I am going to teach you to move objects by the power of your mind!” It requires a good deal of buildup. First, he has to believe that you do indeed have “magic” at your disposal and that it lies within his reach; to him, such things as a video communicator and a battery-powered arc light are just as magical as psychokinesis, so that’s easy. That’s not all of it, however, and the other prerequisites are much harder to arrange.
There were parts of the arrangements that I didn’t like too well. When I first heard the plan, before Father and Evrek left to establish the second camp, I objected to the testing that our protégés were to undergo, some of which would be decidedly disagreeable for them. “Do we have to scare the poor men to death?” I protested. “Must we have all this ‘prove your worthiness’ rigamarole?”
“Elana,” Father said, “if you want to train a man to do something difficult, you start by finding out how he reacts to difficulties. Aside from the fact that that’s something you’ve got to know, it’s the greatest favor you can do him, because you’re giving him a chance to make sure that he really wants to be in on the deal.”
“We don’t intend to trap anybody into this!” said Evrek. “It will change his whole life, Elana; whether he wins or loses it will. The man we use has got to be a genuine volunteer, and we mustn’t delude him by making it seem too enticing.”
He seemed surprisingly grave, almost sad. “And so it’s kindness to turn it into an ordeal?” I asked.
“Think of all we went through to get into the Academy,” he reminded me. “That wasn’t made easy, was it? Well, the principle’s just the same.”
“Yes, and as a more immediate example,” Father went on, “why do you think I had you make that first contact alone, before you were even sworn, and why did I force you to stay by yourself under circumstances that I knew would be frightening to you?”
He had me there. Because I could see, once I thought about it, that before I’d been asked to commit myself, I’d been given a taste of experience on which to base my choice.
“There’s more to it,” he continued. “For one thing, this sort of testing builds up a person’s self-confidence, and they’re going to need confidence.”
“Builds it up? I should think it might have the opposite effect!”
“Not if it’s done right. Of course, you have to have grounds for believing that a man can succeed in a test before subjecting him to it, because if he fails and suffers from it, that’s as much your fault as it is his.”
“I’m not sure that I can make that kind of judgment,” I said uncertainly.
“Of course you can’t, and you won’t need to. I’ll make those decisions, Elana. All you have to do is help carry them out.”
“Be glad you don’t have my job,” Evrek said grimly. “You’ll at least play the part of a good witch, and I’ve got to appear as a cruel one.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard for you!” I began in a bantering tone. But I stopped short, seeing his face. This was not a thing he wished to joke about.
“As a
matter of fact,” Father said, “to project, telepathically, something opposite from what you feel—in this case, to threaten—is just about the hardest acting job there is. Evrek’s role is brief but very demanding, for he’s got to be convincing enough to make these men really afraid of him.”
“I suppose so,” I conceded. “But it still seems heartless.”
“Elana,” Evrek pointed out, “all other reasons aside, no inexperienced Youngling can do anything much in the way of psychokinesis without there being emotion behind it. For that matter, can you?”
“I could if I had to!”
“But not if you didn’t have to; that’s just the point.”
“We’ve got to build in some urgency,” Father said. “At first, we’ll simply be teaching them to believe in our magic, but they’ve got to be emotionally involved right from the beginning, and fear is the most powerful emotion we can arouse.”
“You’re so cold-blooded about it!”
“That’s not true!” he exclaimed heatedly. “If I’ve given that impression, it’s got to be straightened out right now. If we don’t approach this with warmth and compassion and faith in these people as human beings, we haven’t a chance of succeeding.”
“But won’t we be tricking them, setting up threats deliberately?”
“No,” Father assured me. “There will be no deception. You and I will tell them nothing that we aren’t perfectly sincere about.” He smiled encouragingly. “Elana, fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s a natural result of aiming high.”
“Don’t forget,” Evrek added, “we’re going to give them something good, something they’ll want very much to have. Like everything else, it has its price; but they’ll pay that price by their own choice.”
It was rather hard to get used to the idea that I could tell a man that I was giving him “magic” to help him defeat a “dragon” and still be perfectly sincere about it, but by the time I’d had several encounters with the Andrecians I understood what Father meant. The language of symbols is no harder to learn than any other foreign language. The fact that Georyn literally believed the colonists’ land-clearing machine to be a dragon never interfered with our communication at all, and I never told him any lies, either. Nor did I lie to him about myself; he simply interpreted my thoughts according to his own framework of beliefs. If he credited me with “supernatural” powers, it was only because his definition of “natural” was narrower than mine.
Enchantress from the Stars Page 7
