“And it does, dear, it does,” said Paithan, stroking her hair. “You came in here and you looked around. Did you... touch anything, my dear?” Her eyes flared open. She went stiff in his arms. “You think I did this, don’t you?”
“No, Rega. Well, maybe not on purpose, but—”
“Well, I didn’t! I wouldn’t! I hate it! Hate it!” She stamped her foot. The clock gave a lurch. The arm that held the diamond above the well creaked and started to turn. Rega flung herself into Paithan’s arms. He held her, watching, fascinated, as a red light started to beam out of the well, pulsing up from its fathomless depths.
“Paithan!” Rega whimpered.
“Yes, yes, dear,” he said. “We’ll leave.” But he made no move to go. The books provided a complete diagram of the way the Star Chamber worked and explained exactly what it did.[31] Paithan could understand the part that dealt with the machinery, but he didn’t understand the part that dealt with the magic. Now if it had been elven magic, he could have comprehended what was going on, for though not magically inclined himself, he had worked with the elven wizards in his family’s weapons business long enough to have learned the fundamentals.
The Sartan magic—dealing as it did with such concepts as “probabilities” and making use of the pictures known as “sigla”—was beyond him. He felt as awed and baffled in its presence as he knew Rega must feel in the presence of elven magic.[32]
Slowly, gracefully, silently, the lotus-blossom ceiling started to reopen.
“This... this is how it all began, Paithan,” Rega whimpered. “I didn’t touch anything! I swear it. It’s... doing this all by itself.”
“I believe you, dear. I truly do,” he answered. “It’s all... so wonderful!”
“No, it isn’t! It’s horrible. We’d better leave. Quickly, before the light comes back on.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Paithan started for the door, moving slowly, reluctantly.
Rega went with him, clutching him so close that their feet tangled.
“Why are you stopping?”
“Rega, darling, I can’t walk like this...”
“Don’t let go of me! Just hurry, please!”
“It’s hard to hurry, dearest, with you standing on my foot...” They edged their way across the polished marble floor, circling the well—capped with its gigantic multifaceted jewel—and the seven enormous chairs that faced outward from the hole.
“The tytans sat here,” Paithan explained, placing his hand on the leg of one of the chairs, a leg that extended far over his head. “I can see now why the creatures are blind.”
“And why they’re insane,” Rega muttered, tugging him along. The red light beaming up from the depths of the well was growing brighter. The clockwork hand that held the diamond turned it this way and that. The light glinted and danced off the jewel’s sheer planes. The sunlight, shining in through the ever widening panels, was sliced into colors by the prisms. Suddenly the diamond seemed to catch fire. Light blazed. The clockwork mechanism ticked more rapidly. The machine came to life. The light in the room grew brighter and brighter and even Paithan admitted that it was time to get out. He and Rega ran the rest of the way, sliding across the polished floor, and dashed out the door just as the strange humming sound started again. Paithan slammed the door shut. The brilliant multicolored rainbow light shone out from the Cracks, illuminated the hallway.
The two stood leaning against a wall, catching their breath. Paithan stared at the closed door longingly.
“I wish I could see what was going on! If I could, perhaps I could figure out how it works!”
“At least you got to see it start,” said Rega, feeling much better. Now that her rival had, in essence, spurned the devotion of a smitten follower, Rega could afford to be generous. “The humming is quite nice, isn’t it?”
“I hear words in it,” said Paithan, frowning. “As if it’s calling ...”
“As long as it’s not calling you,” Rega said softly, her hand twining around his. “Sit down here with me a moment. Let’s talk.” Paithan, sighing, slid down the wall. Rega curled up on the floor, nestled beside him. He looked at her fondly, put his arm around her. They made an unusual couple, as unlike in appearance as they were in almost everything else. He was elven. She was human. He was tall and willowy, white-skinned, with a long, foxish face. She was short and full-figured, brown-skinned, with brown hair that hung straight down her back. He was a hundred years old—in his youth. She was in her twenties—in her youth. He was a wanderer and a philanderer; she was a cheat and a smuggler and casual in her relationships with men. The only thing they had in common was their love for each other—a love that had survived tytans and saviors, dragons, dogs, and daft old wizards.
“I’ve been neglecting you lately, Rega,” Paithan said, resting his cheek on her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said crisply.
“Not you in particular. I’ve been avoiding everyone.” She waited for him to offer some explanation. When he didn’t, she moved her head out from beneath his chin, looked at him.
“Any reason? I know you’ve been involved with the machine—”
“Oh, Orn take the machine,” Paithan growled. “I’m interested in it, certainly. I thought maybe I could get it to work, even though I’m not really certain what it’s meant to do. I guess I hoped it might help us. But I don’t think it will. No matter how much it hums, no one will hear it.” Rega didn’t understand. “Look, Paithan, I know Roland can be a bastard sometimes—”
“It’s not Roland,” he said impatiently. “If it comes to that, what’s mostly wrong with Roland is Aleatha. It’s just... well...” He hesitated, then blurted it out. “I found some more stores of food.”
“You did!” Rega clapped her hands together. “Oh, Paithan, that’s wonderful!”
“Isn’t it,” he muttered.
“Well, of course it is! Now we won’t starve! There... there is enough, isn’t there?”
“Oh, more than enough,” he said gloomily. “Enough to last a human lifetime, even an elven lifetime. Maybe even a dwarven lifetime. Especially if there aren’t any more mouths to feed. Which there won’t be.”
“I’m sorry, Paithan, but I think this is wonderful news and I don’t see what you’re so upset about—”
“Don’t you?” He glared at her, spoke almost savagely. “No more mouths to feed. We’re it, Rega! The end. What does it matter whether we live two more tomorrows or two million more tomorrows? We can’t have children.[33] When we die, maybe the last humans and elves and dwarves on Pryan die. And then there will be no more. Ever.” Rega stared at him, stricken. “Surely... surely you can’t be right. This world is so big. There must be more of us... somewhere.”
Paithan only shook his head.
Rega tried again. “You told me that each one of those lights we see shining in the heavens is a city, like this one. There must be people like us in them.”
“We would have heard from them by now.”
“What?” Rega was amazed. “How?”
“I’m not sure,” Paithan was forced to admit. “But it says in the book that in the old days, the people living in the cities could communicate with each other. We haven’t been communicated with, have we?”
“But maybe we just don’t know how... That humming sound.” Rega brightened.
“Maybe that’s what it’s doing. It’s calling the other cities.”
“It’s calling someone, I think,” Paithan conceded thoughtfully, listening intently. The next sound, however, he heard all too well. A human voice, booming loudly.
32
Humans do use magic, but their magic deals with the manipulation of nature and all things natural, as opposed to elves, who work with mechanical magicks. Elves tend to discount human magic, therefore, considering it crude and backward. This accounts for Paithan’s superior attitude. Unfortunately, most humans on Pryan, accustomed to using elven magical technology, feel the same way about their own magic as do the elves. Human wizards are accorded very little respect.