Free Wheel of Stars by Andre Norton Page A

pulsation of the globe. There were no longer any figures moving through that—instead the light appeared to be ebbing, fading, even as the smoke itself thinned and was at last gone.

5
    The smoke drifted into nothingness, the light dimmed, vanished from the globe. Gwennan raised her hand—a faint hint of warmth lingered against her fingertips. She picked up the tray on which that strange lamp balanced, holding to it firmly as she got to her feet, turned to carry it into the real world of the kitchen.
    When her burden rested on the well scrubbed surface of the large table there it did not vanish—it was real enough. A ball of glass or perhaps crystal, perfectly shaped, polished, but now clear and empty. The girl touched it again warily. It shifted a fraction, then rolled from its base to drop into the tray, crunching on what was left of the blue sand-gravel there. Now was revealed what had been lying beneath it. The pedestal on which it had rested was a dark green glistening stone—carved like the curling upward of breaking sea waves—in the midst of which—
    Gwennan stared unbelievingly. She had seen it before—many times—as many as she had seen Lady Lyle. That chain of intricate, intermingledand oddly shaped bits of metal had been silver, overcast with a green which caught and held the eye. The pendant itself was of silver—an orb surrounded with horns, full moon—half moon wedded together.
    The side which lay uppermost now was not blank as the other she had always seen before. Peering closely Gwennan detected the disc portion patterned by a circling of symbols as might appear on the face of a watch. Save these, glowing green as they now appeared, were not numerals at all. Small as they were they had been so clearly wrought that they were perfectly visible. These were the signs of the zodiac. Also there existed no hands to mark hour and minutes, but from the mid-point of that disc, shone a bar of light apparently within the surface itself—a triangle which touched, with either end, one of those symbols.
    How this treasure had come here—or why—Gwennan could not guess. Only somehow she knew that it was hers, that she was meant to take it, as much as if Lady Lyle had openly put it in her hands at their last meeting.
    She was reluctant to touch it. This was like standing before a door—if one opened it, would there ensue a vast change in her life? She was certain of that, as if a promise had so accompanied with this treasure. Was she prepared to open the door—step forward—enter—what?
    Gwennan dropped into a chair, leaned her elbows on the table surface and supported her chin in her hands, studying what lay there. She had a choice, a fair and open choice. Yet a part ofher knew that though she had not taken any action she had already made the choice. She licked her lips, reached out and picked up the pendant. Its chain swung, curled about her wrist as if it so anchored itself to her of its own volition. Across the dial that bar of light moved also, swinging as might the hands of a watch to point new units of time—so touching with new symbols.
    On her palm the metal felt warm, like a living thing. Gwennan knew that she could not have put it from her now even if she wished. Instead she straightened out the chain, found the clasp, so that in a moment the pendant rested on her own breast as Lady Lyle had always worn it, the symboled dial hidden, the blank outer silver surface turned to the world.
    The girl sat up straighter, shook her head. This was like waking from a bemusing dream. She was a little puzzled. Save that also there was a growing feeling that this was right, that she had done what was best. Best—for whom? That small doubt she pushed away.
    Arising she went about the house, inspecting locks on doors and windows as she had done ever since the night of the storm. She came to the front door last of all, using her torch to inspect the lock outside. No marks, no indication that it had been forced. And