high, one at each of the four cardinal points of the diagram. These each upheld another thick, beeswax candle identical to the ones on the altar. Each of the candlesticks was twined with two garlands, one of ivy and one of flowers. Flower-petals carpeted the floor outside the diagram. Mingled flower-scents perfumed the air, which unfortunately was a bit chill.
Jason was barefoot, and wore a hooded robe of thick red velvet-the same robe he had worn the night she had first seen him. The hood was up, keeping his face in shadow, although his eyes glinted at her from the darkness. If she did not look at his hands or his feet, she could believe that there was only a normal man beneath that velvet. The shoulders beneath that robe were strong and broad, and the belt confined the velvet about a waist that was becomingly narrow. I wonder what he used to look like, she thought, idly. He is handsome enough now-I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't quite the dapper fellow then.
She waited for his approval of her preparations. He surveyed her from head to toe, then without warning, reached out and plucked the glasses from her face.
She uttered an inarticulate cry of protest; now he was nothing but a red blur in the candle-light. 'Jason!' she said. 'What are you doing? I'm blind without my spectacles!'
'Don't worry, I'll keep them safe in my pocket,' he said, sounding amused. 'You've read the Work; you know you can't wear them into the circle.'
'But I can't see!' she complained. 'How will I get to my place? How will I know if anything is happening?' 'As to the first, I'll guide you,' he told her. 'Just take my hand and step where I tell you. And hold your skirts up. As to the second, believe me, you will know if the Summoning works correctly.'
Reluctantly, she gathered up her skirts in her left hand and gave him her right. His paw-hand felt very strange, hairy on the back and dry and hot on the front, and a tiny electric thrill ran up her spine when she touched it. This was the first time she had ever actually touched him-his flesh, and not the clothing that covered him. But she did not wince away; instead she concentrated on putting her feet precisely where he told her, somehow managing to avoid scuffing the laboriously-drawn chalk lines.
'There,' he said, dropping her hand, then taking her shoulders and turning her until she faced the right direction. She knew it was the right direction by the white blob which was the altar in front of her. Now she stood in the center of a circle just in front of the altar and to the North of it. Jason let go of her shoulders and stepped away; by squinting she could just make out a red blur, moving along a complicated path that would eventually take him to an identical circle to the South of the altar.
Drat. I can't see a thing. I might just as well be blindfolded. The Unicorn, if it came at all, would materialize above the dish of water on the altar. And I won't be able to see it. She could see the altar itself as a squarish white shape, with two soft, yellow lights above it that were the flames of the candles, supported by two streaks of white that were the candles themselves. The bowl was an indistinct smear of silver against the white.
For the first time since she had seen him face-to-face, there were no Salamanders about. She dropped her skirts to pool around her bare feet, and clasped her hands before her. Jason did not bother to ask her if she was ready, since she obviously was; instead, he began to intone the sonorous Latin verses he had memorized. This was to set the conditions for the Unicorn, transforming the Work Room into a place fit for such a being to appear.
From the moment the first word left his mouth, it was clear that something was going to happen. The first indication was a feeling, a very physical feeling, the kind of electric tension she had felt before massive thunderstorms. Her skin tingled all over, and the scent of the flowers intensified. The air warmed, until she might have stood in the middle of a blooming meadow in high summer, rather than the stonelined room in the middle of winter. Then, as she looked down for a moment, the lines of the diagram began to glow with a soft, bluish-white light, as if she had drawn them with foxfire instead of chalk. She could only make out those nearest her feet - and then only vaguely-but the increased light at the level of the floor told her that all the rest of the lines were glowing too. There was so much light in the room now that the odd effect of a sunlit meadow was intensified. If she closed her eyes, she would have sworn she heard the lazy drone of bees.
And yet, with all of this going on about her, there was no sensation within her of fear, or even apprehension. Instead, a wonderful calm came over her, and a deep and drowsy peace. There was a surety that she was utterly, completely safe and protected, and insensibly she relaxed as Jason continued to chant. I would be happy if this went on forever, she thought in dreamy content.
Without her glasses she really couldn't see what else might be going on, although she had the impression from the moving lights that appeared over key points in the diagram and from the bright haze appearing over the altar that a great deal of activity was taking place. If she hadn't felt so peaceful she would have been immensely frustrated and annoyed; this was why she absolutely hated being without her glasses! No matter how she squinted and strained, she could not make out a blessed thing. Drat. This is hardly fair. My first view of a major Work, and all I can see are moving lights and shadows. If I didn't know him better, I'd think he planned it this way.
Jason came to the last quatrain of the verses, and she woke out of her dreaming; now, if at all, would be a sign that the Unicorn would accept a tendered Summons. She concentrated on the thin, bright mist above the altar and held her breath, hoping for his sake that he was going to get more than just some pretty lights.
As the last few syllables fell from his lips, a deep hush dropped over the room, and it seemed as if everything paused a moment-there was a feeling of immanence, of something wonderful about to happen. The mist above the altar dimmed-then suddenly flared, brightly, and even without her glasses, she made out a bright oval there, as if it was a window into somewhere where everything was made of light.
Now it was her turn, the time to issue the Summons, which more properly might be termed an invitation. She called out her own quatrain, the invitation to the Unicorn to come to her, begging the gift of its presence and its immortal wisdom to enlighten her.
The mist dimmed and flared a second time. Then there was something bright and-as far as she could tell-
