'But you do not want to do that,' the creature said shrewdly. 'You want her to believe, because if she believes, she can help you.'
Now how does it know that? The Salamander surprised him more every time it spoke. 'If she believes, I will no longer need to waste time and effort concealing your presence from her-and I will not need to depend so much on du Mond for assistance, for she could do some things for me that do not require either experience or her actual presence. 'That would be very good,' the Salamander said with emphasis. 'Show her, Firemaster. Give her facts. Give her the evidence of her own senses. She is practical, and where she might doubt a mere explanation, she will not doubt what she can see and test for herself.'
Show her? Well-why not. She is so annoyingly logical, that just might be the correct approach to take with her 'Go collect her supper-dishes,' he told the Salamander. 'But leave the sweet, and bring coffee. I want the effect of the wine countered. She may need both energy and alertness before the night is out.'
The Salamander spun with joy and uttered a breathy laugh. 'Yes!' it said. 'Warn her I am coming! Let her test me!'
'I will,' he told it. 'Now you be certain of your path and move slowly, so that she doesn't miss anything.'
'I must be mad,' Rose muttered again.
'You are not mad, Miss Hawkins,' came the hollow, grating voice from the speaking-tube. 'Believe me, you are not mad. And if you will not believe me, then believe the evidence of your own eyes and watch your supper- table.'
The last words were still hanging in the air as she turned again to stare at the table-and at the flickering shape of flame suddenly hovering above it.
A conjurer's trick, she thought, with disgust-but then the flame took more definite shape, the general aspect of a lizard, which blinked fiery blue eyes at her, and began to spin in place. Then her supper dishes rose gracefully on their tray, levitating above the tabletop. The dish containing the sweet separated from the rest and wafted gently down to rest on the tablecloth and a minute later, a spoon floated down to lie beside it. She hesitantly touched the latter; it was noticeably warm.
The tray remained above the table.
'Test it, Rose,' the voice urged. 'Use your own senses to tell you whether or not this is fakery. Make every test on it that you care to.'
With exquisite care, she waved her hand beneath it, and encountered no resistance, no hidden supports. She reached out further and waved her hand to either side, and finally rose to her feet to circle the table. She tested the air all about the floating tray, and then waved her hand above it. There was nothing, nothing whatsoever. She circled the table again, looking for any means by which the tray could be moved, and still found nothing. The tray was perfectly ordinary, except for the fact that it was floating in midair, about a foot above the table-top.
No supports, no strings, no wires. And she thought she heard a giggle of delight from the spinning shape, which continued to hover about a foot above the tray. She had even passed her hand repeatedly between the creature and the tray to make certain it was not somehow attached to the tray, and had encountered nothing.
She sat down again, her eyes wide, biting her lip. The tray and the creature of flame sailed towards the door, which opened obligingly for them, then closed again. But Cameron wasn't done yet, for a moment later, the door opened again, and a coffee service sailed serenely in, below the floating flame, setting itself down on the table. She stared at it. I am seeing this, but I still do not believe it. There must be a way to explain floating trays logically! Surely he's tricking me.
'I thought perhaps after all that wine you might like something to clear your head,' Cameron said, with a touch of amusement. 'Then you can be certain that you are not being tricked.'
The coffee-pot lifted into the air and poured a precise and delicate cup. The cream-pitcher followed, and her usual two lumps dropped neatly into the cup, which lifted, saucer and all, and moved towards her. She put out her hand without thinking, and it settled down on her palm like a pet bird. Finally the creature above the table stopped spinning.
She drank the coffee in silence, glancing obliquely at the little form of flame still hovering in the air, looking down at her. Finally, she put the cup down and addressed it directly.
'What are you?' she asked it.
The voice, which came from everywhere, was thin, sibilant, and silvery. 'Salamander,' it said to her, and blinked benignly.
