completed his task.
Finally Jemidon's turn came. He listened, puzzled, while Utothaz wheezed his instructions and then waited patiently for Ponzar to translate what had been said.
'Blue chrysocolla,' the captain explained. 'Two stones motionless a hand span apart. Move them together on a straight line. Accelerate their motion as they draw closer and collide.'
Jemidon climbed down into the pit and reached into the scatter of stones. He coughed once and then shook with a spasm that made his eyes water and blurred his vision. With a feeling of sudden doubt, he closed his fingers around the nearest stone.
'No, not serpentine-chrysocolla,' Ponzar said. 'Two stones of the same type with a force that is to attract.'
Jemidon squinted at his hands and saw that somehow he had picked up the wrong rocks. Staring at the tablestone, he closed on the proper targets and then looked at the carved inscriptions to see where they should be placed. A forest of crosses, squares, and tangled lines swarmed before his eyes. What had been so obvious standing on the edge of the pit was now a hopeless confusion. He stabbed blindly with his left hand and felt the stone jar on contact and slip from his cramped grip.
Jemidon hastily reached out to grab the free stone, but his sleeve swept across the table, knocking a dozen more off the surface to scatter into the pit. He bent forward to pick up what he had spilled and banged his head with a sharp crack against the side of the flat stone. He staggered to his feet, feeling suddenly dizzy, and fell backward, tripping over the telescope, which somehow had tangled between his legs.
One of Utothaz's manipulants, the one who had rushed to aid with the alchemy, slipped past Jemidon and moved the stones in the manner prescribed. The sense of drifting suddenly vanished. The last of the tests had been completed. The laws once more were in effect.
They all had succeeded in the simple exercise. All except Jemidon. Even the simple magics of Melizar's universe were beyond his ability to master.
He blinked aside the film thai was forming in his eyes, searching his mind for what he should say next. He blinked again when he saw the captain bowing on one knee, his shovel dipped at his side.
Ponzar extended his right hand with the index finger pointing at Jemidon, thumb skyward and middle finger to the side. Jemidon whirled to look at the rest. They were all doing the same.
'By the grace of the great right hand, homage to the new pilot,' Ponzar said. 'Homage to the new pilot, or as he would say in his own tongue, homage to the meta-magician, master of all the laws.'
'What do you mean?' Jemidon asked. 'I failed. Of all of these, I was the only one who could not pass the simple test. If I cannot master the basic principles, what hope do I have of controlling the metalaws as well?'
'You are not Melizar's mampulant.' Ponzar rose and pounded his shovel on the ground. 'He would never have sent a possible rival if he knew of that one's power. There is an instinctive distrust that grows as awareness unfolds. No, faraway one, the test has confirmed it. There can be no doubt. You are a metamagician. May the great right hand make you strong.'
'Two metalaws,' Jemidon protested. 'Only two metalaws do I know.'
'There is only one more,' Ponzar said. 'The Verity of Exclusion is the third.'
'As Melizar indicated.' Jemidon nodded. 'After the battle in Plowblade Pass.'
'Exactly so,' Ponzar agreed. 'The Verity of Exclusion, or, as the Skyskirr say, 'if skill with the key, then none with the stone.' You can be a mover of the stones or the one who uncouples, but not both. The great right hand does not permit such talent to reside all in one.'
Jemidon gasped as the words hit him. The implication was staggering, if it were true. Manipulator of the laws or a practitioner, but not both. Talent in one excluded performance in the other. It was the answer to all his failures, bundled neatly in a single mass, coupled to a cause totally outside himself. He felt his lifelong burden suddenly release from his shoulders and sail away. Despite Melizar's twisting of the laws, despite the growing menace of the noxious air, his spirits soared. More swiftly than the fastest lithon, the feeling careened through his thoughts. There was nothing wrong with him. He was as worthy to hold his shoulders straight as the next. He was truly a man, able to return even a master's stare without looking away.
He reached out and grabbed Ponzar's arm. 'I want to believe, Ponzar, most certainly I do. It would explain so much. The bumblings, the miscarriages-they would be tolerable to bear. I could not have become the thaumaturge's apprentice despite my sister's sacrifice, nor the magician's initiate, nor Farnel's tyro, nor any of the rest. It is a law, a metalaw, that prevented me all the while.'
Jemidon managed to laugh. He almost jumped to click his heels, but remembered in time and grabbed onto the safety rope. He ran the facts through his mind; as they fell into place, one by one, his smile broadened. On Morgana, he could not work the simplest charms until after sorcery was no longer a law. He had fumbled through the ritual in Rosimar's guild, even though it was the simplest step. In the grotto, he could not grasp the rock- cutting sword. And even alchemy-when the domain was tightly coupled and the formula had no part of law, he remembered perfectly. But just now, when there was Indeed a chance to effect its potency, he could not recall a thing. He was suited for no craft. No master's robe would he ever wear. It would be that of a metamagician instead, one whose skills transcended all laws. He could-
Jemidon stopped and frowned at Ponzar. 'You say that there are only three metalaws, and now I know them all. The constraint of seven I understand and the manipulation of least contradictions as well. But the uncoupling.' Jemidon shrugged. 'I know nothing of the working of Metizar's cube or even Utothaz's pyramid.'
'Those are only the crutches,' Ponzar said. 'The aids that help bring forth the powers the pilots possess inside. They are bound to the gradual awakenings, the growing understanding of the working of the laws. For each pilot, it is different, something unique to his own being, something that resonates with what molded him into the power that he is to be.'
'But I have no such device,' Jemidon said. 'The only thing remotely resembling it would be this old coinchanger I carry and the puzzle that-'
Jemidon halted a second time. The thoughts were coming clear and fast. 'Benedict's puzzle. Twenty-five coins,' he mumbled. 'The trick is to insert them in such a way that each column ends up with only one type. I have done the best I can, but have yet to come up with the solution. There is no way with twenty-five already in the chambers to set the initial state properly before I make any discharge. I would need something else, another from the outside. A twenty-sixth to have it right.'
Jemidon's eyes blinked as it all rushed together in a flash. With trembling fingers, he removed the leather thong from around his neck and untied the knot. Slowly he slid the worn brandel from the loop. Holding his breath, he inserted it into the changer.
Jemidon heard it tinkle into the innards and paused a moment more. 'Dranbots,' he said, fingering the leftmost column. He pressed the lever and saw the glitter of five identical coins in his palm. 'Galleons,' he said more excitedly as he pushed the next. 'Regals, coppers, and finally gold brandels, the last of all.'
Jemidon pushed the final lever slowly, holding his lips in a tight line. He felt the strain of the stretched rope and then a sudden snap as the universe started to drift. Ponzar and the others resumed their reverent bows. It was true. Jemidon had decoupled the laws.
For a moment, no one spoke. Jemidon felt dazed from the staggering immensity of what he had learned. He was a metamagician, master of the three metalaws. At first he had thought he was pursuing a sixth magic, but now he understood that that concept was wrong. Although only seven could have power at one time, there were a countless number of magics, each governed by its own laws. Metamagic was something entirely different, with three metalaws of its own. And the metamagician was able to deactivate the underlying principles of a whole universe and replace them with others at his command.
Without thinking, Jemidon reached back to the table-stone and fiddled with the small rocks so that the laws would reengage. One of the manipulants scrambled forward and, with a slight bow, pushed aside his hand.
Jemidon frowned in puzzlement for a moment and then laughed. 'Of course, I cannot perform the craft. It will take some getting used to. Um, black sphalerite, moving in a single line. Bring them to touching with increasing speed.'
The manipulant looked back at Ponzar and heard the translation. Soon the laws were reestablished and Jemidon sagged to the table, the intense wash of emotion robbing the strength in his legs.
'The manipulants?' he asked Ponzar. 'You said before that they must be attuned to the metamagician's power as well.'
