by Diane Duane
“Ready,” Nita said.
They vanished.
***
Two hours by the playroom’s time, much later by Nita’s watch, she and Pralaya returned to the playroom—and Nita was never so glad to see such a boring, bland worldscape in her life, after the turbulent one she and Pralaya had just come out of. And that one had been, so her manual had warned her, more like the inside of a human body than anything else she’d worked with.
“I still feel silly for having expected to see tubes and veins and things,” Nita said, as she flopped down into one of the chairs, which, though made for a hominid, had legs that bent in different places than hers did.
Pralaya reached over to the table, picked up the kernel in two paws, and tossed it to her. Nita turned it over in her hands, found the mass-manipulation part of the construct, and twiddled with it until the chair changed shape beneath her. “And I wasn’t expecting all that sand,” she said.
“The symbolism’s a good-enough reflection of how a malignant illness like your mother’s works,” Pralaya said, curling up on the lounger next to Nita’s chair. “Scrape it away in one place, and the cells just keep breeding, filling in the gaps. And as for the tubes and organs and so on, working with them as such wouldn’t help you. It’s not your mother’s tubes you’re trying to cure; it’s all of her. A big job.”
Nita nodded, and rubbed her eyes. Finding the kernel had not been difficult, much to her relief, though it had been hidden in what seemed a world’s worth of desert, with only the occasional eroded skyscraper-peak sticking up out of the sand.
But the practice malignancy that the aschetic universe had created for her had been much more than she could handle. She had managed to get rid of the malignant cells in a large area of it, but only by brute force, rather than talking them out of what they were doing. There had been millions of them, as many of them as there had been grains of sand, and their response to Nita had been furious, a storm of self-preservation. More than once they had almost buried her under dune after rolling dune. And when she’d run out of both energy and time that could be spent in that universe, even after blasting clean a large part of that huge waste, she could feel the rest of the malignancy lying under the scorching, unfriendly sky, simply waiting for her to leave so that it could get on with what it had been doing: killing someone.
I can’t give up now, Nita thought. Yet the thought of her mother’s situation was really starting to scare her.
What if it’s all for nothing? she thought. What if even this—
She hadn’t wanted to say it to her mother, hadn’t wanted to hear it said. But half the power inherent in wizardry lay in telling the truth about things. To deny the truth was to deny your own power at its source.
“Problems?” Pralaya said quietly.
Nita paused, then nodded.
“I’m getting scared,” Nita said. “I’m beginning to think— that if what’s wrong with my mom is as bad as things were in that last universe, then I may not be able to do it.” It was hard to say, but it had to be said.
Pralaya made a little sideways tilt of his sleek head, which Nita had started to recognize as the way his people nodded.
“And willpower may not be enough,” Nita said softly. “Trying my best still may not be enough.” She swallowed hard. “Loving her, no matter how much… it doesn’t matter. It still may not be enough.”
There was a long silence. In a slightly remote-sounding voice, Pralaya said, “Running into that hard wall of impossibility is something we all do eventually.”
“It hurts,” Nita said softly. “Knowing there’s wizardry, knowing that it can do so much… but not this. It would almost have been better not to know at all.”
“That can happen,” Pralaya said to her.
She looked up, shocked, for his tone was not precisely cautionary.
“Wizardry doesn’t live in the unwilling heart,” Pralaya said, again with that slightly remote tone, “as you know. If it starts to hurt too much, you can always give it up.”
Nita sat silent in the unchanging radiance. “If I do that,” she said, “then what’s been given to me’s been wasted. The universe would die faster because I threw away what the Powers gave me to work with.”
“Of course, you’re the only one who can say whether it’s worth it,” Pralaya said. “And afterward, you wouldn’t know. Forgetfulness would come soon enough. Your mother might still die, but at least you wouldn’t feel guilty that you couldn’t stop it.”
Nita didn’t answer. She was beginning to hear more clearly something in Pralaya’s voice that she hadn’t been able to identify, really, until now, when they were alone here, in the quiet.
“But also,” Pralaya said, “you’re acting as if your mother was doing something she wasn’t going to do, anyway.”
“What?”
“Die,” Pralaya said.
Nita just looked at him. There’s something about his eyes, she thought. At first she had dismissed it as just another part of his alienness. Now, though…
“We’re all mortal,” Pralaya said. “Even the longest lived of us. Sooner or later, the bodies give up, wear out, run down. Matter-energy systems have that problem, in the universes where living beings reside. I don’t know of any solutions for that problem that are likely to do your species—or mine, for that matter—much good.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to happen now!” Nita cried. “I’m too young! My sister’s even younger! She’s going to be…” She trailed off. It was indeed going to be worse for Dairine; as if Nita could even imagine, yet, how bad it was going to be for her. “She’s going to be completely miserable,” Nita said.
“‘Wasn’t supposed to happen’?” Pralaya said. “According to whom?”
Nita couldn’t think of an answer to that.
“Twist and turn as we may,” Pralaya said softly, “sooner or later we all come up against it. We do our service to the Powers That Be, but They do not always treat us in return as we feel we deserve to be treated. And then… then we look around us and begin to consider the alternatives.”
Nita looked at Pralaya, uneasy again. He looked at her with those great dark eyes, and Nita saw a change in expression, as if someone else was looking out at her.
And suddenly she knew, she understood. Her mouth went dry.
“I know who you are,” Nita said, not caring now whether she was wrong or would feel stupid about it afterward.
“I thought you’d work it out eventually,” the Lone Power said.
They sat there in the silence for a few moments. “So that’s it?” the Lone One said after a long pause. “You’re not going to go all hostile on me?”
Nita’s mind was in a turmoil. She knew her old enemy. But at the same time, she’d never seen It like this before. It has been changing, she thought. We gave It the chance to do that, right from the start. But there was more to her reaction than just that realization. She had to admit that even through her fear and unease she was curious.
“Not right this minute,” Nita said. “Not until I understand some things. I was in Pralaya’s mind, once or twice. He’s a real wizard. He has a real life. He has a mate, and pups, and—” She shook her head. “How can you be you... and Pralaya, too?”
It looked at her with mild amusement in those big dark eyes. “The same way I do it with you,” the Lone One said.
Nita gulped.
“You know the rule: ‘Those who resist the Powers … yet do the will of the Powers. Those who serve the Powers … themselves become the Powers.’ And if you serve Them … then, if you’re not careful, you also sometimes may serve me. I’m still one of Them, no matter what They say.”
Nita didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She was remembering some more of the stricture It had quoted: Beware the Choice! Beware refusing it! She hadn’t been quite clear about what that had meant before. Now she was beginning to get an idea.
“Sooner or later,” It said, “every wizard leaves me a loophole through which I can enter. Sooner or l
ater every wizard just wants to make a deal, just that one time. Sooner or later every wizard gets tired of always having it go the way the Powers That Be—the other Powers, I mean—insist it has to go. No room for flexibility in Their way of thinking. No room for compromise. So unreasonable of Them. But wizards have free will, and they don’t always see things the Powers’ way. When they come around to that line of thinking, I’m always here.”
It stretched and scratched Itself. “For Pralaya, the loophole was curiosity. It still is; we’ve coexisted for some time. His people’s minds are constructed differently from yours. They don’t see an inexorable enemy when they see me, but part of the natural order of things. They’ve learned to accept death. Very civilized people.”
Nita had her own ideas about that.
“He’s useful,” the Lone One said. “Pralaya is a very skilled, experienced wizard. He’s had a long life; during it, various troubles have avoided him. That’s been my doing. In return, occasionally I can exploit his acceptance of me. I can slip in when he lets his guard down and handle some business of my own.”
“Like dealing with me,” Nita said.
She was controlling herself as tightly as she could, waiting for any sense that her mind was being overshadowed by the Lone One’s power against her will. But she couldn’t feel any such thing.
“Among other things,” the Lone Power said. “And if there’s going to be a deal, the structure of it is simple enough. One less wizard in the world is worth something to me. Your mother’s life is worth something to you.” Pralaya shrugged. “Over your short career, you’ve been something of an irritant to me. But not so much so that I’m not willing to do you a favor in order to get rid of you.”
Nita stared at it. “You’re telling me that if I give up my wizardry … you’ll save my mother’s life.”
“Yes.”
Nita swallowed. “Why do I have a real hard time believing you?”
It gave her a whimsical look. “So I bend the truth sometimes. One of the minor uses of entropy. What do you expect of me? I use what tools I’ve been left. And the one I invented always works the best. It’s working here and now, while we sit here talking. The malignant cells from your mother’s tumor are spreading all through her cerebrospinal fluid right this minute, just the way they have been for months; bedding down in all the nooks and crannies of her brain and settling into her spine, starting to eat her nerves alive.” It smiled slightly. “Cute little machines that they are. Life thinks it can overcome everything, but in some ways it’s too smart and strong for its own good. This is one of them.”
Nita’s mouth was bone-dry with fear. “Why should you keep your word once you’ve given it?”
The Lone One laughed. “Why shouldn’t I? You think one ordinary mortal’s life means that much to me? But a wizard—that’s another story. You people cause me no end of grief, even over your little lifetimes. I run around and try again and again to kill you, or just to keep you from undoing my best work. It takes up too much of my time. Now here’s a thing that’s easy for me to do. You come to terms with me, and I call off your mother’s cancer. Because you’ve willingly, consciously come to terms with me, by the Oath you swore, you then lose your wizardry. One less problem for me in the universe, afterward. Maybe more than just one less.”
“It’s a trick,” Nita said.
“Not at all,” the Lone Power said. “You don’t believe me? Fine. You go right on inside your mother as planned. Take Pralaya with you, even; he’ll be glad to help. But I’m telling you, you’re still going to find it too much for you. The malignancy will win in the end.” The Lone One shrugged again. “But I’m even willing to let you try to beat me fair and square, and fail, and I’ll still do you that last favor afterward… if you agree to the price.”
The price. The words echoed. Suddenly Nita found herself wondering whether this encounter itself was the price that the manual had so far failed to specify.
And she was becoming cold inside at the thought that perhaps just by sitting here this long and listening to the Lone One, she had already paid it.
“What if I refuse?” Nita said.
“I couldn’t care less,” the Lone Power said. “Stretch your power to the uttermost. It won’t help. The operation will end, and the doctors will get that big tumor out, all right. But it won’t matter, because the malignant cells still scattered all over your mom’s insides, the ones too well hidden to find or too tough for the radiation or the chemo to kill, won’t have listened to anything you have to say. The secondary tumors will already be forming elsewhere in her brain and spine. Maybe even elsewhere, if they get aggressive enough. You’ll have maybe another month or two with her, while she gets sicker all the time, constantly twisted up with seizures, suffering more and more brain damage that more surgeries can’t fix or stop. Or maybe you’ll overextend yourself in the wizardry and leave your mother having to deal with the reality of your death, while her own is creeping up on her. Nice going-away present, that.”
If Nita had felt cold before, it was nothing to how she felt now. She could find nothing to say.
“Don’t make up your mind right away,” the Lone Power said. “Think about it. You’ve got plenty of time. Until the morning after next, at least. And then you can slip inside your mother, find her kernel, the software of her soul, and do your best.”
“And you’ll make sure I fail!”
“Far be it from me to be so unfair,” the Lone Power said, and folded Pralaya’s middle arms, leaning back in the lounger. “There’s, oh, a chance in a million or two that you can save her. But your inexperience means that you’ll have to do it by brute power, fueled by despair. And you’ll almost certainly die, either doing it or trying to.”
Nita was silent.
“It’ll be a lot easier my way,” the Lone Power said. “You go in, you fail… and then you agree to my price and I call off my little friends. Spontaneous remission, the doctors will all say afterward. Miracle cure! Everybody will be happy. Most especially your dad.” Nita gulped again. “And as for you, you just don’t do any more wizardry. Your mother doesn’t even have to know about it. Or you can tell her that you had to use up all the wizardry in you for this one big job—while you still remember what you were, anyway. You’ll be amazed how soon she stops bringing up the subject at all.”
Pralaya scratched his tummy with his middle legs. “But then mortals always get so twitchy about magic, anyway. No matter what you’ve told your mother since she found out about it, she’s never been entirely sure that you didn’t get the wizardry somewhere, well, unhealthy.” The Lone Power smiled at Nita, and the look was supremely ironic. “You’ll be able to relieve her and your father of their concerns once and for all. And indirectly, their concerns about your little sister. I doubt even Dairine is going to rub their noses in her continued practice of wizardry when you’ve forgotten all about it. She’ll go undercover, and you’ll all be just a normal happy family again.”
Except for all the things that will never again be right, no matter how normal we seem.
Nita sat there feeling numb. “Just how are the other Powers letting you get away with this kind of thing?” she asked at last.
“They can’t stop me,” It said. “Not without undoing all of creation. And They’re not willing to do that. Oh, there are some pocket universes where They have one or another of my aspects bound. You’ve seen one of those—on your Ordeal.” It shrugged. “But I can’t be confined to such places. The power of creation was given into my hands, once, and the willing gifts of Gods cannot be taken back after they are given. So I am still part of everything created, one way or another. And will be, until it all ends. But that’s a long way ahead of us.” It stretched. “There are more immediate concerns. You’ll let me know what you decide, sooner or later. And if you pay my price, your mother will live.”
It got up and stretched again. “I’ll take my host home,” the Lone One said. “It doesn’t do for me to overshadow him for too long a
t a time; he might get suspicious. You’ll decide what to do. And when you head out to do your final intervention, you’ll find Pralaya waiting for you, ready to help you out—one way or the other.”
Pralaya’s transit circle appeared at his feet. “But one way or another,” the Lone Power said, “I suggest you make your peace with the other Powers That Be. Your relationship with them isn’t likely to last in its present form for much longer.”
And Pralaya stepped through his circle, and vanished.
Nita sat there alone in stunned silence for a long, long while, thinking. Finally she got up and prepared her own transit circle, wanting more than anything else just to go home, where things would seem normal again, where she could get a little rest and try to work out where the truth lay.
But the image of her mother lying pale and stricken in the hospital bed kept coming before her eyes, and Nita was afraid that she had already made up her mind.
***
It was late when she got back home, and the sight of her darkened bedroom seemed to suck the energy out of her. Nita fell onto the bed and lay there in desperate weariness, while her mind raced. For what seemed like hours, though it was probably only a few minutes, she tried to find a way out of the bargain she was being offered—any way out.
She couldn’t find one. I need another viewpoint, she thought. But it was too late to talk to Kit.
And I need Pralaya, she thought. That extra dose of ability, his talent at seeing and analyzing the alternate universes. He was good at it, there was no question of that. She was going to need all the help she could get.
But Kit is going to want to come, she thought. I can’t stop him. And, oh, I do need his help.
But he was even less experienced at this business of manipulating kernels than she was. And if he does come along, when he sees Pralaya, what if he realizes who’s hiding inside him?
The details of this bizarre relationship were still making her head go around in circles. Up until now the Lone Power usually had manifested itself in displays of brutal and destructive power. Nita knew perfectly well that It could be subtle when It pleased. But she hadn’t pictured anything like this. And regardless of the mechanism by which It had subverted this wizard, if Kit recognized Its presence in Pralaya, he was going to be furious that Nita was still working with him. He’s not going to understand what I’m up against here, she thought.
