So Earle had magic, and he dared not show it. But if he could bring the animus, then he could found a new and glorious age of men, replacing the tyranny of women. Yet how could he accomplish his purpose? He didn’t know, and did not dare inquire. So to his friends and associates he was merely an ordinary peon with a certain flair for music who might, were he lucky, be employed to entertain the amazons at court instead of having to labor as a weed-chopper. Actually his power of music, too, was greater than others knew; he could hammer the dulcimer so cleverly and sweetly as to charm the very bees of the flower fields into dancing, and the honey in their combs to added sweetness. But he had the caution to mute this ability too.
He reasoned that since he was the firstborn of the firstborn, eight times over, his answer might lie at the first world of the first world, which he believed was the head of a chain of eight. That is, the origin world, from which all others derived. So if he went to that world, he might succeed.
How could he travel there? He knew it was possible to travel along the filaments, for his ancestors had done it. But the secret was known only to the red-cloaked amazons, who would not tell any black-cloaked peon. He had to find out for himself.
Yet there were legends that circulated furtively among his people, and they hinted that the right person might be able to do it if he stood in the light of the filament and wished hard enough. Was Earle the right person? He hoped so!
So he buckled on his sword, used a spell to reduce his precious magic dulcimer to pocket size, and traveled to the East Sea. It was a far distance, so when he was sure no one was watching, he used his magic to fly, and this was much faster, though it also tired him faster. He had to rest for a day once he reached the sea. Then he risked using his magic to enable him to breathe the water, and he walked down under the surface until he came to the crevice and the filament. He bestrode it and wished with all his might that he might travel along it to the larger world at its other end.
Suddenly he was flying along the filament, so fast he was amazed. It was working! He shot straight along, passing many smaller worlds whose folk never noticed, and landed at the larger one, called Sol by certain folk. This, by his reckoning, was the seventh world in the chain, his own world of Jupiter being the eighth.
But it was so big! Judging by the height of the trees, which were in proportion, it was about thirty-six times as far across as Jupiter. It had been wearing to fly across part of Jupiter; how could he fly from one end of Sol to the other? And what of the yet larger worlds to come, which would make Sol seem as small as Jupiter now did? There had to be a better way! So he approached a native of Sol. It was an aspect of Earle’s magic that he could tell whether a person was friendly or unfriendly, and he selected the friendliest one in the nearest village of giants.
But when he flew to that house, he was taken aback. It was a red-clad woman! An amazon! Surely no member of the ruling class would help any man to reverse the anima, especially not one who stood about two of her inches high.
Yet his magic indicated that she was the most likely prospect. So he explored the matter. He flew in a window and sat on the sill and watched her. She was monstrous, of course, but also beautiful. Her hair was dark brown and waist length, her face pretty, and her body marvelously well formed. Had she been his size, he would have loved her immediately. Except that she was a red amazon and he a black peon.
Could his magic be wrong? If it was, then he was lost, for he would never complete his journey without help. So he nerved himself and addressed her. He did not try to use words, knowing that their languages would differ, but illusion was a common mode of communication. He made a picture of himself, greatly expanded, and flashed it before her face.
She paused in her activity, which happened to be making a tasty-looking cake from grains of wheat. She made an illusion of her own, a giant question mark.
Earle introduced himself. “Earle,” the image of him said, tapping his chest.
The woman smiled. She tapped her breastbone. “Kara,” she said. Then she turned to look at him directly, tuning in on him with her magic. If she turned hostile now, he would be finished, for his magic was no greater than that of an ordinary amazon, and Kara was a big amazon.
Indeed, she caused him to float to her hand, and he knew he would not be able to escape her power. She held him up before her face and inspected him closely. Her mouth opened, and he feared she was going to eat him. She could bite him in two without effort! Then she smiled again, remaining friendly. He was greatly relieved.
Her curiosity satisfied, she sought to put him aside, her interest in this novelty fading. She meant him no harm, but she had other things to do.
This was not what he wanted. He needed her active help, not her mere tolerance. How could he convince her to take him seriously?
His desperate eye fell on a monstrous long-necked mandolin hanging on her wall. Music—she was musical!
He generated a picture of himself playing his dulcimer.
That got her attention again. Her eye went to her own instrument. Then she looked at him, there in her hand.
He brought out his tiny case and took out his dulcimer. He sat and crossed his legs, then used magic to restore his instrument to its proper size. He set it against his legs, which was not the best position from which to play, but would do in this emergency.
He took his two little hammers and struck the strings. The music came out, clear and strong, every note a delight. Now he could let his full skill manifest, and he reveled in it, making music that was almost painfully beautiful. All that was good in his soul was evoked in that sound, as his hammers moved with blinding cleverness across the strings.
Kara listened. At first her eyes widened slightly with surprise to discover that his skill was genuine; then she relaxed and let it carry her.
When he was done with the piece, she set him carefully on a pillow and went to fetch her own instrument. She sat and played it, and the sound came out so deep and resonant that Earle himself was charmed. She was not as skilled as he, but she was good enough. She was also absolutely beautiful herself as she played, her hair rippling in waves as her body swayed to the music, her bosom gently heaving.
Then they played a piece together, his tiny sound magically amplified to match hers, and it was a truly enjoyable experience. Never before had Earle allowed himself to indulge his full proficiency, and this would have been a delight even had he not done it in the company of a lovely giant amazon.
After that, her interest was changed. She wanted to communicate further with him, to learn all about him. He realized that the music had done what his magic could not: it had moved her heart.
They talked, exchanging illusions. He showed a map of his origin world, though that could hardly have surprised her, considering his size. Earle, encouraged by her surprisingly positive attitude, finally made so bold as to show his mission: travel to the center of the universe, where he hoped to invoke the animus.
He waited, knowing that now she would destroy him, if she was going to. But she merely considered. Then she smiled. I HELP YOU, her pictures indicated.