The water vanished. He let go of a tree and grabbed at a nearby bush. It leapt into view, holding him like a piece of sticky tar. He shook it off and grasped at a low fence.
He was almost there now. His eyes clung to the fence, conscious of the grain of the wood, of the great eyelike whorls, the shining silver head of a nail. Each thing grabbed at him, forcing him to look. Gritting his teeth, he jerked himself free, then turned his body that final, tiny bit.
There!
Scaf could smell Kygek at his feet, could hear his rasping breath beneath him, but his eyes were fixed elsewhere. There, at the top of a brilliant, emerald slope of grass, was the Master's cottage, its walls so white, so powerfully, overwhelmingly white, they hurt Scafs eyes.
He whimpered gratefully.
"Master!" he called, his voice like thunder in his head. "Master!"
Slowly the darkness at the door's edge thickened, widening like a flooding river until, with a suddenness that made Scaf jump, a hand appeared, gripping the wood.
Scaf shuddered, his whole body trembling with a violent anticipation, and then a wave of blackness hit him like a club.
BEN PUSHED THE DOOR open and stepped out into the sunlight. For a moment he stood there, puzzled, then he saw them, down at the end of the lower garden, by the water.
He went down, bending over Kygek to check the pulse at his neck. Kygek stared up at him as he did, doglike as ever, yet there was something new in his eyes; some element of curiosity that had not been there before. The pulse was high but regular. Good, Ben thought and smiled, patting Kygek's shoulder, then turned to the second of them. Scaf was unconscious. Ben knelt beside him, concerned for a moment, then relaxed. The pulse was normal, his heartbeat regular. He had probably just got overexcited, that was all. It was Scaf who had been calling him.
As he leaned back, Scaf moaned and opened his eyes. Seeing Ben, the dayman's large, round eyes widened perceptibly, a look of utter astonishment seizing his face.
Ben smiled. "Is it strange, Scaf? Is it all ... changed?"
"Yes," Scaf said quietly, the word filled with wonder. "Your face . . ."
Ben held himself still, letting the Clayman study the contours of his face. So often he had done so himself, standing before a mirror, a lamp to one side, turning his head so that the shadows fell in different ways. But this felt different. To have another see him as he saw himself . . .
His smile broadened, and as it did Scaf gave a tiny sigh of delight. Then, with a suddenness that was frightening, the dayman's face changed, grew horrified. Scaf was staring past him now, as if there were a demon at his back.
Ben half turned, confused, but there was nothing: only the two remotes that followed him constantly. For a moment he didn't understand, then, with a laugh, he reached up and plucked one of the tiny hovering cameras from the air.
"It's all right," he said, cupping the thing in his hands to show the Clayman. "It's a remote. A tiny camera. It just looks like a bug."
Slowly Scaf s terror subsided. Slowly the light of curiosity returned to his face.
"I—I've never seen it before," Scaf said slowly, his eyes locked on the tiny machine.
"They've always been there," Ben said, picking it up between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "You've just not noticed it. Like the rest of it. The drug I gave you has heightened your perceptions. Sharpened them."
With an effort Scaf pulled his eyes away from the remote and looked at Ben again, the dark pupils of his eyes as tight as pinheads. "Is this for good?"
"Permanent, you mean? No. It'll wear off in a few hours. But it'll leave a residue. You'll sense things much more clearly from now on. And it ought to sharpen up your thought processes too. And when I give you the second shot—"
"The second?" There was a look of doubt in Scaf s eyes now as if he wasn't sure whether that sounded a good thing or a bad. Kygek, who had been lying there listening to everything, gave a distinct groan. "Don't you want to be better than you are, Scaf?" Scaf s mouth worked impotently a moment, then he shrugged. Ben placed the remote in the air, then reached out to hold Scaf s shoulder. "Of course you do," he said, his voice heavy with reassurance. "You all do. Even Kygek here. It's your destiny."
He squeezed the dayman's shoulder gently, then stood, looking about him. The other two must be somewhere about. Back in the blockhouse, perhaps, lying on their backs in bed, engrossed by the patterns on the ceiling. He laughed, remembering his own first experience with the drug. It had been like a door opening in his head. He had seen . . . darkness. The infinite darkness between the individual atoms. So much space and so little substance. So much . . . nothingness.
Ben looked back at Scaf. It was working. He could see it in their eyes, in the hesitancy with which they now encountered every facet of the world. He had switched them on. For the first time they were alive, truly, vividly alive, the way he himself was alive. He laughed, then spread his arms wide. It was time to further their education.
HE CARRIED THE TWO daymen back to the bunkhouse, one under each arm, then searched nearby for the others, defter he found in the toolshed, crouched in a comer, staring at the objects on the shelf in front of him. Blonegek was in the lane, standing facing the stone wall. Neither had the least understanding of what had happened to them. He brought them back and strapped them in their beds, then returned to the cottage to fetch the lists he'd prepared.
As he made his way out of the study, Meg came from the living room and, closing the door behind her, took his arm, keeping her voice low.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
He smiled at her and reached out to brush her cheek. "It's what I'd always planned. You know that."
"Yes. But why now? Is it because he's here?"
"He" was the man from SimFic who was sitting in the living room even as they spoke.
He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe it's just time. 1 need to do something new. This . . . well, I've been preparing for this a long time now. You know what they say, as one door closes another opens."
"But what if it harms them?"
His fingers combed the hair behind her ear, then he drew her closer, embracing her. "It won't harm them. To be better than they were, that can only be a good thing, no? We've fed them, clothed them, been kind to them. If they'd stayed in the Clay they'd surely have been dead long ago. No, Meg, I've done them no harm. Nor shall I."
She stared back at him, her dark eyes searching his. "You promise?"
"I promise. Now let me get on. And tell our Mister Neville that I'll be with him in another twenty minutes."
THE STRONG EFFECT of the drug was beginning to wear off. As he unfastened their bindings, Ben whistled to himself cheerfully. It was just as he'd said to Meg. It was time to stretch himself again.
He stood back, watching them sit up, noting how they looked to each other, checking that they were all all right. That concern, which he'd noticed before, was highly developed in the daymen. They were a tight-knit group and even Scaf, the most individual of the four, would rarely act without the approval of the others. The drug had had little effect on that aspect of their relationship. Or so it seemed. It was early days yet, and as the doses continued it would be interesting to see whether the bonds between them would remain as strong.
Scaf was staring at him again, not with the drug-induced intensity he'd shown earlier, but with a curiosity that none of the others seemed to display, even now. The others merely looked down, as if ashamed. Or maybe they were afraid? It was hard to tell. "What is it, Scaf?"
He saw how the others looked up, attentive suddenly, looking to Scaf. For while Crefter—named for his strength—was physically the dominant one, it was to Scaf they looked whenever there was a problem.