There were levels and levels of it, a memory within the dream. Bane, confused, sought the beginning—and found himself in a vision of ancient Earth, when magic was there. In the ambience of magic, things occurred that were not possible with science, such as instant shape- and mass-changing, and the crossbreeding of divergent species. Indeed, crossbreeds nourished, and many such species had stabilized. Their magic was internal; they limited their effects to set form changes and particular talents, such as carving rock. They retained their potency throughout their lives.
But every act of external magic—that which was not natural to the species—depleted the store of magic on the planet, and so its power inevitably diminished. The vacuum was slowly taken up by a new system, later codified as science. At first science was weak and unreliable, but it gained strength in direct proportion to the diminution of magic. In sum: magic waned, science waxed. Those who practiced the new discipline came to doubt that the old one had ever had validity, because they assumed that the fundamental forces of the universe were unchanging. That was their folly—but on Earth it could not be disabused. The old texts of magic were systematically destroyed, for their spells no longer operated.
But in the larger universe, magic remained, and though it was losing its effect throughout, certain nuclei retained their potency. These came to shine like beacons in the thinning ambience, and drew the devotees of the old disciplines who were by their specialized arts able to detect them from afar. One of the strongest was the planet Phaze, where enormous magical energy had imbued its specialized nether rock.
Earth was becoming inhospitable. An oracle, or prophecy, told of a distant locale where magic would be safe. So certain creatures fashioned a great wicker boat they called the Craft of the Oracle, or Coracle. Those who were ready to risk their lives for the sake of such a dream boarded it and set sail, leaving the more conservative majority of creatures behind. The Coracle passed through the fluxes of the universe and came at last to its destination, bringing to this planet the first unicorns, werewolves, harpies, vampires, dragons, elves, goblins, ogres, demons, trolls and others, leaving behind the centaurs, rocs, merfolk, sphinxes and others. The creatures spread out to fill the ecological niches of Phaze, and flourished; in due course there were many herds of unicorns, packs of werewolves, flocks of vampires, hordes of goblins and conclaves of elves. They achieved a certain equilibrium, each dominating its chosen habitat, generally hostile to each other when there was competition for particular territory.
Then, hundreds or perhaps thousands of years later, man came to Phaze. Magic had been all but exterminated on Earth, and the crossbreeds remaining there were extinct. Some had been vicious creatures whose disappearance was little loss, but some had cultivated the best traits of their ancestor species, and their demise was a tragedy. The centaurs had been too arrogant to settle for any region less than Earth itself; now not only Earth but the universe existed without their civilization. Instead it suffered the ravages of man.
Man came technologically, and brought the infectious seed of science with him. He set about colonizing the planet, calling it Proton, burning its forests and slaughtering its creatures. The animals had never been exposed to the horrors of science, and though they tried to fight back, they were being decimated. The goblins mounted a savage counterattack, wiping out several colony settlements, but the humans reciprocated by bombing the goblins’ camps and warrens and nearly wiping out several tribes. It was evident that all too soon the creatures here would go the way of their cousins on Earth.
But not all the invaders were vicious or uncaring. Some few appreciated the nature of Phaze and sought to preserve its unique environment. These managed to deal with the elves to create a barrier between the frames of science and magic, separating them. This had an immediate effect, because the weapons based on science no longer worked in the magic frame, and magic no longer worked in the science frame. It effectively isolated the two factions, though they actually shared the territory. They were out of phase with each other. This was the origin of the name of the magic realm: Phaze.
Then a peculiar effect manifested. The two frames assumed an equivalence in more than geography. Human beings who were born and raised on the planet began appearing on either side of the curtain, mirror images of each other. In some interaction between science and magic they had cloned, the parties on either side living similar lives, but utilizing different modes. It was possible for newcomers to the planet to cross the curtain, though not always easy. Clones could not; the presence of their other selves barred them. Thus the frames were increasingly separated. But this meant that only those who knew least about the opposite frames could cross to them, and this meant trouble.
Some long-time residents developed formidable powers of magic, and became known as Adepts. The potential for magic was in every creature, but the Adepts acted ruthlessly to restrict its application. Those whose powers were less soon learned to avoid the use of magic almost entirely, so as not to seem in any way competitive with the Adepts. They settled into innocuous village life, while the Adepts became like distant lords. The Adepts took it upon themselves to protect Phaze from unwarranted intrusions across the curtain, using magic to detect and eliminate most of those who crossed.
But the Citizens of the developing hierarchy of Proton were in no mood to brook such interference with their rights of exploitation. They used their computers to prepare an exhaustive analysis of the mechanisms of magic, and developed a computer that could invoke this magic without error or waste. Because a computer could not operate in Phaze, they digested these principles into a comprehensive Book of Magic that any person could use with devastating effect. The conquest of Phaze by Proton was about to resume. This of course was incipient disaster, and the more sensible elements of both cultures opposed it implacably.
A compromise was achieved: the Book of Magic was confined to Proton and hidden, so it could not be used, and the computer was put across the curtain into Phaze, where it was given limited animation as the Oracle: an entity that would answer any question once. References to Phaze in the literature of Proton were extirpated, and in a generation it was as if the other frame did not exist. But the Citizens knew of it, and some of their secretaries learned. Surreptitious crossings still occurred, but there was a conspiracy of silence about the matter. The Citizens who had other selves in Phaze could not cross, and did not want others to do so.
So it was for three hundred years—until the extensive mining of Protonite in the science frame generated an imbalance that threatened to tear the fabric that separated them and destroy both. The Oracle understood this, but could not act directly to alleviate it. Its only power was answering questions directed to it, and not many of those. Therefore it used that power to cause the Blue Adept to be murdered—
Bane snapped out of the vision. “What?”
“You have assimilated the history of the frames,” the Oracle said.
“Thou didst cause Blue to die?” Bane demanded.
“Only one person seemed likely to be able to do the necessary job,” the Oracle replied. “That was Stile, in the frame of Proton, the Blue Adept’s other self. He knew nothing of Phaze, and could not cross. Therefore I devised a plan to free him for crossing, and to acquaint him in due course with this mission. This is a story whose general gist you may already know.”