The Serpent's Shadow

loath to do without. Only when the pleasures had become necessities did you close the door of the trap.

If he did not return, there would be others like him. This one was useful in that he had already tried and tested other groups in this place who purported to have some dealings with the Unseen—and he had access to those 'lists.' It would be much easier to choose those who should die first, if she had those lists.

Of course, if all went according to her plans, eventually there would not be an English soul on this island that was not dead or a slave to the shrine of Kali Durga (or both)—but until that bright day dawned, it would be convenient, so very convenient, to have the lists.

PETER Scott had never been a teacher before, but Maya Witherspoon was such an eager learner that any defects in his teaching were inconsequential. 'The main thing is that all of these names and conventions we use are only that, and no more: conventions,' Peter pointed out, doing his best to keep from being distracted by the doctor's intense gaze and proximity. The way she concentrated on him reminded him strongly of the owl on the branch just overhead. She didn't look away for a second, and her gaze, while not threatening, was not in the least mild. He'd seen that look before—most notably on Almsley's face—and it meant that nothing was going to distract that person from whatever his or her goal was.

He struggled for a moment with an analogy, and finally the conservatory in which they sat gave him one. 'Magic is—oh—like sunlight; it's everywhere, even moonlight is reflected sunlight, after all. We just deal with it inside of a structure we understand—-and in the case of the Elemental Masters, the structure is mostly Greek, some Egyptian, and a bit of all the old pagans that ever roamed Europe.'

Did she smile? It was hard to tell if there had been a faint smile on her lips, or if the subtly shifting lamplight had put the fleeting expression there. 'We are a bit like that in India, too,' she murmured. 'A little borrowed from this, a minor god of the crossroads added there—the hand of Buddha, the touch of Mohammed—and who knows? Perhaps even the words of Christian teachers who came even before Constantine ruled. We are great borrowers.'

Her voice soothed his nerves, for they were certainly playing him up in her presence, and he went on, encouraged. 'The thing is, that over time—centuries!—that structure's taken on a life of its own, just as yours has, I suppose. Magic's also like metal; heat it and pour it into a mold, or sculpt it like wax, and it's going to keep that shape. So here, in the West, we have Water, Earth, Fire, and Air Magic, and the corresponding Elemental Creatures to serve our uses—that's the structure, the mold that we pour the magic into to give it shape, and what we use to shape the magic to our own ends.'

'I wish I had the benefit of a structure,' she said wistfully, for a moment just speaking her thoughts aloud. 'I have never learned the structure of the magic of home. I have been groping in the darkness, like the blind men with their elephant. I have bits, but no grasp of the whole.' Maya did not pause long for any self-pity, but drove back to the subject at hand. 'But why do you have this shape and no other? How is it that you actually have creatures of the Elements to command?' she asked.

Here he was on solid ground, and felt comfortable providing an explanation. 'It's my theory that we can blame the Greeks, since they were the first old fellows to have much of a written tradition. It's easier to preserve a way of thinking if it's written down, you see.

It's easier to have a structure and build on it if you've got it written and less subject to change.'

'I do see,' Maya said, nodding, oblivious to the soft strands of hair that had escaped from her chignon and curled charmingly around her face. Peter tried to remain oblivious too, but with less success.

'I think that's the entire reason for why our magic works this way,' Peter continued. 'I think we've got the Elementals because we've believed in 'em for so long, but there are those who say the Elementals came first.'

'There is probably no way to tell now,' Maya replied, tapping one finger thoughtfully on the arm of her chair. 'And except for a scholar, who cares only for hunting down the roots of things, I cannot see that it matters.' She shrugged. 'It is. So I must and will work with it. If my patient has a wound, it is my duty to treat and heal it, not wonder about how he got it.'

'It matters to the insatiably curious,' Peter amended, thinking with amusement of Almsley. 'I can think of a couple of my colleagues who'll want to stir about in your recollections and try and pick out the differences between Western magic and Eastern.'

She made a dismissive gesture. 'They will have to wait until we—I—have more leisure. You say that I have the magic of Earth? How did you know? And what, then, is yours?'

'I knew because of affinities,' he responded. 'That is—how my magic responded to yours. I'm Water; Water nourishes Earth, or washes it away, and I saw that in the colors, in the sense of your magic. You do know that magic has colors?'