Star Winds

But he saw, too, that the struggle between man and Kerek, between self-determined consciousness and hypnotized slavery, was of no consequence to nature. It had no place in the macrocosm.

But Amschel did have a place. He was a Magus of Power. He could rotate the elements, converting one substance into another. He could rotate space and time, projecting himself to distant places. He was not governed by number: he could project himself into several different locations at once, unlimited by a single body.

He could, if he chose, disturb the Sleeping Sulphur.

With an effort, Amschel scaled his mind down from the Great World that was not available to him. He was back in the microcosm, sitting in his adamant-lined chamber, the burns on his body beginning to heal.

He had discounted the use of purely physical powers to achieve his long-term mission, but that did not preclude their deployment in a more limited sense, at this juncture, anyway. He must, he decided, arrange some means for his helpers to escape their adamant prison.

Also, he must cover his tracks.

***

Four days passed before Wolo could be prevailed upon to lead Rachad and Baron Matello back into the laboratory. The other assistants had come out two days before, but had said little.

As soon as the trio entered the dismal wood, a strong smell of burning reached their nostrils. When they passed through the door of the laboratory, it was to find a spectacle of devastation.

From the look of it a tremendous explosion had spread through the network of chambers, wrecking and charring everything that was not adamant. A penetrating stink, arising from numerous volatile substances, permeated the air; underfoot the floor was slippery with some foam-like stuff—the result, most likely, of the spilling of reactive chemicals.

Wolo moaned, then began to run, slipping and sliding in the mess. Pressing kerchiefs to their faces to ward off the acerbic vapors, Matello and Rachad followed, coming after a few minutes to the infusoratory laboratory where Amschel had sited the great cucurbit for the completion of the work.

Here, evidently the center of the explosion, the destruction was even more complete. With an expression of woe, Wolo looked on an almost empty chamber, practically its whole content being fused into one messy coagulation.

The baron looked about him sourly. “So Amschel’s great experiment was very much a failure after all. Lucky for you he sent you away, or you’d have ended up as dead as he is.”

“But where’s the body?” Rachad said.

“Blown to shreds, and the shreds burned to smoke, I imagine. What’s left of him will be soot, and you’re treading that underfoot. Come along, let’s get back. Later you can sort through all this and see if you can find anything useful.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Wolo intoned emptily. “Years of work—all for nothing!”

“Oh, an alchemist thrives on lost labor!” Matello retorted jovially. He strode from the chamber, Rachad and Wolo trailing reluctantly after him.

Rachad’s heart was heavy as they retraced their steps through the maze. He had not expected this outcome, and it made him feel somber and shaken. In a way it seemed to dash any last vestige of hope—for the Hermetic goal, for the future of mankind, or indeed for his own future.

He no longer believed in the Stone, he told himself. It was all fantasy, and Amschel’s exaggerated claims for it were the dodderings of an old fool. Matello had the right idea: he was a rude realist, unswayed by fanciful notions.

Back in his headquarters, news was waiting for Baron Matello that something unusual was happening outside on the plain. He hurried to the observation post and peered through the eyepiece that, by means of lenses and mirrors, brought a view seen from a narrow slit high in the adamant wall of the Aegis.

On the sloping ground before the Aegis, the Kerek were encamped in force. But now something was astir in the riotous sprawl of tall tents and grounded galleys.

The bombards and catapult guns were abandoned. Men and Kerek rushed to and fro in apparent panic, jostling together. Galleys were hastily taking off, both human and alien forms clinging to their sides and sometimes falling away as they ascended raggedly into the sky.

A ruddy, wavering light illuminated the scene. This in itself was not so unusual—the planet’s sun burned sometimes white, sometimes red, sometimes both together in a fiery, whirling manner. The light was, however, much brighter than normally.

Was this what had caused the Kerek to take fright? Intrigued and excited, Matello continued to watch, until the glare increased so much that he snatched himself away from the eyepiece with a cry, holding his streaming eye.

A visible cone of light came from the lens. Curtly Matello gave the order for the observation slit to be closed up.

They all sat huddled blindly in the adamant shell, waiting and wondering.

***