divulgent nibbled at his lip and darted his eyes about the alcove. With a long sigh, he slumped his shoulders and resumed wringing his hands.
'They left the equipment here untouched.' Jemidon grabbed at Benedict as the divulgent started back for the corner. 'Look about, man. Maybe there is something we still can learn by keen observation or something that Melizar said that can yet key a discovery.'
'So close and yet so different,' Benedict replied absently. 'So unlike where we almost succeeded before.'
'Yes, that is the idea,' Jemidon said. 'Melizar's words when he touched the lattice. You remember them well.'
'Those are his exact words. A divulgent must retain what he is told with no repetition, else he will find he has paid for nothing.'
'You remember all the conversation?' Jemidon asked. 'Everything?'
'Strange, I was sure we secured the entrance-' Benedict nodded and began again, but Jemidon excitedly waved him to stop.
'Never mind about Holgon. Concentrate on Melizar. What did he say when they were heating the stones?'
'Eventually they will be sufficiently transparent. Never as fine-'
'No, after that.'
'The Rule of the Threshold, or 'fleeting in sight, fixed in mind.''
'And the Maxim of Perseverance,' Jemidon added. He began to pace within the small confines of their cell, nervously fingering the old coin around his neck. He squeezed between two open crates and flexed his palm around the grip of one of the unbroken swords.
' 'Repetition unto success.' Melizar spoke of laws. As if they guided his efforts like those that apply to the crafts-'
Jemidon paused as his thoughts suddenly exploded. 'The glamours of the marketplace,' he said after a moment. 'And a ritual almost the same as the Rhythm of Refraction. Sorcery is governed by the Rule of Three, and Melizar spoke of a Rule of the Threshold. Magic obeys the Maxim of Persistence, and he talked of perseverance instead.'
Jemidon's eyes widened and he slapped his thigh. 'That's it, Benedict, don't you see? Sorcery and magic are not merely inoperative. There are still seven laws, just as there were before. The laws have not simply vanished. They have been replaced, substituted by ones similar but not quite the same. Seven laws. Seven before and still seven after the transformation.'
Jemidon stopped a second time and looked out into the storeroom. The leap of intuition was based on nothing substantial, but somehow he knew he was right. He grabbed a piece of debris and threw it through the bars to strike the imp bottle attached to the overhead beam.
'The Postulate of Invariance.' The imp fluttered to life. 'Seven exactly; there can be no more. The lattice, it is my master's master's. You cannot touch.'
'Yes, the Postulate of Invariance!' Jemidon yelled, grabbing Benedict by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth. 'Invariance. A constant. Seven laws. There can be no more or no less. Whenever one is turned off, another must take its place.
'It is a new law of the arts, Benedict! We have found another law! No, wait, not a law but a metalaw. A law about the laws. A statement that there are many, but that only seven can be in effect at any one time. Different arts, many principles that guide them.
'And no one even suspected. Not even the archmage. It has been the same throughout history, from the very first sagas. The seven that we know so well were painstakingly discovered, and then no more were found. For at least a thousand years and, who knows, maybe back to the beginning of time, there have been seven constant laws and no reason to suspect that there could be more.'
'You gibber too fast for even a divulgent,' Benedict said. 'Laws or metalaws, such abstractions make little difference. There is more to be gleaned from the tangible. What of this lattice of which the imp speaks?'
'The lattice is the proof,' Jemidon said. 'It is the-the road map by which one navigates through the realm of the laws. The first vertex Melizar touched represented the seven laws as we know them. Move one node to the right and the Rule of Three was replaced by the Rule of the Threshold. Continuing in that direction would change sorcery to something more exotic still. Instead, the next change was in a different direction, changing the Maxim of Persistence to the Maxim of Perseverance. The lattice has seven distinct axes-seven directions, one for each of the laws and the many possibilities along each one.'
'I see no sevenfold mapping throughout that structure.' Benedict squinted at the framework, 'Only in small sections and there for a few nodes at most.'
'It represents only what Melizar has explored,' Jemidon said. 'It is how he keeps track of where he has been. Yes, that is it. Melizar cannot turn off a law; he cannot create one. He can only replace it by the next in line. At the edges, if he moves in a direction for which there is no node, a new law is invoked that must be found through experimentation, one that he does not know.'
'Your thoughts gallop too fast for me to judge their significance,' Benedict protested. 'And they seem to infer too much from the small hints we have heard tonight. How can you construct such fanciful structures from so meager a basis?'
'I-I do not know.' Jemidon slowed his patter. 'It-it just came to me in a rush. I have always been good at seeing the whole from the parts. Perhaps it is because I have had other hints along the way.'
Jemidon stepped back from the grating and took a deep breath. His present danger, his link to Augusta's fate, even if he could escape, and his longing for the robe of a master all faded away in the seductive rush of a new discovery. He felt the exhilaration of finally solving a complex puzzle after many abortive attempts-a last turn that removed a ring from a string or the final piece that made a picture complete.
'In any event, the knowledge is of little value.' Benedict jarred Jemidon's thoughts back to their plight. 'Knowing all the secrets of the universe is of no help if we still must remain here to receive Trocolar's displeasure. If he is indeed elected head of the council, he can make the penalty for trespassing what he will.' The divulgent lowered his eyes. 'Although I doubt it will be as severe as what he would do with an impounded asset.'
'But there are still sorcery and magic,' Jemidon said, 'or at least something very close to them. We can use them to find our way out. As for this new sorcery, or whatever it is called, it involves animations on screens and messages flashed in the blink of an eye. There is nothing here that will aid us to construct a glamour.
'But the new magic gives us the Maxim of Perseverance,' Jemidon continued, picking up the sword from the crate in front of him. 'Perhaps we can use it to enhance this blade and make it strong enough to pick out the mortar between the bricks.'
'A magic sword,' Benedict scoffed. 'You have read too many of the sagas. If indeed there could be such a thing, the guild that could make it would charge two kingdoms' ransom. Producing such an object would require many lifetimes and the labor of hundreds.'
'The Maxim of Persistence is no more,' Jemidon said. ''I am not talking about a blade that forever retains its sharpness. We are dealing now with perseverance instead.' He looked down to the magician at his feet. 'Rosimar, my thoughts still churn too quickly and I cannot remember. What is the ritual for the hardening of the steel that was used in the manufacture of the tokens?'
'The Aura of Adamance,' Rosimar mumbled without looking up. 'It is one that must be mastered before the robe of the inititate is received.'
'And the equipment?' Jemidon asked. 'What is needed to act out the steps?'
'Bells and candles,' Rosimar said, 'magic hexagons drawn on the floor, chalk and pearl dust, and a bottle of ten-year-old wine.'
'We will improvise the best we can.' Jemidon began looking into the storage crates with a fresh perspective. 'Explain the details so that we can begin.'
'No, I am the master,' Rosimar said weakly. 'All credit for magic will be mine.'
'You are indisposed. Rest. Benedict and I can do as you direct.'
'No!' Rosimar struggled to his feet. 'Magic may no longer work, but all rituals will be mine. You stand aside while I perform. I will get the credit. There will be no mistake about who performs with skill.'
Jemidon looked at Rosimar's glistening forehead, the whitened knuckles that gripped the bars, and the eyes that twitched in erratic patterns. 'It is not that important, Rosimar,' he said. 'You perform the ritual if you wish, and I will watch. But be warned, it will not be a single time that we must see it through.'
