Gwen smiled, amused. "Why not ask what is in its nature?"
"Everything and nothing," Rod answered. "Right, Fess?"
"That is correct," the robot replied. "Of itself, the fungus had no properties other than color, texture, composition, mass, and the ability to respond to projected thought. Its 'nature' is entirely potential."
"I comprehend how it may be crafted; I have done it." Cordelia frowned. "Yet how can it keep the aspects I give it, when I am far from it?"
Rod shrugged. "Dunno—but it can. If I'm guessing right, the first elves were made of witch-moss by people who didn't know they were doing it—grandmothers, maybe, who were projective telepaths but unaware of it, and who liked to tell stories to their grandchildren. But the nearest growth of witch-moss picked up the stories, too, and turned into the characters the story was about."
"Dost say the Puck is a thing of witch-moss?"
"Not where he can hear it—but he probably is."
"Yet whosoever crafted him must be five centuries in his grave!" Magnus protested. "How can the Puck endure?"
"I should think he is sustained by the beliefs of the people all about him," Fess put in. "One might say that, on Gramarye, the supernatural exists in a climate of belief."
"Thou dost mean that other folk with the power to send out their thoughts do sustain him?" Magnus nodded slowly. "I can credit that; yet how then can he think?"
"Doth he truly think?" Gregory asked.
Fess shuddered. "That is a philosophical question which I would rather not broach at the moment, Gregory." In fact, he didn't intend to broach it for about ten more years. "For the moment, suffice it to say that Puck, and all other elves, do indeed exhibit all the symptoms of actual thought."
"An it doth waddle and quack, can it be a hen?" Geoffrey muttered.
"A what?" Cordelia asked.
"A hen! A hen!"
"Do not clear thy throat; thou shalt injure thy voice…"
"Are they so real that they can even, um"—Magnus glanced at his sister and blushed— "have babes?"
"I had little difficulty accepting the notion," Fess replied, "once I accepted the existence of witch-moss. It is only a question of whether the crafter makes an elf of witch-moss himself, or does it by one remove."
"And if we do credit an elf's thinking," Gwen mused, "wherefore should we not credit a stone's making of music?"
"But there are no tales of singing stones, Mama!" Geoffrey protested.
"What difference does it make?" Rod countered. "If the people of this land believe in magic, they probably believe in anything anyone can imagine."
"Yet a true rock could not make music?" Gregory asked anxiously.
"Not a true rock," Fess said slowly, "though it could conduct vibrations, and resonate with them…"
"Then a rock could be made to convey music!"
"In a manner of speaking—but it could not make music itself. However, a person could make a substance that looks exactly like stone."
"Thou dost speak of molecular circuits," Magnus said, relieved to be back on the solid ground of physics.
"I do. You have all seen the ring your father wears; the jewel contains a molecular circuit, and the setting contains others."
"Can it make music?"
"Your father's ring? No—but it can 'hear' music, and send it to the receiver behind his ear. Still, one could build a circuit of that size that would create simple music—and that is certainly ail that is at issue here."
"And 'twould look just like stone?"
"It could," Fess confirmed, and Rod explained, "In a way, such circuits are stones, since they're usually made of silicon—but they're very carefully made rocks."
"Ah!" Magnus looked up, finally connecting ideas. " 'Tis that which thou didst research, by making the amulet thou didst give Mama!"
"And that she very prudently gave the Abbot. Yes."
Cordelia looked up at the robot-horse, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Art thou pleased with the fruit of thy teaching, Fess?"
"I cannot deny it, Cordelia—the boy turned out remarkably well, in spite of it all. He not only absorbed the information, but also learned how to think, which is a different matter entirely, though related. He even began to enjoy learning, and eventually found it to be so great a source of pleasure that he seeks new information purely as recreation now."
. Rod tried not to blush.
Geoffrey shuddered. "How could one enjoy learning?"
That saved him. "Believe it or not, son, it can happen."
"I have seen you reading of the famous generals of the past, Geoffrey," Fess pointed out. "In fact, when you learn that even peacemaking is an extension of the same root purpose as warfare, you will find that virtually any information is enjoyable."
"Pray Heaven I never do!" Geoffrey exclaimed.
"Yet if thou dost take such pleasure in learning, Papa, wherefore dost thou so seldom seek new knowledge?" Cordelia asked.
"Not that seldom," Rod protested. "I've always found time to read the odd book or two."
"And some of them are very odd indeed," Gwen added.
"As for research," Fess said, "it is simply that he rarely has adequate time for such pleasures."
"He hath found such time this year," Cordelia pointed out.
"Yeah, and it's been such a relief." Rod grinned, stretching. "Gramarye seems to have been struck by a wave of peace for the past dozen months or so. When your mother politely hinted that I was becoming something of an encumbrance around the house…"
"Oh, I do remember thy discussing that Papa had not been to the castle for some time…"
"That was the occasion, yes. So I went down into the spaceship, and passed some time quite pleasantly in the laboratory, which is small but spacious…"
"Wilt thou never show us where it is?" Geoffrey demanded.
Gregory said nothing; he had already deduced the spaceship's location, but he didn't dare try to visit it.
"It would be of small interest to you, Geoffrey, since it has only minimal armament," Fess said, while Rod was still trying to think up a tactful answer. "The laboratory is adequate for a broad range of research, however, and your father settled down to see if he could grow a molecular circuit that could function as a psionic transceiver."
"All right, so it wasn't a complete success," Rod said quickly, to forestall criticism. "Still, it should have some worth, as a transducer. In fact, I would have experimented with it myself, if only…"He broke off, glancing at Fess.
"There is no need to hide it from them," Gwen said, "sin that 'tis where it shall be safe."
"What? what?" Magnus asked in concern. "Hath it a property thou hast not told us of?"
"More of a side effect than a property," Rod hedged. "It's not just that it shifts one form of psi energy into another, see—it also turns the esper's power back on its source."
"Thou dost say that an I were to wear it, and seek to lift a stone with my thoughts, I would instead find myself lifted?" Gregory asked, wide-eyed.
"We can move ourselves already," Geoffrey scoffed.
"I cannot," Cordelia pointed out.
"You wouldn't want to," Rod assured her. "The thought-impulse picks up energy from its surroundings, and comes back at you about ten times stronger."
Gregory stared. "Thou dost say that my own thoughts would come back to me more strongly than I sent them forth?"
"Oh! What a wondrous device!" Geoffrey cried. "I could move mountains with it; I could make walls to tumble!"
"Sure," Rod said sourly, "if we could figure out which power converts into telekinesis—and if it would hit the wall. But it doesn't—it hits you."