He closed his free hand over hers. “Now I am truly honored!” he said, and with a light laugh he added, “If the Stone has so raised me in the first moment of my holdership, to what heights may I not aspire?” Then, serious again, he went on, “What are the terms, Lady? One does not receive power simply by taking a stone into one’s hand and setting forth to meet the Dragon in the next instant, whether the stone be enchanted or no.”
“No, one does not,” the Lady agreed, but as she spoke she seemed irresolute somehow. “Georyn, do you trust me—trust that I work only for your good?”
“If I did not, Lady,” he answered, “I should not trust myself either; for more than once I have placed myself totally in your hands.”
Outside, a silent rain had at last begun; the Enchantress looked away, toward the wet veil that had fallen across the hut’s open doorway, and with evident reluctance she said, “I am very glad that is the case, for your trust will now be put to trial. Georyn, the powers of the Stone are not easily bent to a man’s will. You are strong enough to wield them, I know; but you must learn, and I—I must now bewitch you in order to make that possible. But I warn you that you may not enjoy being bewitched. It will be terrifying; far more terrifying than anything you have yet experienced.”
Then Georyn’s heart chilled, for the Enchantress had always spoken truth to him and he knew that she did so now. But he was already committed and he did not regret it, so he smiled at her and said, “To be bewitched by you, Lady, is not a trial but a privilege.”
The Enchantress then took two cups that were already filled from the table behind her and gave one of them to him, holding the other herself; and she said, “So be it, then. Drink to the success of our venture!”
Georyn raised the cup, and then, seeing something not quite straightforward in her gaze, paused apprehensively. It was all too obvious that the Lady had not yet told him everything.
She sensed his question, and as she answered her voice trembled slightly. “Yes, there is a potion in it; but I swear to you that it is not an evil one, and that it will do you no lasting harm.”
Slowly, Georyn said, “If you tell me so, I will believe you; for I know that you would cast no spell over me that would lead me to peril.”
“I have never promised that, Georyn. I have told you the exact opposite: this whole affair is perilous, for you and for all of us.”
“All of us?” Georyn stared at her with distress, saying, “Surely, Lady, you do not mean that there can be any danger to yourself!”
With some hesitation she admitted, “I am in great danger simply by being in this world, so long as the Dragon remains.”
“Had I but known,” Georyn said unhappily, “I would never have desired that you should linger here. Now indeed we must make a quick end to the business. I shall drink your potion without fear; but I hope that the conclusion of the quest will not be long delayed by it.”
“The ordeal that you now must undergo is necessary to ensure your victory. It will help you to learn the uses of the Stone; but do not expect the learning to be an easy or a pleasant process. It is never so with an enchantment of any great value.”
“I am well aware of that, Lady,” said Georyn, and he drained the cup without further hesitation. Then, brushed by the first tendrils of real terror, he forced a laugh, asking, “What will happen to me now?”
The Enchantress put her hand on his, and although it was icy cold he felt a warmth spread through him. “Nothing really bad, but you will not understand it while it is happening. Trust in the Stone, however, and all will be well with you; for the Stone will give you the power to control things in circumstances where the charm alone would be useless.” She tried to smile, but all at once her composure broke, and she cried desperately, “Oh, Georyn, do not hate me for this!”
But Georyn did not hear these last words, for an enveloping blackness had come upon him, and he had fallen forward to be caught by the strong arms of the Starwatcher, who had at that moment entered the hut.
The ship came down under cover not only of darkness, but of rain. Evrek joined us; together he and Father took Georyn over to it. Georyn would not be allowed to know that there was a ship, naturally. When he regained consciousness, he would be inside, in an environment that would be totally incomprehensible to him. (This was part of the conditioning; one of the big things he was to learn was how to adjust to a foreign and unpredictable situation.) We were going to keep the ship on the ground for several hours, but it really wasn’t such a large gamble; in all the time we’d been on Andrecia, no Imperials had come our way except on that first afternoon.
“I don’t want to watch this,” I told Father.
“You’d better,” he replied. “Otherwise, you’ll picture something much worse than the actual ordeal.”
Evrek smiled at me. “It won’t be half so bad as you seem to think, Elana,” he told me. “Georyn will tell you that himself afterward. I’ll bet almost anything that he will.”
“How do you know?” I demanded irritably.
“For one thing, because your father just got through trying this setup on me, to make sure it’s working right,” he said gently. And with a puzzled frown he added, “It’s not like you to worry so much, darling.”
I turned away. He had not, of course, guessed why I worried about Georyn; and I didn’t want him to.
“Look, Elana,” Father said, “I’m not going to do anything to Georyn that I wouldn’t do to you in similar circumstances. I promise I won’t throw anything at him that he can’t handle.”
“Similar things will be done to you when you take your advanced training in psychic control,” Evrek reminded me. “And you’ll find that you won’t mind at all. Neither will Georyn, when he catches on—and he’ll catch on fast.”
I had to admit that he was probably right. And the plan was well set up to give Georyn confidence. It even included a drug-induced paralysis that would simulate the effects of the Imperials’ stunners. I knew that it was a good thing to expose him to that in advance, because though it doesn’t hurt it can really throw you the first time you experience it; we’d described it to Terwyn, but there’s no substitute for a practical demonstration. Georyn needed real proof that physical helplessness doesn’t affect the power of the mind at all.
But there was another thing about which I had serious reservations. “Father,” I said unhappily, “why must you show him this film?”
“It’s the only one I could get hold of. I don’t know what he’ll make of a travelogue showing the capital cities of the Federation; but he won’t understand enough of it for there to be any disclosure involved, that’s certain.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant. It just—just seems unnecessarily cruel, that’s all.”
“Why, Elana, I don’t think he’ll be unduly frightened by the film itself. There’ll be some bad moments when it first diverts him from the psychokinetic control he’s being forced to maintain, but that can’t be avoided, because we’ve got to teach him to split his attention.”
“If he doesn’t learn to keep control more or less automatically, on a subconscious level, he’ll be so overcome by the sight of the Imperials and their machines that he’ll lose it,” Evrek said. “Just as Terwyn did.”
Father added, “The use of a film is an efficient way of giving that lesson; and knowing Georyn, I think he’ll probably enjoy it. He may be sorry when it stops.”
I didn’t say any more. Father did know Georyn, but not as well as I knew him. Yes, he would enjoy the film, and he would be sorry when it was over. With any other Andrecian, perhaps that would be that. But Georyn, I was quite sure, would go on being sorry for a very long time.
Outside the barracks a dreary rain was falling; to Jarel it seemed of a piece with the mood of despair that had been with him ever since the ruthless killing of the native. He moved the lamp closer and bent over the paperwork on which he was trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Kevan’s words kept coming back to him: A world’s not t
amed till we’ve gotten rid of every last native … sure there’s a war! That’s what colonization is.
That was not what he had thought it was when he joined the Imperial Exploration Corps. He had thought it a noble goal to spread humanity across the galaxy, a chance to do something constructive toward the future. He had thought it self-evident that humankind should reach for the stars, and never once had he questioned the price. He had not really been aware of there being a price. The conquest of space, the growth of the Empire into a grand commonwealth of worlds—ever since he was a kid, he’d wanted to be part of that; it was a hard ideal to give up.
Yet he couldn’t close his eyes any longer, Jarel thought. Why, in fact, had he kept them closed so long? Had he sold out? Was he so anxious for an exciting, high-paying career that he could overlook any crime the Corps might commit just to stay in? Was he so crazy about planet-hopping that he was willing to trade his soul for the chance to do it?
It was not just Kevan’s callousness, not just the death of a brave young man who hadn’t looked as if he deserved to die. After all, Jarel had seen men die before. A doctor saw all kinds of suffering and couldn’t afford to be squeamish about it; he didn’t expect life to be pretty, on this world or any other. The trouble was not so much that another “savage” had been killed as that Dulard and the others had ignored the incident, as they had ignored earlier ones—ignored them because underneath they knew that what Kevan said was true. Two peoples couldn’t share a planet. It either belonged to the race that evolved upon it, or that race got wiped out. Whether it was wiped out by the first shipload of men to invade the place or by natural attrition a couple of centuries later didn’t make a whole lot of difference.
If he stayed in the Corps, Jarel knew, this wouldn’t be the last native race he would help to subdue. Even if he himself never set foot on another planet that was being grabbed, he would still be supporting the Corps’s policy, wouldn’t he, if only by default? And he was no longer so sure that the goal itself was a worthy one.
“I don’t know,” said Jarel miserably to himself. “I just don’t know anymore. Perhaps the invention of the stardrive was the blackest mark on our already black history, perhaps truly wise peoples control their population and stay home where they belong.”
It would be nice to think that all this was leading somewhere, that there was such a thing as progress after all; but when it came right down to it, he didn’t see much evidence for that. In fact, he had a suspicion that the natives were better off than the average Imperial citizen, so long as they were left alone. They were like children, he thought wistfully, no worries. No real worries at all. Oh, they fought among themselves once in a while, maybe, but in between they didn’t have to be concerned with things like world problems or visions of lands beyond their own. That village of theirs was probably a quiet, happy place. What they had there was probably worth a lot more than the so-called blessings of civilization. In fact his own people might be ahead of the game if they were still living the life nature intended on their original home world, instead of looking for others to mess up.
If he were a brave man, he decided, he would get out right now. He would walk into that forest, armed with all the medical supplies he could carry, and he would live the rest of his life among those natives. He would let the Empire go where it most assuredly was heading.
He walked to the window and looked out at the rain, thinking ruefully that he didn’t have that kind of courage. He was not cut out to be a hero, he supposed. He was not even sure that he would have nerve enough to make a dramatic break if he could save them by it! And of course he couldn’t save them; he couldn’t even save the ones locked up that he was required to guard. If he let them go, Kevan or somebody would have them rounded up in ten minutes, if they were lucky; and if they weren’t lucky they’d get blasted.
Still, Jarel decided, he still had some self-respect—too much to be associated with the Corps now that he’d seen what it really stood for. So he would request a transfer to headquarters; he would go back with the supply ship, and then, well, he would resign. It was a great dream, this star roving, but behind the window dressing it was an empty one.
When Georyn came to his senses he knew instantly that he had been transported to some strange castle of the enchanted realm, for he saw naught that resembled the world of his own experience. The room in which he found himself was small and round, and its windowless walls were of a solid blue material, without cracks of any kind. It was a dungeon, he supposed; yet it was not dark. Rather, it was lit with a brilliance not unlike that of the Lady’s globe of light, though he could see no such globe.
But the sight of the place was as nothing beside the helplessness that he felt. He was lying on his back upon a soft but unyielding couch, and he could not move so much as one finger. In no way was he bound; there were no chains, no cords, yet his body would not obey his will, and even the attempt to turn his head was of no avail. He was not dazed after the manner of a man waking from some horrific dream; his mind was alive and clear, and he knew with dismaying certainty that he was not dreaming, but was in truth immobilized. It was as if he had been turned to stone.
Turned to stone! The Enchantress had told him that he would be turned to stone temporarily when he met the servants of the Dragon. Had she then betrayed him into their hands? She would not do such a thing. Yet tonight she had seemed unsure, reluctant, and she had admitted the Dragon to be a danger to her. Could it be that she herself had been bewitched by a power stronger than her own?
At this thought Georyn’s terror nearly overwhelmed him; for if any evil had befallen the Enchantress, what possible hope could there be either for himself or for his quest? Worse, the idea of harm being done to her was unbearable. Then all at once his eye fell upon the Stone, which he now saw had been bound to his belt by means of a leather thong thrust through its hole. And the Stone comforted him, for the Lady had not been unsure when she had given it into his hands.
Had she not warned him that he would be placed in a terrifying situation that he could not hope to understand? And had she not clearly implied that the Stone would guard him from harm? It would avail little to give in to despair; he had been sent hither to learn, and learn he must if he was to benefit from that magic. Yet he knew not what powers the Stone would give him, save that it would in some manner ensure the potency of the charm that had failed Terwyn.
Looking up then, Georyn beheld a large sphere of some cold, shining substance, and it hovered above him; but as he watched, it began to fall slowly. Before long, surely, it would crush him. Perceiving that there was but one defense, he mentally formed the words of the charm and commanded the sphere to stop.
And indeed, it did stop. Yet he found that his mind must not wander, lest the sphere descend once more; and at this Georyn’s heart was again filled with dread. Never during the encounters with the dark wizard had he been able to keep control of an object for more than a few minutes. Still, perhaps the Stone would give him this strength; he could but trust that it would be so, for he had no other recourse.
Then suddenly there arose a fearsome sound, a sound that grew in intensity until it became a deafening roar like nothing ever heard upon the earth. Georyn quailed; he was pierced by sound, it was unendurable. And how could the charm help him against an intangible thing? In panic, he let his mastery of the spell falter, and to his horror the sphere came plunging down upon him. It did not crush him after all. Rather, the surface of it burned with a cold fire the very touch of which was agony.
He had not thought that such would be allowed to happen. Out of his pain came awareness that mere possession of the Stone would not protect him; the Lady had told him truly that its powers would be hard won. Seeing naught else that could offer any hope, Georyn in desperation invoked the charm again—and thereupon the pain was gone, even as the sphere rose to the top of the little chamber. So too, instantly, was the sound. Joyfully then did he realize that he could fight all that assailed him simply by controlli
ng the sphere.
But holding the thing motionless near the ceiling did not prove to be enough. All too soon the ear-shattering sound swept over him once more, and with it another sort of pain, the source of which he could not pinpoint; it was not severe, but he guessed that it would become so if he took no action. And the sphere could be raised no higher!
Georyn could not believe that the Enchantress had intended him to suffer. He was sure, therefore, that she had provided a means of deliverance and had meant him to find the way to use it. He was totally helpless physically; his mental control over the sphere was his sole weapon—so what course was open to him other than to deliberately lower that sphere? Resolutely he tried it, and at once both the sound and the pain receded, only to return as soon as he allowed the sphere’s motion to cease.
And with that, Georyn understood what was demanded of him. He was required to keep the sphere moving. Though this was a task of far greater difficulty than that of causing it to remain poised in one spot, he found himself equal to it. Knowing that it would not have been so, had he not been faced with an intolerable alternative, he perceived that there was much wisdom in the Lady’s way of teaching. In truth, there was naught to be feared in this business of being bewitched. But he was shaken with weariness now, and since the ordeal showed no signs of terminating, he was doubtless to be presented with yet another lesson.
It was not long in coming, for in the ceiling of the cell there suddenly appeared a huge window looking out upon the enchanted realm. And the scenes the window revealed were fascinating indeed, although they shifted continually in a most disquieting fashion, a fashion that seemed in no way natural. Georyn could not take his eyes from them; whether they were fair or frightening, he was inescapably absorbed. But alas, in turning his thought thither, he lost control of the sphere and was clutched by pain once more. Easily enough could he stop it by giving his attention to the charm, but time after time he was drawn irresistibly back to the wondrous view that was unfolding before him.
Enchantress from the Stars Page 16
