assistance. I'm not on your calendar.'
Zane had to admit that was true. The death belonged to someone else. But to whom?
'Begin!' the first man ordered.
The youth put his fingers to the strings with a what-can-I-lose smirk and played an excellent chord. 'See? Pure junk,' he said.
'Not so,' Luna told him. 'That sounded nice.'
Astonished, he played again, watching his hands — and a fine melody commenced. His left fingers flew along the frets, while his right hand strummed out an authoritative tune. The hands seemed to possess lives of their own.
The left-footed girl stood up, wearing the slippers. 'You'll see,' she said. 'I'm no good at all.' Her right leg did look slightly deformed, perhaps by some childhood injury; it was unlikely she could move it well.
She began to dance — and her feet flashed like those of a ballerina. Her mouth dropped open. 'The slippers!' she cried. 'Magic!'
Both young men turned to Luna. 'Now you watch and listen, beautiful,' the first one said. 'Tell us which is better — the music or the dancing.'
Luna smiled. 'I shall. I'm in the arts myself; I can give an informed opinion, though these are two different forms of expression.'
The youth played the magic guitar and the girl danced in the magic slippers so well that soon the other dancers paused to listen and watch. Others started to dance to the new music. But none danced as well as the left-footed girl, who fairly flew about the floor, kicking her legs with pretty flourishes and throwing herself into dazzling spins. She had not been a really attractive girl when seated, but now her cleverness of foot lent her a special allure. Physical beauty, Zane realized as he watched, was not entirely in the body; it was in the way the body was moved.
The girl's face became flushed. She panted. 'Enough!' she cried breathlessly. 'I'm not used to this!' But the newly formed audience was clapping, urging her on, and the guitar was sounding veritable panoramas of notes, almost visibly filling the dance hall. These were two excellent magic items!
Then Zane saw that the youth was no longer smiling. His fingers were raw and starting to bleed, for they were soft, not calloused in the manner of experienced players. But he could not stop playing. The magic compelled him. And the girl — The watch touched zero on the countdown. The girl screamed and collapsed.
Now Zane understood. The magic articles did not consider human limitations. They did not care if a person flayed his fingers playing, or if an out-of-condition girl exercised herself into heart failure. They simply compelled performance.
Zane rose and went to the girl, experiencing a certain guilty relief that the client had not, after all, been Luna. Of course he should have realized what was about to happen and prevented the left-footed girl from donning the terrible slippers. He could have saved her life, instead of merely watching her die. Regretfully, he took the girl's soul and turned away from the body. The other dancers were standing aghast at the sudden tragedy. Luna, too, was horrified. 'I should have realized — ' she said, her eyes fixed on the now-still feet of the girl. 'I've seen enough magic to know the peril inherent in second-class enchantment! You came here on business — 'And if you had donned those slippers — ' Zane began. 'That, too! I'm a Magician's daughter; I know the type of — but I just wasn't thinking.'
Mortis approached, and they mounted. No one else noticed. The contest between guitar and slippers had no victor, only a loser.
'On to Nature, Death steed,' Zane directed, stopping his timer again. 'I guess you know the route.'
Mortis did. He leaped out of the dance hall and into the sky.
'I know death is a necessary part of life,' Luna said behind Zane. 'I will experience it all too soon myself. But somehow it cuts more sharply when you see it personally — when you actually participate — '
'Yes.' How well he knew!
'I wish I hadn't agreed to judge that contest. That girl might be alive now!'
'No, she was slated to die. You played no actual part. More correctly, you played a part that someone else would have; your action changed nothing.'
'She was so innocent!'
'She was fifty percent evil. It is not safe to assume that the handicapped are free of sin; they vary exactly the way unhandicapped people do. I don't know what brought her to the point of equilibrium, but — '
'Oh, you know what I mean! She may have done evil in her life, as we all have, but she didn't deserve to die so cruelly. Worked to death in one minute by enchanted slippers. Her heart must have burst.'
Zane did not answer. He agreed with her. He had increasing objections to the system of judgments and terminations that prevailed.
'I wish I knew the meaning of it all,' Luna said. 'Those two men must have known their artifacts were dangerous,' Zane muttered. 'That's why they tested them on ignorant bystanders. Magic in the hands of amateurs can be deadly.'
The horse drew up to the abode of Nature. It was a broad, green forest with a road entering it. A low, sleek, open car was parked at the tunnel like aperture.
Mortis halted. 'You're not invited?' Zane asked the horse. 'Well, I suppose you can graze here.' The meadow before the forest was lush. 'Luna and I can drive that car in; I presume that's what it's for.'
But the car turned out to be a single-seater; no room for Luna. 'I think Nature wants a private meeting,' Luna said. 'I'll wait here, too,'
'If she'd given me time to take you home — ' Zane said, irritated.
'Mother Nature has her own ways — as do we all.' Zane wasn't satisfied, but had to leave her. 'Keep an eye on her. Mortis,' he called, and the pale horse neighed agreement. Zane doubted any natural force would threaten Luna while the Death steed watched.
'Now don't go looking for trouble with that woman,' Luna cautioned him. 'Remember, you are not dealing with an ordinary person.'
Did his ire show so clearly? Zane wrapped his cloak about him and climbed into the little car. He glanced back at Luna, standing there in the field, all slender and lovely, her jewels gleaming at head and toe, a dream of a woman. Damn Nature, to take him away from her, even briefly!
The car controls were standard. He started the motor, put the vehicle in gear, and followed the asphalt road into the forest. The trees closed in overhead, forming a living canopy. It was a pleasant drive.
Ahead, he spied an intersection. The light was poor because of the shade, so he slowed. It was well he did so, for there was a pedestrian walking by the side of the road, wearing a dark cape that rendered him almost invisible. It would have been all too easy to hit that careless walker.
Just as Zane came up to the pedestrian, a cyclist shot out of the intersection and swerved to pass the walking man. This carried the cyclist directly into Zane's path. He tromped on the brake pedal and screeched to a stop just in time. 'You idiot!' he swore at the cyclist, who was blithely pedaling ahead, unconcerned by the close call. 'You could have caused a fatal collision!' He was also not pleased with the pedestrian, who had not paid attention to his surroundings and had taken no evasive action. But he could not dally here; he had an appointment with Nature that he wanted to get out of the way so he could return to Luna. He drove on.
The road abruptly dead-ended at a bog contained by an embankment. Zane parked, got out, and leaned over the rim of the bog to touch its surface. Immediately a spot of mud boiled up, spitting out a gobbet of yellow goop that looked hot and smelled terrible. Zane jerked his hand away, though his Death glove would have protected his fingers. The old instincts of life remained with him.
How was he to cross this morass? For he could see, now, the spire of a distant castle, directly across the bog. Nature guarded her residence well! It occurred to him that this was some sort of a test or challenge; no ordinary person could get through, but an Incarnation could. He had to prove which kind he was. After that, he might have something to say to the Green Mother. She had interrupted what had become an important date before it could become more important yet, and now was wasting his time with the riddle of how to approach her. It might not be wise for the ordinary person to trifle with Nature — but neither was it healthy to tempt Death.
But first he had to reach her. She had neatly deprived him of his steed, who could readily have handled this obstruction. How could he cross without miring himself in hot mud?
He studied the near shore of the bog. Perched just beside the retaining wall was a small building, perhaps an
