move weights about the scale. And in any event, a resonance, as you say, is highly unlikely.'
Rosimar's face contorted even further. 'Out!' he commanded. 'Out! There is no time left for excuses!'
Jemidon started to say more; but before he could, one of the oarsmen from the day before raced into the room. 'Master Rosimar,' he cried, 'master Rosimar, come quickly to my mistress' bidding! She will pay you ample fee!'
'What has happened?' Jemidon asked, trying to block out his thoughts about what he had caused to occur. The feeling was all too familiar, and he did not want to wallow in it again.
'Most unexpected,' the oarsman replied, 'and yet most welcome news indeed. Trocolar the trader has changed his mind. He will redeposit his holdings into the grotto and with even more tokens besides. Augusta will earn her fee and a larger one than before.'
'She asks for me?' Rosimar shook himself away from surveying the wreckage. 'Augusta asked specifically for me?'
'Trocolar brings with him his magician, Holgon, to ensure that all is secure. The mistress wants to be represented properly as well.'
Rosimar straightened and pushed out his chest. He glared at Jemidon a final time. 'An opportunity,' he said. 'An opportunity despite the hellhole. An opportunity for her to realize who is her better choice.'
'My original treasure plus hundreds more,' Trocolar said. 'You may deduct the storage fee from what is there.'
'Why the sudden reversal?' Augusta asked. Even in the dim imp light, Jemidon could see the suspicion in her eyes. They were all huddled together around the chests in the vault, their voices echoing from the walls above the beat of the pumps and the drip of seeping water. Trocolar had already been there when he and Rosimar had arrived. There had been no time to tell her what had happened at the guild-not that he could explain the events in a manner that would keep Rosimar's look of contempt from spreading to Augusta's face.
'Why the reversal?' Trocolar shrugged. 'It is because of my new partner, the one whom Holgon found. He has presented to me a plan that is greatly to my benefit. For my part of the bargain, all I have to do is carry out a few simple steps, like redepositing my tokens here, along with his more modest amount. He was furious when he learned that I had made a withdrawal. So many tokens in one spot, he said. Far more than he could quickly assemble himself, each the result of an independent act of ritual, none of them shielded by a magic vault. And the more there are, the easier is Holgon's task.'
'What has Holgon to do with this?' Augusta asked.
'He arrives shortly,' Trocolar said. 'As long as he can perform his ritual of safekeeping here, then these treasures are again yours to guard.'
'Other than the pumps and the tokens themselves, there is no magic needed here,' Augusta said. 'It is the tide alone that keeps the vault in the grotto secure. You know that as well as I.'
'Nevertheless, my partner insists,' Trocolar replied. 'He has prescribed the ritual himself. And you can use your Rosimar here to ensure that nothing goes amiss.'
'I am no bondsman to Augusta,' Rosimar said weakly. He pushed himself from where he sagged against the slimy wall and tried to fill his lungs. Jemidon saw the color return to his cheeks.
'I serve her for a fee,' Rosimar continued, 'and because-because that is what I choose.'
'Dear Rosimar.' Augusta stroked the magician's arm. 'Your fear of small places has not gotten any better. I would have asked another master, but you are the one I trust the most in such affairs as these.'
'No matter.' Rosimar swallowed. 'My strength is already returning. And I am as curious as the rest about what this ritual of safekeeping might be. At Cantor Guild we have heard of nothing like it.'
'Nor has any other on the island,' a voice rang out from the shaft leading to the landing above. A magician, robed in black like Rosimar, splashed down onto the vault floor. Heavy-framed and balding, his eyes were deep-set and burned with some hidden hunger. 'It is an example of a new departure. Like none you have seen before.'
'So say they all, Holgon, so say they all,' Rosimar replied, 'But somehow, on close examination, the new rituals turn out to be mere variations on what has worked before.'
Holgon ignored the remark and turned to direct a neophyte struggling down the shaft with the magician's gear. 'Your partner arrived with me, expert Trocolar,' he called over his shoulder, 'and he says that we may begin. He would join you down here in the vault, except that the air circulates too little for his needs. The landing above is as close as he chooses to come.'
'But it was to be this very place,' Trocolar protested. 'He explained that no other would do.'
'He assures that all is well,' Hoigon said. 'Once the tokens are securely hidden in their chests and the pumps are stopped, then I can proceed.'
'Stop the pumps?' Augusta exclaimed. 'But then the vault will begin to fill!'
'Only for the duration of my ritual, so that there is no distraction,' Holgon said. 'It will be short enough so that little additional seepage will occur.'
Jemidon saw Augusta look at Rosimar and the magician shrug indifference. She signaled an attendant by the pumps, and soon the deep, rhythmic throbbing stopped.
Holgon bowed slightly to Augusta and moved to where his neophyte had erected two tripods in front of an uncluttered stretch of wall. On each was a small box, colored in bright blue with a red sash running around the edges and yellow, five-pointed stars in the middle of each face.
Holgon pushed the tripods closer together and then lifted one of the boxes from its stand. With exaggerated flourishes, he unhinged each side of the box from the top. Holding it in his hand, he slowly scanned it in front of the group. The magician replaced it on its stand and repeated the procedure with the other.
'Street conjuring,' Rosimar snorted. 'No ritual of true magic has such gaudy display.'
Holgon did not seem to notice the comment. With his face frozen in a blank smile, he produced a small dove from the sleeve of his robe and pointed at a jeweled collar around its neck. 'A bracelet of teleportation,' he said. 'Completed except for the final step.'
Then he placed the dove in the box on the left and snapped shut the sides and lid. He showed the one on the right a second time and closed it up as well.
'And now we wait a moment until the conditions are right,' Holgon said. With a flourish, he drew his arms inside opposite sleeves and stood staring straight ahead.
For a moment, everyone was silent, and nothing happened. Then Jemidon felt a sudden jerk from somewhere deep inside. His feeling on Morgana-the one on the top of the cliff, watching Drandor's projections-swelled up within him, only this time more intense. Again he felt cast loose, as if a tug of the tide had parted a mooring rope and set him adrift. He pressed his hands to his sides and squared his feet on the slippery ground. Inwardly, he drifted, gathering speed, joining an invisible current that was sweeping him away.
'The journey begins.' A muffled voice snaked down the shaft. 'Set the example so that it can be properly completed.'
Holgon grunted and resumed his ritual. He produced a small wand from his sleeve and sent it through a rapid series of gyrations.
Jemidon no longer had any interest in following the ritual. He looked at the others, but none showed any sign of discomfort. All were watching what the magician was doing.
Holgon tapped the box on the left, and the sides unlatched and fell open. It was empty, and the dove was gone. Then he put the wand away and carefully cradled the box on the right to his chest. Opening the top, he reached inside and produced the bird wearing the collar. The magician waved the dove back and forth; with a small bow, he hid it back in the container.
Without waiting for comment, Holgon rapidly repeated the steps he had just performed. When he was done, he showed the right-hand box to be empty and the dove to occupy the left. A murmur of impatience ran through the watching assemblage, but Holgon paid no attention. Again he enacted the ritual and yet again.
'And thus it is finished,' Holgon shouted out finally after the ninth performance. 'The fortunes and futures of expert Trocolar are now well secured.'
Jemidon suddenly felt the drifting feeling stop and things anchor as firmly as they were before. In an instant, there was not even a glimmer remaining of what he had felt. As quickly as it had come, the sensation faded away. He shook his head in annoyance, then released the tension in his arms and legs. He could move about as he always had done. There was no feeling of danger that he might leave the ground and float away.
