“There have been others, then?” Miller asked. “A man named Van Hornung—did he come here?”
She shook her head, the rainbow hair catching the sunlight. “Not here. There are many castles in our land and most of them live at peace within and without. But not Brann’s.”
“Then why are you here?” Miller asked bluntly.
She smiled an unhappy smile. “Most of us came because we felt as Brann does—we did not care very much any more. We wanted to follow our pleasures, being tired of other pursuits after so many thousands of years. All except me.”
“Thousands of. … What do you mean? Why are you here then?”
Her mouth turned down at the corners in a rueful smile.
“Well—perhaps I too was warped before birth. I can’t leave Brann now. He needs me. That doesn’t matter to you. Brann’s dangerous—his heart is set on—on experiments that will need you to complete. We won’t talk about that.”
Miller said, “I came here for a purpose.”
“I know. I read part of your mind while you lay asleep. You’re hunting for a treasure. We have it. Or perhaps I should say Orelle has it.” The violet eyes darkened. She hesitated.
“Perhaps I’m sending you to Orelle for a purpose,” she said. “You can do me a great service there—and yourself too. That treasure you seek is—should be partly mine. You think of it as a power-source. To me it’s a doorway into something better than any of us knows. …
“Our father made it, long ago. Orelle has it now, though by rights she and I should share it. If you find a way to get that treasure, my friend, will you bring it to me?”
Long-grooved habit-patterns in Miller’s mind made him say automatically, “And if I do?”
She smiled. “If you don’t,” she said, “Brann will have you sooner or later. If I can get it I think I can—control Brann. If I can’t—well, you will be the first sufferer. I think you know that. You’ll do well to persuade Orelle if you can. Now—I’ve made a bargain with Brann. Don’t ask me what. You may learn, later.
“Go to Orelle, watch your chance and be wary. If you ask for the treasure you’ll never get near it. Better not to speak of it but wait and watch. No one can read your mind unless you will it, now that you’re learning telepathy, but watch too that you let nothing slip from your thoughts to warn her.”
“You want me to take her hospitality and then rob her?”
Distress showed in Tsi’s face. “Oh, no! I ask only what’s mine, and even that only for long enough to control Brann. Then you may return the treasure to Orelle or strike a bargain with her over it. Five minutes with that in my hands is all I ask! Now here is something I’ve made for you out of your own possession. Hold out your wrist.”
Staring, he obeyed. She unclosed her hand to show him his wristwatch in her palm. Smiling, she buckled the strap around his arm. “It isn’t quite as it was. I changed it. If you need me concentrate on this and speak to me in your mind. I’ll hear.”
There were countless questions still unasked. Miller took a deep breath and began to formulate them in his mind. And then—Tsi vanished! The earth was gone from underfoot and he spun through golden emptiness, dropping, falling. The water-wall hung beneath him. He floated in midair a hundred feet above the crag-bordered stream at the cliffs bottom!
Panic struck him. Then Tsi’s reassuring thought said, “You are safe. This is teleportation.”
He scarcely heard. An age-old instinctive fear chilled his middle. For a million years men have been afraid of falling. He could not now control that fear.
Slowly he began to drop. He lost sight of Tsi and the golden trees and then of the water-wall.
Under him the stream broadened.
He sank down at an angle—and felt solid ground beneath his feet.
There was silence except for the whispering murmur of the stream.
III
The World That Couldn’t Be
Miller sat down on a rock and held his head in his hands. His thoughts were swimming. Cold, fresh air blew against his cheeks and he raised his face to meet that satisfying chill. It seemed to rouse him. He began to realize that he had been half asleep during the interview with Tsi, as though the mists of his slumber had still blanketed his senses. Otherwise he would scarcely have accepted this miraculous business.
Or was there another reason?
He felt a desperate impulse to see Tsi again. She could answer his questions, if she would. And she had been the first friendly face he had seen in this terribly strange land.
He looked up and willed himself to rise.
Impossible, of course. My own bootstraps, he thought, with a wild sort of amusement. Were his feet pressing less heavily on the rock beneath him?
And then, from above, came a high, thin laughter that was not truly audible—Brann!
Even before the mental voice came, that malicious, slow thought sent its familiar radiations before it. Something as recognizable as sound or color—more so!—fell down the cliff and crept coldly into Miller’s brain. He knew that unheard voice.
“You had better not come up,” it said.
Miller stood motionless, waiting. Instinctively he had fallen into the fighter’s crouch. But how useless ordinary precautions would be against this super-being!
He tried to close his mind.
“Go to Orelle, then,” it said. “I’ve made my bargain with Tsi and I’ll keep it. But she’s a fool. She always tries to close her mind to unpleasant things. She’ll never really admit we’re at war with her sister. As long as she doesn’t name it war, she thinks it’s something else.”
Again the high laughter.
“Go to Orelle,” Brann said. “I’m winning too easily. Perhaps they can use another fighter. Then they may be able
