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MIND’S EYE CRYSTALS

Horris Kew trudged along the road to Sterling Silver whistling nervously in the midday sun. Another few miles, two or three at most, and then they would see. Anticipation mingled with trepidation and caused a serious burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was sweating profusely, and it was from more than the heat. The tic in his eye jumped wildly. He looked like he was juggling invisible balls.

He gave an anxious glance over his shoulder. No problem, everything was in place. The pack mule was still tethered to the other end of the rope he held, plodding obediently after. The twin chests were still roped tightly in place on the carry rack. Biggar was still perched atop them.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Horris,” the myna said.

“I was just checking,” he replied irritably.

“Don’t bother. That’s why I’m back here. You just keep walking. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Try not to fall on your face.”

Horris Kew turned crimson. Try not to fall on your face! Ha, ha! Big joke!

Still looking over his shoulder, he opened his mouth to tell the bird to shut up, tripped, and promptly fell on his face. The road was dusty and dry, and he plowed a fair-size furrow in it with his nose and came up with a mouthful of grit. He heaved himself back to his feet and spit angrily.

“Don’t say anything, Biggar!” he snapped, and began brushing himself off. His scarecrow body performed a series of violent contortions as he worked to get clean. “There was a rut! A rut! If you hadn’t distracted me, I would have seen it and been all right!”

Biggar sighed wearily. “Why don’t you just conjure us up a carriage and we could ride to the castle, Horris? Or maybe a horse. A horse would do.”

“A horse! Great idea, a horse!” Horris clenched his hands angrily. “We’re supposed to be supplicants, you idiot! Poor, penniless supplicants! Remember the plan?”

The mule yawned and brayed loudly. “Shut up!” Horris screamed furiously.

Biggar blinked and cocked his head thoughtfully. “Let me see. The plan. Ah, yes. The plan. I remember it now. The one that isn’t going to work.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Don’t say what? That the plan isn’t going to work?”

“Shhhh!” a frantic Horris cautioned, tucking his head down between his shoulders for protection, glancing hurriedly about. His eye jumped. “It could be listening!”

“Who, the Gorse? Out here, in the midday sun, in the middle of nowhere?” Biggar sniffed. “I hardly think so. It’s a night creature and not given to prolonged exposure to sunlight. Vampiric, I think they call it.”

Horris glowered at him. “You’re mighty brave when it isn’t around, aren’t you?”

“I’m merely making a point.”

“I didn’t notice you making it last night. I didn’t notice you saying anything about the plan not working when it was explained to us.”

“So you believe the plan is a good one, do you, Horris? Is that right? You think it will work?”

Horris tightened his jaw defiantly, standing in the middle of the road facing mule and bird, fists on hips. He was a boxer leading with his chin. “Of course it will work!” he declared.

Biggar sniffed in obvious disdain. “Well, there you are. I rest my case. What is the purpose of my arguing with this creature, this Gorse, if you’re going to stand around nodding in agreement with every cockeyed idea it comes up with? What am I supposed to do, Horris? I can’t protect you from yourself. You won’t listen to anyone when you’re like this. Certainly not me. After all, I’m just your pet bird.”

Horris gritted his teeth. “Pets are supposed to revere their masters, Biggar. When do you think you might start doing that?”

“Probably when I get a master who’s worth the effort!”

Horris let his breath out with a hiss. “This isn’t my fault! None of this is my fault! The Gorse is here because of you! You were the one who summoned it up in the first place!”

Biggar clacked his beak. “You were the one who did the conjuring, if I recall!”

“You told me what to say!”

“Well, you didn’t have to say it!”

Horris threw down the rope to the mule. He was trembling all over. It was hot standing around in the midday summer sun, out of the shade of the forest trees, on a dry and dusty road. The robes he wore—a supplicant’s robes—were coarse and sweat-stained and they stank. He had been walking since sometime after midnight because the Gorse wanted him at the gates of Sterling Silver just before sundown of today so that they would have to admit him into the castle for the night. He was tired and hungry (no food if you were a supplicant either, unless you could stand eating those detestable Bonnie Blues), and his patience was exhausted.

“Look, Biggar.” He addressed the bird as calmly as he could. “I’m all done arguing with you. You had your chance to say something before this and you didn’t. So you listen up. The plan will work, got it? It will work! You might not think so and maybe I don’t either, but if the Gorse says it will work, it will!”

He bent forward like a reedy tree in a high wind. “Did you see how easily it got rid of Holiday? And Strabo and Nightshade? Like that, Biggar!” He snapped his fingers dramatically. “It has a lot of power, in case you hadn’t noticed. With King, witch, and dragon gone, who’s going to challenge it? That’s why the plan will work. And that’s why I don’t intend to ask any foolish questions!”

The bird faced him down. “You ought to listen to yourself, Horris. You really should. Got rid of Holiday and the witch and the dragon like that, did it?” He clacked his beak to mimic the other’s emphasis. “Did it ever occur to you that it could get rid of us just as easily? I mean, what does it need with us anyway? Have you asked yourself that? We’re errand boys, Horris. That’s all we are. We’re running around doing things it can’t do for itself, but once we’ve done them, what then? If this so-called plan works, what does it need with us afterwards?”

Horris Kew felt a sudden lurch in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Biggar was right. He could still see Holiday and the witch and the dragon being sucked down into the Tangle Box. He could still see them fighting to get free before disappearing into the mists. When he had picked up the box, it seemed as if he could feel them batting around inside like trapped moths. He wondered what the Gorse had done with the Tangle Box after Horris had carried it back to the cave. He wondered if there was room inside for any more prisoners.

Horris swallowed hard. “Don’t worry, the Gorse needs us all right,” he insisted, but he didn’t sound so sure now.

“Why?” Biggar snapped.

“Why?”

“Don’t repeat me, Horris. I’ve warned you about that. Yes, why? Better ask yourself another question while you’re at it. If it plans to give us all of Landover, what does it plan to give itself? And don’t tell me it’s doing this as a philanthropical undertaking. Don’t tell me it doesn’t want anything for itself. This plan is leading up to something, and so far it’s not telling us what!”

“Okay! Okay!” Horris was on the defensive now. “Maybe there is something more than what we’re being told. Sure, why not? Say, I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you ask it, Biggar? If you’re so worried, why don’t you just ask it?”

“For the same reason you don’t, Horris! I don’t fancy getting dispatched like Holiday and the others!”

“But it’s okay for me to chance it, is that it?”

“While it needs you, it is! Think with your brain, Horris! It won’t do anything to you while it needs you! It’s afterwards that you have to start worrying!”

Horris stamped furiously. Dusty streaks of sweat ran down his narrow, pointed face. “That hardly helps us now, out here on the road, almost to the gates of the King’s castle, does it?” he yelled angrily. “Got any other useful suggestions?”

Biggar ruffled his feathers anew, his dark eyes flat and hard. “Matter of fact, I do. This whole plan depends on whether or not the magic it gave us works. If it doesn’t, the wizard and the dog are going to have us thrown into the darkest dungeon they can find. Holiday was our only ally when we were here before, and he’s long gone. No one is going to be in a very good mood with him missing. So what if the magic doesn’t work, Horris?”

Horris Kew glowered menacingly. “I’m getting tired of this, Biggar. In fact, I’m getting tired of you.”

Biggar looked unimpressed. “I say we try one out and see if it works before we walk into the lion’s den.”

The glower deepened. “The Gorse told us not to do that, remember? It warned us explicitly.”

“So what?” the bird pressed. “The Gorse isn’t the one taking all the risks.”

“It said that whatever we did, we were not to use them! It was pretty emphatic, as I recall!” Horris was shouting. “Suppose it isn’t kidding, Biggar? Suppose—just suppose now—that it knows what it’s talking about! After all, whose magic is it, you idiot?”

Biggar spit—not easy for a bird. “You are foolish beyond anything I could have imagined, Horris Kew. You are incredibly stupid. And myopic to boot. And, even for a human, exceedingly gutless!”

Horris charged him then, his temper frayed past its limits, his anger exploding through him. Roaring like an enraged lion, he came at Biggar with every intent of tearing him wing from wing. But Biggar was a bird, and birds can escape humans every time simply by flying off, which is what Biggar did now, a casual, lazy lifting into the air so that he circled just out of reach of the leaping, grasping, would-be conjurer. What Horris did succeed in doing was frightening the pack mule within an inch of its life so that it bolted back into the forest to disappear in a cloud of dust with a mighty, terrified bray.

“Oh, drat it, drat it, drat, drat, drat!” Horris mumbled, among other less printable things, when he finally calmed down enough to realize what he had done.

It took him, even with Biggar’s help, an hour to round up the mule and the precious chests it carried. Exhausted, sullen, and bereft for the moment of any other plan, the conjurer and the bird continued their journey.

It was nearing sunset when they finally arrived at the gates of Sterling Silver.

Questor Thews was at his wit’s end. Three days had passed since Ben Holiday had disappeared and there was still no sign of him. The escort that had accompanied the High Lord to the Heart had ridden directly back to the castle after losing him, and Questor had been able to dispatch a search party immediately. Those sent had scoured the area surrounding the Heart and then the whole of the countryside beyond. There wasn’t a trace of the High Lord. Jurisdiction was found grazing where Holiday had apparently left him and that was it. There was evidence of a disturbance at the Heart—some frayed banners, some scorched seats and rests, a little dirt kicked up—but nothing that you could put a name to and nothing that could help explain what had happened to Holiday. Questor had gone out himself to take a look. He could feel the presence of used magic in the air, but there was so much magic concentrated there anyway that it was impossible to decipher what these odd traces meant.

In any case, Ben Holiday was nowhere to be found. Questor Thews had moved quickly to keep that fact a secret, ordering the guards of the escort and the search party not to speak of the matter to anyone. That was like sticking your finger in a leaking dike, however, as Abernathy was quick to point out. News of this sort could not be kept secret for long. Someone was bound to talk, and once word got out that the High Lord was really and truly gone, there would be trouble for sure. If the River Master didn’t start it, the Lords of the Greensward surely would—especially Kallendbor of Rhyndweir, the most powerful of the Lords and an implacable enemy of Ben Holiday’s. Kallendbor, more than any of Landover’s nobles and leaders, had resented the loss of power that Holiday’s coronation had cost him. On the surface, he acknowledged Holiday’s sovereignty and obeyed his commands. Inside, he simmered like something kept cooking too long. There were others as well who would welcome news of Ben Holiday’s removal, whatever the circumstances, and Questor knew he had to do something to put the rumors to rest at once.

He came up with a rather ingenious plan, one he shared only with Abernathy and the kobolds, keeping the number who knew the truth to a manageable four. What he did was to have Abernathy call off the search and announce that the High Lord had returned safely. To convince those quartered at the castle that the announcement was valid and not a further rumor, he used magic to create an image of Ben Holiday passing along the castle ramparts at midday where he could be clearly seen by those below. He even had him wave. He repeated his creation several times, making sure that there were plenty of witnesses. Sure enough, the word got passed along gossip-quick.

In the meantime, Questor used every spare minute available (which wasn’t nearly enough) employing the quick travel magic of the Landsview to scour the countryside in search of Holiday. His efforts yielded nothing. There was no sign of the High Lord.

Of course, life at Sterling Silver went on, Holiday or no, and it was important that what needed to be done got done, and that it got done as if Holiday were doing it. This was a whole lot tougher to accomplish than the conjuring up of an image or two. Since Holiday wasn’t there to see any of a large number of representatives and officials who had come from every quarter of Landover, Questor Thews and Abernathy were forced to see them for him and to pretend that they had been requested to do so. Some of those visiting had traveled great distances to see the High Lord. Some had been summoned. None among them was much pleased at being put off. Questor resorted to increasingly desperate efforts to quell any suspicions. He forged the High Lord’s name on orders. He passed out gifts. He issued awards and citations of merit. He even tried using his magic to throw the High Lord’s voice from behind a curtain. This effort produced a woman’s voice and caused those listening to stare at each other incredulously—who was this woman back there with the High Lord?—and Questor was forced to salvage the situation by claiming it was a serving girl who had mistaken Holiday for an intruder. Some of his magic still needed work.

There was also the matter of Willow’s absence, which the High Lord had failed to explain before disappearing himself, so that now not just one person was missing, but two. But since Holiday hadn’t seemed unduly concerned about Willow going off, Questor decided he needn’t worry either, at least not just now. Really, the only reason for finding her—since he had no particular reason to worry if she was safe—was to tell her about the High Lord’s disappearance. Questor decided he didn’t need that additional complication in his life. If Holiday hadn’t been found by the time the sylph returned, Questor would break the news to her then. There was, after all, only so much he could do.

Which, at the moment, wasn’t nearly enough. Trying to split his time between the requirements of his duties and the demands of his machinations was beginning to take its toll. He was hardly in the mood then to hear the news that Abernathy carried on appearing at the door to his work chamber just before sunset of that third day.

“Horris Kew and his bird are back,” the Court Scribe announced with something less than enthusiasm.

Questor looked up from the stack of paperwork visited on him in the High Lord’s absence and groaned. “Again? What does that wastrel want now?”

Abernathy stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Even for a dog, he looked put upon. “He wishes to speak with the High Lord—what else? Isn’t that everyone’s reason for being alive these days? And do not bother telling me to send him away. Although I would love to do so, I cannot. He is cloaked in supplicant’s robes; I have to admit him.”

Questor pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging the temples. “Did he say what he wants, by any chance?”

“He said it was important, nothing more. He did not mention his exile, if that is what you are asking.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m asking! I barely know what I’m doing!” The wizard looked as if he were trying to tear at his beard. “You know, Abernathy, I am very fond of the High Lord. Very. I recruited him myself, if you recall. I saw something special in him, and I was not mistaken. He was the King we had all been looking for, the King Landover needed to become whole again.”

He came to his feet. “But, really, I wish he would stop disappearing so often! How many times has he done this now? I don’t know how he can be so inconsiderate of us. Going off in the middle of the night, just riding out without a word, leaving us to try to cover for him until he comes back. I must tell you, I find it exceedingly aggravating!”

Abernathy looked away and cleared his throat. “Well, in all fairness, Questor Thews, some of those disappearances were not the High Lord’s fault. I am quite certain he would have preferred that they had never happened.”

“Yes, yes, I know. My brother and all. The black unicorn.” Questor brushed the explanation aside. “Still, a King has responsibilities, and they should not be taken lightly. A King should consult with his advisors on these things. That’s what advisors are …”

He stopped abruptly. “You don’t think he’s been kidnapped, do you? Wouldn’t there have been a ransom demand by now? Unless Nightshade has him. She wouldn’t bother with a ransom demand. She would simply eliminate him! But why wouldn’t the Paladin protect him against her? Why wouldn’t the Paladin come to his rescue—”

“Questor Thews.” Abernathy tried to interrupt.

“—whatever sort of danger he was in? What sort of protector leaves his master—”

“Wizard!” the dog snapped irritably.

Questor jumped. “What? What is it?”

“Stop carrying on so, for goodness’ sake! What is the point of it? We have no idea what has become of the High Lord, but it certainly does not help him if we lose our heads. We have to remain calm. We have to carry on as if he were still here and in the meantime hope he shows up.” Abernathy took a deep breath. “Have you found anything in the Landsview?”

Questor, duly chastened, shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Perhaps you should send Bunion to look about. A kobold can cover more ground than any twenty search parties and make no disturbance doing it. Bunion can track anyone. Perhaps you should let him try to track Holiday.”

“Yes.” Questor nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, perhaps so.”

“In the meantime,” Abernathy continued, resisting the urge to scratch at something low down on his body with his hind leg, “what about Horris Kew?”

Questor pressed at his temples again, as if reminded of a headache he had momentarily forgotten. “Oh, dear. Him. Well, he can’t see the High Lord, of course. Confound it, why does he have to see anyone?”

“He doesn’t,” Abernathy answered, “but if I read the depth of his determination correctly, he will keep trying until he does. I do not think he will simply go away.”

Questor sighed. “No, I don’t suppose he will.” He paused thoughtfully. “Abernathy, do you think I look anything like that man?”

Abernathy stared. “What an odd question.”

“Well, it bothers me that I might. I mean, we are both in the conjuring business, aren’t we? And sometimes they say that all conjurers look alike. You’ve heard that, haven’t you? Besides, we’re both rather tall and slight of build and at times awkward, and we both have rather prominent noses and … well, sharp features …”

Abernathy held up one paw deliberately. “You look as much like Horris Kew as I look like his bird. Please, no more of this. Just decide if we see them tonight or not. I suggest we do not put it off.”

Questor nodded. “No, I agree. Let’s get it over with.”

They went out of the room, down the hall, and descended two flights of stairs to where visitors were kept waiting until they could be received. They made a strange pair, the white-haired, gangly wizard with his colorful patched robes and the dog with his shaggy coat and fastidious dress. Questor grumbled the whole way, griping about this, bemoaning that, keeping such an edge on things that at last Abernathy was forced to ask him in rather rude fashion to be quiet. Two old friends whose shared history made them inseparable in spite of themselves, they could track each other’s life steps as if the paths were already laid out before them.

“You know, Abernathy,” the wizard confided, as they reached the ground floor of the castle and prepared to turn into the front hall. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Horris Kew had something to do with Holiday’s disappearance. It’s just the sort of thing he would precipitate with his unbalanced magic, conjuring up trouble here and there, all willy-nilly. But he doesn’t have that kind of power!” He thought it over. “He doesn’t have enough brains either.”

Abernathy sniffed. “It doesn’t take brains to be dangerous.”

They walked down the front hall to the anteroom where Horris Kew and his bird would be waiting and stepped inside.

Horris rose from the bench on which he had been sitting. The bird was perched on the back of the bench, sharp-eyed and sleek. Next to them on the floor rested two iron-bound wooden trunks.

“Questor Thews and Abernathy!” Horris Kew exclaimed with what seemed excessive delight. “Good evening to you! Thank you for coming to see me so quickly. I am deeply appreciative.”

“Horris, let’s skip past the pleasantries, shall we? What are you doing back here? As I recall, you were told to come back when the High Lord sent for you. Has he done so without my knowledge?”

The conjurer smiled sheepishly. “No, regrettably, he has not. I continue to live in hope and expectation.” He brightened. “That is not why I have come, Questor. I am here for another reason entirely. I have some very exciting news to share.” He paused and glanced past them hopefully. “I don’t suppose that the High Lord is about?”

Questor grimaced. “Not at the moment. What is this news you bring, Horris? Nothing dealing with farm animals, I trust.”

“No, no,” the other answered quickly. “I remember my promise and I will not break it. No conjuring. No, this is something else entirely.” Again he paused. “May I confide it to you, to the two of you, as Court Wizard and Scribe, since the High Lord is otherwise occupied?”

Questor said something in response, but Abernathy was looking at the bird. Was he losing his mind or had he heard the bird snicker? He glared at the myna, but the myna simply ruffled its feathers indifferently and looked away.

“Well, then,” Horris Kew declared, and cleared his throat officiously. “There are times, more than a few I might add, when stress from work and the burden of our obligations wears us down and we find we need some sort of amusement or diversion to relax us. I am sure you will agree that this is true. I speak now not just of the high-born, but of the common man, the workers in the fields and factories, in the markets and shops of our farms and cities. I speak of every man and woman, of every boy and girl all struggling to make their lives a better and more productive—”

“Get to the point, Horris,” Questor interrupted wearily. “It has been a long day.”

Horris paused, smiled, and shrugged. “Indeed. A diversion, then. A way of removing stress from our lives for a few hours. I believe I have found something that will provide that relief.”

“Very commendable,” Abernathy snapped. “But someone already made that discovery quite a long time ago. They are called games. Sometimes they are played in groups, sometimes by a single individual. There are all forms of them. Have you discovered a new game? Is that what you are here about?”

Horris Kew laughed politely, though he seemed to be doing so through clenched teeth. “Oh, no, this is not about games. This is something else entirely.” He paused, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “A mind’s eye crystal!” he whispered hoarsely.

“A what?” Questor Thews demanded, his brow furrowing.

“A mind’s eye crystal,” the other repeated carefully. “Do you know of it?”

Questor did not, but he did not want to admit to being ignorant of anything to Horris Kew. “A little something, perhaps.” He pursed his lips. “But tell me about it anyway.”

“A crystal,” Horris said, holding up a single finger. “A crystal that you look into as you would a mirror. And when you do, it shows you images of the past and of the future, images of yourself and those you love. The images are pleasant and welcome, and they take you away from your troubles for a time. The perfect diversion from your cares.” He rubbed his hands. “Here, let me show you.”

He reached into his supplicant’s robes and pulled forth a crystal to hold up before them. It was about the width and length of an average thumb, five-sided, pointed at one end, flat at the other, and clear enough to see through.

“Would you like to try it?” he asked Questor Thews, and held out the crystal for the wizard to take.

“Wait a minute.” Abernathy was between them instantly. “This thing is magic, is it?”

Horris nodded calmly. “It is.”

“I thought you said you would give up conjuring unless asked. You swore to the High Lord that you would give it up, in fact. What happened to your vow, Horris? Where did this crystal come from if you did not conjure it up?”

Horris Kew held up his hands in a placating manner. “I have not broken my vow, Abernathy. This”—he held forth the crystal a second time—”was shown to me in a dream. I was asleep in the deep woods … uh,” he hesitated, “north. I was asleep, having fasted and contemplated the misdealings and mistakes of my life all day after returning from my visit here, and I dreamed. In my dream I was shown this mind’s eye crystal. It was a vision of great power. It told me of the crystal and where it might be found. It told me to seek it out. When I woke, I was compelled to do so. I did and I found it as promised. Knowing that I have not as yet had my exile lifted, I felt compelled to bring it to you.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “I admit I hoped that it might in some small way influence you to take me back.”

Abernathy was not impressed. He stood his ground, dog face fixed and dog eyes searching. There was a lie in here somewhere, he was sure of it. “You have never, in your entire life, employed a magic that did not end badly for anyone who came into contact with it. I cannot believe that this mind’s eye crystal will be any different.”

“But I am not the same man!” Horris Kew protested with a dramatic gesture. “I have changed, Abernathy. I have repented my former life and resolved to follow a different path. This crystal is my first step down that path.” He drew himself up. “Tell you what. Why don’t you try it out first, instead of Questor Thews? That way if there is a problem, Questor can use his formidable magic to do with me as he will. Surely you agree he is more than a match for me in case this is some sort of trick. And anyway, why would I chance anything so foolish this close to the dungeons into which you have already indicated you would like to see me thrown?”

He had a point. Abernathy hesitated. “I would not put anything past you, Horris,” he muttered.

“Hooray for Horris, hooray for Horris!” the bird cawed suddenly, and clacked its beak.

Abernathy glared at the bird. “What do you think, Questor Thews?” he asked, and glanced back at the other.

The wizard’s mouth was a tight line. “There are guards all about. If this goes awry, Horris goes into the keep and stays there. I stand ready if there is magic to be combated.” He shook his head. “It’s up to you, Abernathy.”

“You will not be sorry,” Horris offered, advancing the crystal another few inches toward the scribe. “I promise.”

Abernathy sighed. “Very well. Anything to put this matter to bed. What do I do?”

Horris was beaming. “Just take the crystal, hold it in your hand, look into it, and think happy thoughts.”

Abernathy grimaced. “Good grief. All right, give it to me.”

He reached out, took the crystal from the other’s hands, held it up before him, and stared into it. Nothing happened. Sure enough, Abernathy thought disdainfully. No surprise here. He was supposed to think happy thoughts, though, so he tried to picture something that would make him feel good and came up with an image of Horris and his bird in a dungeon cell. That made him feel better right away, he decided, and started to smile in spite of himself.

In the next instant the crystal brightened and locked him into it, drawing his gaze into its multi-faceted depths, pulling him out of himself and down into its suddenly brilliant light. He gasped. What was he seeing? There was something there, something wondrous, something familiar …

Abernathy saw it clearly then. There was a man in the light, striding out to greet the day from his home, waving hello to friends, calling out to passersby. The man was carrying books in his arms and was on his way to his day’s work. He wore glasses and was dressed in the ceremonial clothing of a Court Scribe.

No!

The man was Abernathy as he used to be. Abernathy as a human being. Abernathy before he had been turned into a dog. Himself, once more.

Sudden joy surged through the dog as he watched, a happiness he had not felt for years. He was himself again in the crystal’s image! He was restored! It was his greatest wish in life, to become the man he had been—a wish he had not dared even contemplate upon discovering that Questor Thews, having turned him into a dog, could not turn him back into a man. Countless attempts to remedy the situation had failed, and Abernathy had given up all hope. But now, here, in this crystal’s image, was a chance to feel again what it was like to be a man! He could sense the other’s body—as if it were his own. He could experience anew what it was to be human.

The emotions the magic generated were too powerful to bear all at once. He closed his hand quickly about the crystal and snatched the vision away. He could barely breathe. “How did you do that?” he whispered in disbelief.

“I did nothing,” Horris Kew responded promptly. “And we could not see what you saw. Only the holder of the crystal sees the vision. It is his own, personal revelation, private and inviolate. Do you understand now the uses for such a magic?”

Abernathy nodded, thinking of how wonderful it would be to call up that image of himself anytime he wanted to remember what his life had once been like. “Yes, I do,” he replied softly.

Now it was Questor who pushed forward. “This thing works?” he asked, turning his old friend about, seeing the look in his eyes. “Well, indeed, I guess it does. Are you all right?”

Abernathy nodded, unable to speak, thinking again of what the image had shown him, of himself restored to who and what he had been. He was fighting hard to stay calm, to keep what he was feeling inside.

Neither saw the brief glance exchanged by Horris Kew and Biggar. Well, well, the glance said.

“You can appreciate the enormous potential for this magic,” Horris said quickly. “Escape from the drudgery and stress of everyday life is only a moment away if you possess a mind’s eye crystal. No group participation required, no equipment needed, no time necessary. Use the crystal on a break from your work and return refreshed!” He smiled benevolently. “Don’t you feel happy and rested, Abernathy?” he pressed.

Abernathy swallowed. “Yes,” he agreed. “I do.”

“There you are, then!” Horris beamed. “Abernathy, this crystal is yours. I want you to have it. A gift, for giving me a chance to fulfill my hopes.”

“Thank you, Horris,” Abernathy replied, genuinely pleased, already envisioning his next look into the light. All suspicions of the conjurer’s motives were forgotten. “Thank you very much.”

“You see,” Horris continued, anticipating Questor Thews, who was about to offer a further objection, “I have a few more of these to give out. Quite a few more, in fact.”

He turned to one of the iron-bound trunks, released the catch, and threw open the lid. The trunk was filled to the brim with mind’s eye crystals.

“Thousands of them,” he offered, making a sweeping gesture. “The vision showed me one, but when I followed the pathway to where it was hidden, I discovered all these. Two trunkfuls, Questor. I have brought them both. I want you to have them. A little penance, perhaps, for my past misdeeds. I cannot comprehend why I was chosen to find them, but I am grateful that I was and I have decided to accept responsibility for their proper use. So I entrust them now to you. My gift to Landover. Pass them out to her people and let them enjoy the images they find therein. A little happiness to dull the edges of their more stressful moments.”

Questor Thews and Abernathy stared at the trunkful of crystals, open-mouthed. “Perhaps with the crystals to occupy people’s time there will be less violence,” Horris Kew went on thoughtfully, looking off somewhere into the room’s rafters as if seeking a higher truth. “Perhaps there will be fewer wars and killings over meaningless things when there are so many more pleasant and harmless ways to gain diversion. Perhaps there will be less time spent fomenting rumors that lead to mischief.” He gave the wizard and the dog a surreptitious glance. As he said that, he did not miss the look that passed between them. “Fewer loose tongues wagging on about whether Landover’s matters are being handled as they should and whether her leaders are leading as they ought to.”

“Hmmm.” Questor rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, perhaps. This really works?” he asked again, looking Abernathy directly in the eye, taking hold of the hand that held the crystal.

Abernathy moved the crystal away, tightening his grip on it.

“Of course, I have one for you, too, Questor,” Horris Kew advised quickly. He reached back and closed the lid to the trunk. “These are all yours now.” He yawned widely. “Well, enough talk. You should both be in bed, resting for tomorrow’s challenges. I have tired you out with all this, I am sure. If you could spare a pallet, I would be most grateful. In the morning I will be off again, waiting to hear …”

He stopped. “Unless,” he went on, as if he had just thought of it, “unless you would consider letting me help in some small way with the distribution of the crystals?”

He smiled at them hopefully and waited for an answer.