to remain as untroubled-seeming as possible. I will have to stop pacing and watching, stop mumbling.
He lay there and opened his being and felt the sobering chill of the heights.
After that, he took to silence and slow movement. It was more difficult than he had thought to suppress his smaller reactions. But he suppressed them, sometimes seating himself, clasping his hands and counting through the thousands. The mirrors showed him that he wore a good-sized beard. His jester's garb grew worn and soiled. Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him. Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.
Is there a spell involved? he wondered. Or is it just the effects of prolonged monotony? Probably the latter. I think I'd sense his spell, though he's a better magician than 1. Soon now, soon. Soon he will be coming to me. He will feel that it is taking too long to distress me. There will come a counter-effect. He will be troubled. Soon, now. Soon he will come.
When he did, Jack had had advance notice.
He awakened to find a drawn bath-his second since his arrival, how many ages ago?- and a fresh costume. He scrubbed himself and donned the green-and-white garb. This time, he let the bells remain above his toes and he adjusted the cap to a rakish angle.
He seated himself then, clasped his hands behind his head and smiled faintly. He would not allow his appearance to betray the nervousness he felt.
When the air began to shimmer and he heard the note, he glanced in that direction and nodded slightly.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," said the other. "How are you?"
"Quite recovered. I'd say. I should like to be taking my leave soon."
"In matters of health one cannot be too careful. I would say that you still require rest. But we shall discuss that matter at a later time.
"I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you," he went on. "I have been occupied by matters which required my full attention."
"That is all right," said Jack. "All efforts will shortly come to nothing."
The Lord of Bats studied his face, as though seeking some sign of madness upon it. Then he seated himself and, "What do you mean?" he inquired.
Jack turned his left palm upward, and, "If all things end," he said, "then all efforts will come to nothing."
"Why should all things end?"
"Have you paid heed to the temperature recently, good my Lord?"
"No," said the other, perplexed, "I have not stirred physically from my keep for a long while."
"It might prove instructive for you to do so. Or, better yet, open your being to the emanations from the Shield."
"I shall-in private.-But there is always some leakage. The seven whose presences are required to dam it will learn of it and act. There is no cause for concern or foreboding."
"There is if one of the seven is confined and unable to respond."
The other's eyes widened.
"I don't believe you," he said.
Jack shrugged.
"I was seeking a safe place from which I might disembark when you offered me your- uh, hospitality. It is certainly easy enough to verify."
"Then why did you not speak of it sooner?"
"Why?" asked Jack. "If my sanity is to be destroyed, what is it to me whether the rest of the world goes on existing or is destroyed?"
''That is a very selfish attitude," said the Lord of Bats.
"It is my attitude," said Jack, and he jingled his bells.
"I suppose I must go check your story." The other sighed, rising.
"I'll wait here." said Jack.
The Lord of Bats led him into the high hall that lay beyond the iron door, and there he cut his bonds.
Jack looked about him. There were familiar designs worked in mosaics on the floor, heaps of rushes in the corners, dark hangings upon the walls, a small central altar with a table of instruments beside it, an odor of incense in the air.
Jack took a step forward.
"Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells," said the Lord of
He lay there and opened his being and felt the sobering chill of the heights.
After that, he took to silence and slow movement. It was more difficult than he had thought to suppress his smaller reactions. But he suppressed them, sometimes seating himself, clasping his hands and counting through the thousands. The mirrors showed him that he wore a good-sized beard. His jester's garb grew worn and soiled. Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him. Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.
Is there a spell involved? he wondered. Or is it just the effects of prolonged monotony? Probably the latter. I think I'd sense his spell, though he's a better magician than 1. Soon now, soon. Soon he will be coming to me. He will feel that it is taking too long to distress me. There will come a counter-effect. He will be troubled. Soon, now. Soon he will come.
When he did, Jack had had advance notice.
He awakened to find a drawn bath-his second since his arrival, how many ages ago?- and a fresh costume. He scrubbed himself and donned the green-and-white garb. This time, he let the bells remain above his toes and he adjusted the cap to a rakish angle.
He seated himself then, clasped his hands behind his head and smiled faintly. He would not allow his appearance to betray the nervousness he felt.
When the air began to shimmer and he heard the note, he glanced in that direction and nodded slightly.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," said the other. "How are you?"
"Quite recovered. I'd say. I should like to be taking my leave soon."
"In matters of health one cannot be too careful. I would say that you still require rest. But we shall discuss that matter at a later time.
"I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you," he went on. "I have been occupied by matters which required my full attention."
"That is all right," said Jack. "All efforts will shortly come to nothing."
The Lord of Bats studied his face, as though seeking some sign of madness upon it. Then he seated himself and, "What do you mean?" he inquired.
Jack turned his left palm upward, and, "If all things end," he said, "then all efforts will come to nothing."
"Why should all things end?"
"Have you paid heed to the temperature recently, good my Lord?"
"No," said the other, perplexed, "I have not stirred physically from my keep for a long while."
"It might prove instructive for you to do so. Or, better yet, open your being to the emanations from the Shield."
"I shall-in private.-But there is always some leakage. The seven whose presences are required to dam it will learn of it and act. There is no cause for concern or foreboding."
"There is if one of the seven is confined and unable to respond."
The other's eyes widened.
"I don't believe you," he said.
Jack shrugged.
"I was seeking a safe place from which I might disembark when you offered me your- uh, hospitality. It is certainly easy enough to verify."
"Then why did you not speak of it sooner?"
"Why?" asked Jack. "If my sanity is to be destroyed, what is it to me whether the rest of the world goes on existing or is destroyed?"
''That is a very selfish attitude," said the Lord of Bats.
"It is my attitude," said Jack, and he jingled his bells.
"I suppose I must go check your story." The other sighed, rising.
"I'll wait here." said Jack.
The Lord of Bats led him into the high hall that lay beyond the iron door, and there he cut his bonds.
Jack looked about him. There were familiar designs worked in mosaics on the floor, heaps of rushes in the corners, dark hangings upon the walls, a small central altar with a table of instruments beside it, an odor of incense in the air.
Jack took a step forward.
"Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells," said the Lord of
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