'The slave was then carried onto the stage in the closed trunk, her body fastened somehow to the inside of the back panel.'
'In a sling of sorts,' I said.
'She was then hanging down, fastened to the side of the back panel away from the audience, when the trunk was opened?'
'Yes,' I said.
'And was returned to the interior of the trunk with the shielded lifting of the back panel?'
'Yes,' I said. 'And once within the trunk, it then closed again, she could, of course, her hands being free enough in the sirik to accomplish this, undo the straps, and conceal them in the flooring of the trunk, in a slot prepared for the purpose.'
'Then it was not magic?' he said.
'That depends on what you mean by 'magic',' I said.
'You know what I mean,' he said, somewhat disagreeably.
'No,' I said. 'It was not magic.'
'But it could have been magic,' he said.
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'Even those these wonders could have been accomplished so easily by mere trickery, that does not prove they were!'
'No,' I said. 'I suppose not.'
'The same effect might have quite different causes,' he said, 'for example, in these cases, having been achieved either by mere charlatanry or by genuine magic.'
'I have seen the equipment,' I said. I had, in one of the wagons of the ponderous fellow several months ago. I had even diddled about with it, for my own amusement.
'But that does not prove it was used!' said Marcus.
'I suppose not,' I said. 'I suppose that these effects, so easily wrought by a skilled fellow, who knows how to bring them about, might actually, in these cases, have been produced not by familiar trickery but by the application of uncanny and marvelous powers.'
'Certainly,' said Marcus.
'Would you believe the fellow if he showed you how he did it?' I asked.
'He might show me how it could be done, but not how he actually did it,' said Marcus. 'He might lie to me, to conceal from me his possession of mysterious powers.'
'Well,' I said, 'I never thought about that.' I never had. 'I guess you're right,' I said.
Marcus walked on beside me for a way. Then suddenly he burst out, angrily, 'The charlatan, the fraud!'
'Are you angry?' I asked.
'They are only tricks!' he said.
'Good tricks,' I said.
'But only tricks!'
'I don't think he ever claimed they weren't,' I said.
'He should be boiled in oil!' cried Marcus.
'To me that seems somewhat severe,' I said.
'Tricks!' said Marcus.
'I suppose you now respect them the less,' I said.
'Charlatanry!' he murmured. 'Trickery! Fraud!'
'I think that I myself,' I said, 'apparently responding to this sort of thing rather differently from yourself, admire them the more as I understand how ingenious and wonderful they are, as tricks. I think I should be awed by them, but would not find so much to admire in them, if I thought they were merely the manifestations of unusual powers, as, for example, the capacity to turn folks into turtles or something.'
'Perhaps,' he said.
'Certainly,' I said.
'I would not wish to be a turtle,' he said.
'So let us trust,' I said, 'that folks do not abound who can wreak such wonders.'
'True,' he said.
'Similarly,' I said, 'if there were such a thing as 'real magic' in your sense, whatever that might be, the world would presumably be much different than it is.'
'There might be a great many more turtles,' he said.
'Quite possibly,' I said.
I did not doubt, of course, from what I knew of them, that the science of Priest-Kings was such that many unusual effects could be achieved. And, indeed, I did not doubt but what many such were well within the scope of the several sciences of the Kurii, as well. But these effects, of course, were rationally explicable, at least to those with the pertinent techniques and knowledge at their disposal, effects which were the fruits of unusual sciences and technologies. I did not think that Marcus needed to know about such things. How inexplicable and marvelous to a savage might appear a match, a handful of beads, a mirror, a stick of candy, a tennis ball.
'The slave was not in Anango!' he cried.
'No,' I said. 'I would not think so.'
'But she said so, or let it be thought!' he said. 'She is thus a lying slave and should be punished. Let her be whipped to the bone!'
'Oh, come now,' I said. 'She is playing her part in the show, in the entertainment. She is enjoying herself, along with everyone else. And she is a slave. What do you expect her to say? To tell the truth, and spoil the show, or perhaps have her master flogged? Do you not think such ill-thought-out intrepidity would swiftly bring her luscious hide into contact with the supple switch?'
'Yes,' he said. 'It is the master who is to blame.'
'I do hope you get on with him,' I said.
'What?' he cried.
'Yes,' I said, 'and, indeed, I would even recommend that you be nice to him.'
'Why?' asked Marcus.
'Because,' I said, 'it is he who is going to obtain for you the Home Stone of Ar's Station.'
18 Our Wallets are in Order
'Here we are,' I said.
We had been walking about for some time after the show, even past the time of curfew the constraints of which, because of our affixed armbands, as auxiliary guardsmen, we had not the least difficulty in circumventing. Challenged, we challenged back. Questioned, we questioned. And if our challenges and questions were satisfactorily met, we would proceed further, first volunteering, of course, in deference to alternative authority, our own names and missions in turn. If notes were to be later compared at some headquarters, as I did not expect they would be, some officers might have been astonished to learn how many sets of auxiliary guardsmen and diverse missions had been afoot that night. 'This is the insula,' I said, 'at which resides the great Renato and his troupe.'
'The magician?' said Marcus.
'Yes,' I said. I had made inquiries into this matter prior to leaving the theater, Marcus waiting outside for me, pondering the wonders he was convinced he had beheld within.
'I would not keep the stripped, lashed Ubara of a captured city chained in a kennel such as this,' he said.
'Surely you would do so,' I said.
'Well, perhaps,' he admitted.
Some believe such women should be prepared quickly for the collar and others that the matter may be drawn out, teasingly, until even she, trying to deny it to herself all the while, realizes what her eventual lot is to
