'Neither am I,' said Millhorn, 'but I'll tell you what happened. We fought for a solid hour. I've never met a magician that strong, and if he had known anything about the Kabbala, we might not be sitting here now. In any case, the local farmers must have thought it was a winter thunderstorm, the way we carried on. Funny thing, though, and you'll have to tell me more about that man. I knew you both were coming, of course. I've known for years through specular stones and certain dark hints in my books, and through dreams. But-'
'Get back to what you were saying,' said Prospero, who had stopped turning the grinder. 'What do you mean by 'funny thing'?'
'I was getting to that. Well, his mind had a way of coming... unfocused. That's the only way I can put it. I could feel the force of his spells bursting around me or rushing past me, and once or twice I came close to being destroyed. But, his concentration wavered and never built up into the kind of power I knew he could wield. It's a harrowing feeling to face someone you know can kill you if he puts his mind to it. But, he didn't put his mind to it. He kept going back to something else that had nothing to do with me. Finally, I hit him with a thing I'd never had the courage to use before. Its a long chant, and if you don't get it all out in one breath, it turns on you. A huge red pentacle appeared in the air with an Aleph in the middle of it, and when it burst, I was knocked down. When I got up, the light was gone. His light, that is, since I never saw any more of him than that yellow lantern glowing at the bottom of the stairs. I clumped out through the snow and found a book lying on the steps. It was open to the last page, and I don't mind telling you I couldn't read a blessed word. At the bottom, though, where the colophon usually is in old books, there was something you would have recognized. Four dolphins in the shape of a cross, the sign of the four elementals, the spirits who were chained centuries ago by wizards whose names are not even known anymore. As I stood looking at it, the book appeared to be... well... reading itself. The letters glowed, one after another, and the book gave off such a heat that I couldn't get near it. Then, all of a sudden, it crumpled into a black ball of ashes and sank into the snow. Something was over, and you'll have to tell me what.'
He stopped, took a long drink of gin, and went on.
'I do, however, have an idea of what happened to the sorcerer. There is a stone marker, a leaning thing with letters up and down the sides. Its at the crossroads near my house, and it wasn't there before. If you stand next to it, you have the feeling that someone is looking at you.
Prospero looked sadly at him. 'Yes, I think you're right. You see, the globes always showed...'
He was interrupted by a sound like a two-man saw biting into a tree full of nails. The mirror was asleep.
