The secret was that important. Not just to this world, but to others; she’d said there were complicated reasons.Before, Jarel knew, he might have told someday—not the circumstances, not enough for anyone to connect it with this planet, but just the fact that there was an advanced civilization, a civilization with answers, a reason for hope. A fact that would seem helpful for people to know. But Elana had said that it would not help. And what she had said, she had been ready to back up. He knew now that he would never tell anyone a single word.
It was like nothing I’d ever imagined—the zenith of all hope, the bright pinnacle of joy that you think can never come to anyone outside of a storybook! One moment like that makes all the rest worth going through: all the peril, all the grief, and yes, even the nightmare of believing that you are going to die. None of the bad part has any importance at all beside such a thing as happened to us on Andrecia in the moment of our triumph.
I felt suspended, light, almost as if I too were floating on air! When you’re convinced that you’ll soon be dead, you are free in a way that you can never be at any other time—free in the sense that anything can happen to you and you will not mind, because you have already faced the most frightening thing there is to face. So if what happens is something good, something so good as suddenly knowing that you are going to live after all, why, that in itself is pretty tremendous. But if on top of that you know that a whole world, a whole race of people with a practically unlimited future has been rescued too, rescued because someone you love has achieved a success far beyond anyone’s highest expectations, there just aren’t words for it.
For I knew, even as I looked up at the hovering mass of rock that magically did not fall, that Georyn had saved more than my life; I knew that our mission had been fulfilled, that the invaders would leave without captives, and that the freedom of the Andrecians was now assured, at least as far as removal of this particular threat could assure it. Don’t ask me how I knew, because it really wasn’t evident at that point. Not until Jarel told me silently what his commander had said did I get any confirmation.
Father contacted me almost immediately, and the emotion that drove our thoughts was pure elation. He and Evrek, after an unsuccessful attempt to free me that I so far knew nothing of, had hidden in a dense clump of trees at the farthest edge of the clearing and had seen everything. At first our exchange was wordless; we were just plain overwhelmed. Finally I began to think a little more coherently, coherently enough to take in the marvel of it. Oh, Father—I never guessed, I never dreamed …
You did a very brave thing, Elana. Sometimes the outcome of that can surpass all hope.
The outcome of belief in magic can certainly surpass all hope, I realized dazedly. I thought of how close I’d come to taking Georyn’s away from him. Why, if nobody believed anything except what they understood, how limited we’d be!
The ecstasy didn’t last, of course. Heights of feeling never do, and in this case I still had plenty of worries left to close in on me. For in a very little while I remembered the thing that the excitement had driven from my mind, the thing I must now find courage to confess. I had broken the Oath. You shouldn’t complain, I guess, when your life has just been miraculously spared, yet the thought of my career as an agent being over before it started was a sobering one; I hadn’t expected to be around to face the music. Not that I would have acted differently if I had, but dismissal from the Service wasn’t going to be pleasant. And what if the repercussions were bad, not only for me but for Jarel’s people? Or what if Jarel told, and the colonists changed their minds about leaving? Jarel had put himself in a tough spot by stunning the man who had been about to kill Georyn. In our one brief exchange before he was taken to the ship under guard, he assured me that no matter what happened he would not explain his true reasons for doing it. Still, mightn’t they put pressure on him?
Father, you don’t know! I thought despairingly. I made a disclosure, a deliberate disclosure! I told one of the Imperials …
Don’t worry about it now. We’ll talk later.
At that moment Evrek’s thought came through to me, strong, urgent. Darling, you’re all right! Oh, Elana, when I think …
I’m all right, Evrek. Everything’s all right now. But I shied from the contact, for with Evrek and myself it was not all right, nor would it be for some time. And since it was not his fault, I did not want to ever let him know.
And there was another thing that was not all right. There was the inevitable ending. I turned to Georyn, realizing that without some explanation he couldn’t possibly appreciate the full scope of this fantastic victory. I hoped for his sake that we could get away before the man who was operating the “dragon” recovered and brought the thing to life again! So far, all the Imperials seemed to be stunned—figuratively, not literally—but there was no telling how long it would last.
They freed us quickly; not only Georyn and myself, but all the other Andrecian prisoners. They chased us out of camp, in fact! We were a threat to the very foundations of their logic, to their most deep-seated conceptions of their own power. If a man can by sheer mental force defy the laws of gravity and keep a huge mass of rock suspended in the air—suspended so that not even a pebble falls to earth in its natural fashion—what is he likely to do next? Deactivate all the blasters, perhaps? Reduce the ship and the barracks to dust? I think they thought if they ever got us inside their research center we would blow the place to smithereens and emerge unscathed. I only wish it were true! If it were, I would be glad to volunteer.
As Georyn and I started toward the forest Father’s thought came again, insistently. We’ll wait for you at the fork in the path. Let’s say in an hour. One hour from now.
An hour? What’s the delay for?
There was a slight hesitation, after which he replied, When you come, you must come alone, Elana.
He did it the best way, the kindest way. He knew that our courage was at its highest pitch, that the elation of our victory would carry us through; to have drawn it out until the next morning would have helped neither Georyn nor myself. It would have been an awful letdown. As it was, the despair, the joy, and the final sorrow were blended into one climactic memory that will never be surpassed by anything I may experience later.
And it was no shock to Georyn; he was half expecting to see me dissolve into thin air at the moment of the dragon’s death in any case. But to me, at the time, it seemed heartless. Suddenly even the parting itself seemed heartless, unnecessarily so. I tried to express what I felt lightly, not trusting myself to be forthright. Isn’t the dragon-slayer always given a reward? Doesn’t the fairy godmother always whisk him off to some fabulous castle where his every wish is magically fulfilled?
Father could see well enough what I was leading up to, and he said what had to be said. Elana, surely you know that what you’re suggesting would not be a reward for either of you.
I suppose I did know, but I wasn’t quite ready to admit it. Wouldn’t it? I persisted.
Have you forgotten that all too often the spell’s broken? The magic castle turns back into a miserable hovel and the prince’s fine raiments revert to rags?
Bitterly I responded, That may happen in any case! We’ve done something that can’t be undone, made him into something different from what he was, made him want things that Andrecia can’t give him. He will never fit here or be happy here. Aren’t we responsible for him now?
We are, yet there’s no help we can give. To take a Youngling aboard a starship is highly illegal, Elana; but that’s not why I’m refusing to do it. I would break policy if I thought good could come of it, as I have in certain other things. But it wouldn’t be good for anyone, least of all for Georyn. He would not be a hero away from his own time and place.
He’s right, I thought. Inside, I can’t deny that. Georyn would be a misfit in our world too, but at the bottom instead of at the top, and I’d be the last one to wish that on him.
There’s one more thing, Elana. You must take back
the Stone.
No! That, I won’t do!
It’s for his own protection. He may misuse it; if he does, then someday it will fail him.
It was the last straw somehow. I had been warned; I’d been told on the night I was sworn that this job can exact a rather terrible price. I was willing to pay it. I hadn’t balked at any of the big, important things.
Yet if one sort of magic can come true, why not another? Why not the “happily ever after” sort? I knew, of course, that that just isn’t the way things work. But to ask me to take Georyn’s power from him seemed one demand too many.
Hand in hand, Georyn and the Enchantress went forth from the place of the Dragon, and they came to a glade within the wood, hidden from the path along which the other freed captives were hastening. And Georyn knew that the time he had so long dreaded was now come, when the Lady must depart into the enchanted realm; and if it were not for the harm to her, he thought, he would have preferred to dwell beside her in prison than to endure this parting.
Then as they sat upon the grass, the Enchantress faced him, saying, “The Dragon has in truth been defeated by your magic and will presently depart into the dark region whence it came; no more will it ravage this land. The world is now safe for your people; so must we not rejoice, however hard this hour may be for us?”
“I rejoice indeed for the world,” he answered, “and for your escape. But I fear that not all the evil has yet been vanquished.”
“One can never vanquish all the evil,” she said. “That we should have prevailed against this much of it is a thing of wonder.”
“That is not quite what I meant,” Georyn replied, troubled. “Lady, why did you approach the Dragon as you did? It seemed almost that you sought death. Terrible indeed must have been the doom that awaited you, if the monster’s jaws were to be preferred!” But he did not voice his deepest fear, that having given up her power she might not wish to live.
Quietly she answered, “That was not the way of it; I would not have done the thing out of unwillingness to suffer, Georyn. But there are some evils against which no amount of bravery can prevail. Even before I revealed myself, I learned that if I were taken to prison, I would be forced to disclose the secrets of the enchanted realm by fell sorcery—sorcery against which I would be powerless, with the Emblem or without it.”
“I hope,” said Georyn darkly, “that the folk of this world are worth what has been risked! There are times when that seems open to doubt.”
“You jest, Georyn! You do not really have any question, do you? Such doubts rise not from wisdom but from the acceptance of half-truths.”
“Good magic would have little meaning, were there no good in men,” he conceded. “But now, your peril is ended, and you are truly free? I cannot part from you thus without knowing that you will be safe hereafter.”
“I am free and safe. You need have no fear for me.”
“But you do not smile, Lady,” he said. “And for you all is not as it would be, had you never come here.”
“No, Georyn, for I have lost the Emblem, as you know,” she said sadly. “I am no longer fit to wear it, since a wrong was done when I revealed myself, as had been foretold.”
He pressed her hand, and for a moment he knew naught but wrath at the ways of enchantments, that she should be so punished for a thing that, like all her acts, had stemmed only from her goodness. It did not seem fair! Fervently he declared, “I would give my life to restore your Emblem!”
She managed a thin smile after all. “Do not worry about me, Georyn. Twice you have saved me from far worse fates than that which I took upon myself when I saved you. There is more to my world than you have ever dreamed, and—”
Georyn broke in, saying, “I would not have you think that I would turn your sorrow to my own benefit, and yet—I must ask, Lady, for I will never love anyone as I love you. Is there no chance, now that you no longer wear the Emblem, that you could remain in my world?”
Gently she drew her hand away from his. “There is no chance. My vow still binds me, though no more shall I be trusted to serve in the same fashion; but even if that were not so, it is not possible for enchanted folk to remain long in the worlds of men. I will not deceive you: I love you—oh, how terribly I love you—but I could not live in your world for more than a little time. The stars have a hold on me; I would miss them, and I—I would be torn in two, Georyn.”
“Do not speak of it,” he begged her. “I know it. I have always known, and it was cruel of me even to ask.”
“Cruel? After what I have done to you, Georyn?”
Slowly he replied, “If by that, you mean you have shown me that which I cannot have, I would choose such cruelty over any other woman’s kindness, Lady. For it is better to know of what exists than not to know. I would rather be helpless than blind; and if in seeking wisdom as my reward I got more than I had need for, well, that is not your fault but mine, for being what I am.”
“And if you were not what you are, Georyn,” she said, “you could not have conquered the Dragon; so there is nothing for either of us to regret. We are both captives still, captives of our own worlds’ boundaries, for enchantments are not unworldly things, but only ways of seeing what is already there.”
Georyn drew forth the Stone and held it for a moment, wistfully, upon the palm of his hand. Then he extended it to the Enchantress, saying, “You must take it back, Lady. For now, without the Emblem, you need it more than I.”
“Oh, Georyn, I cannot! It may be of use to you again, someday—” She looked at him with concern. “Without it, you will have no magic powers at all, will you?”
“You know that I will not. But perhaps it is better so; for without you to guide me, I would not really know what to do with them; and as you have often told me, such things misused are perilous.”
She paused, then with reluctance admitted, “That is true, and I have indeed been directed to take back the Stone. I had thought to disobey and let you keep it, for I would not deprive you of what you have earned at such cost. But since you offer it freely, I will accept—although not for my own sake, for even without the Emblem I have the powers of my people, which are greater than you know.” Taking the Stone, she added thoughtfully, “Perhaps, Georyn, the condition of which I once told you has come true after all, since you must give up this that you have deemed necessary to your triumph.”
Puzzled, he said to her, “But, Lady, that condition was fulfilled when you sacrificed the Emblem.”
She stared at him as if such a thought had never before occurred to her. “Did you see it so?” she whispered.
“But surely. How else could I have gained the full power of the Stone? How could I have succeeded, if it had not been for that?”
To his amazement, she began to weep. He put his arms around her, and she clung to him just as a mortal maiden might have done. “Oh, Georyn,” she sobbed, “the ways of enchantments are indeed strange! I understand them no better than you, I think.”
And Georyn knew that in this moment he was the stronger, and it was for him to comfort her, presumptuous as that seemed. He held her to him and stroked her hair, and he said softly, “Do not grieve, Lady! For us to love, and weep for it, was but the price of the victory; I knew that in the beginning, and I cannot believe that you did not. Without this love I could have done nothing, and the Dragon would have overcome the world even as you said. And were that not so, still I would not choose to reject what has been for the sake of the sorrow to come.”
Thereupon he kissed her, and for a time they did not speak; but in the end she rose and said, “The time allotted me is past; shall we fail in courage now, we who have faced the fire and the Dragon? Farewell, Georyn!” And with those words she turned from him and walked out of the sunlight into the gathering mist of the wood.
Jarel lay on the bunk in the small, bare cabin, waiting for liftoff. He knew that what was ahead of him would be no picnic, and that logically he should be miserable. But somehow he couldn’t be. He felt almo
st exultant. They were pulling out. The barracks had been dismantled in short order, the equipment had been loaded onto the ship, and the rockchewer was being brought aboard. In a few more hours all that would be left of the Empire upon this world would be the black scar of the clearing.
Someday, the natives might build a city over that scar.
It had been worth it. Sure, his future prospects were at the moment pretty grim; but if the girl, Elana, could do what she had done for the sake of this thing, for the sake of the secret that must now be kept not only to protect the natives, but also, she’d said, to protect the Empire, he too could face what he must.
Thinking about it, Jarel began to understand a little. It could hurt, all right, for the existence of an advanced civilization to become common knowledge. For instance, he was going to have to practice medicine from now on knowing that everything he did was far, far behind what had been discovered elsewhere; if everybody engaged in medical research knew that, they might give up in despair. Yet if they kept on without knowing, then someday they might discover something totally new and significant just from having followed a different path, something Elana’s people had missed. Thousands of years from now, the natives of this world might do the same!
If that was how it worked, then it was worth whatever sacrifice anybody had to make. And he wasn’t about to back down, now that it depended on him.
In the old days a man who turned a stunner on one of his own shipmates might have drawn a jail sentence. For Jarel, it wasn’t going to be that simple. Perhaps if he could present a reasonable motive, his assault on Kevan might be considered a crime; but if he gave no motive, if he looked his commanding officer in the eye and disclaimed all knowledge of why he acted as he did, well, there would be no court-martial. Instead, there would be a medical inquiry.
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