So You Want To Be A Wizard

1. Prologue
Part of the problem, Nita thought to herself as she tore desperately down Rose 
Avenue, is that I cant keep my mouth shut.
She had been running for five minutes now, hopping fences, sliding sideways 
through hedges, but she was losing her wind. Some ways behind her she could hear 
Joanne and Glenda and the rest of them pounding along in pursuit, threatening to 
replace her latest now-fading black eye. Well, Joanne would come up to her with 
that new bike, all chrome and silver and gearshift levers and 
speedometer/odometer and toe clips and water bottle, and ask what she thought of 
it. So Nita had told her. Actually, she had told Joanne what she thought of her. 
The bike was all right. In fact, it had been almost exactly the one that Nita 
had wanted so much for her last birthdaythe birthday when she got nothing but 
clothes.
Life can be really rotten sometimes, Nita thought. She wasnt really so 
irritated about that at the moment, however. Running away from a beating was 
taking up most of her attention.
Callahan, came a yell from behind her, Im gonna pound you up and mail you 
home in bottles!
I wonder how many bottles itll take, Nita thought, without much humor. She 
couldnt afford to laugh. With their bikes, theyd catch up to her pretty 
quickly. And then . . . 
She tried not to think of the scene there would be later at homeher father 
raising hands and eyes to the ceiling, wondering loudly enough for the whole 
house to hear, Why didnt you hit them back?; her sister making belligerent 
noises over her new battle scars; her mother shaking her head, looking away 
silently, because she understood. It was her sad look that would hurt Nita more 
than the bruises and scrapes and swollen face would. Her mom would shake her 
head, and clean the hurts up, and sigh . . . 
Crud! Nita thought. The breath was coming hard to her now. She was going to have 
to try to hide, to wait them out. But where? Most of the people around here 
didnt want kids running through their yards. There was Old Crazy Swales house 
with its big landscaped yard, but the rumors among the neighborhood kids said 
that weird things happened in there. Nita herself had noticed that the guy 
didnt go to work like normal people. Better to get beat up again than go in 
there. But where can I hide?
She kept on running down Rose Avenue, and the answer presented itself to her: a 
little brown-brick building with windows warmly alightrefuge, safety, 
sanctuary. The library. Its open, its open, I forgot it was open late on 
Saturday! Oh, thank Heaven! The sight of it gave Nita a new burst of energy. She 
cut across its tidy lawn, loped up the walk, took the five stairs to the porch 
in two jumps, bumped open the front door and closed it behind her, a little too 
loudly.
The library had been a private home once, and it hadnt lost the look of one 
despite the crowding of all its rooms with bookshelves. The walls were paneled 
in mahogany and oak, and the place smelled warm and brown and booky. At the 
thump of the door Mrs. Lesser, the weekend librarian, glanced up from her desk, 
about to say something sharp. Then she saw who was standing there and how hard 
she was breathing. Mrs. Lesser frowned at Nita and then grinned. She didnt miss 
much.
Theres no one downstairs,  she said, nodding at the door that led to the 
childrens library in the single big basement room. Keep quiet and Ill get rid 
of them. 
Thanks, Nita said, and went thumping down the cement stairs. As she reached 
the bottom, she heard the bump and squeak of the front door opening again.
Nita paused to try to hear voices and found that she couldnt. Doubting that her 
pursuers could hear her either, she walked on into the childrens library, 
smiling slightly at the books and the bright posters.
She still loved the place. She loved any library, big or little; there was 
something about all that knowledge, all those facts waiting patiently to be 
found that never failed to give her a shiver. When friends couldnt be found, 
the books were always waiting with something new to tell. Life that was getting 
too much the same could be shaken up in a few minutes by the picture in a book 
of some ancient temple newly discovered deep in a rainforest, a fuzzy photo of 
Uranus with its up-and-down rings, or a prismed picture taken through the 
faceted eye of a bee.
And though she would rather have died than admit itno respectable 
thirteen-year-old ever set foot down thereshe still loved the childrens 
library too. Nita had gone through every book in the place when she was younger, 
reading everything in sightfiction and nonfiction alike, fairy tales, science 
books, horse stories, dog stories, music books, art books, even the 
encyclopedias.
(Bookworm,) she heard the old jeering voices go in her head, (foureyes, 
smartass, hide-in-the-house-and-read. Walking encyclopedia. Think youre so 
hot.) No, she remembered herself answering once, I just like to find things 
out! And she sighed, feeling rueful. That time she had found out about being 
punched in the stomach.
She strolled between shelves, looking at titles, smiling as she met old friends, 
books she had read three times or five times or a dozen. Just a title, or an 
authors name, would be enough to summon up happy images. Strange creatures like 
phoenixes and psammeads, moving under smoky London daylight of a hundred years 
before, in company with groups of bemused children; starships and new worlds and 
the limitless vistas of interstellar night, outer space challenged but never 
conquered; princesses in silver and golden dresses, princes and heroes carrying 
swords like sharpened lines of light, monsters rising out of weedy tarns, wild 
creatures that talked and tricked one another . . . 
I used to think the world would be like that when I got older. Wonderful all the 
time, exciting, happy. Instead of the way it is
Something stopped Nitas hand as it ran along the bookshelf. She looked and 
found that one of the books, a little library-bound volume in shiny red buckram, 
had a loose thread at the top of its spine, on which her finger had caught. She 
pulled the finger free, glanced at the title. It was one of those So You Want 
to Be a . . .  books, a series on careers. So You Want to Be a Pilot there had 
been, and So You Want to Be a Scientist . . . a Nurse . . . a Writer . . . 
But this one said So You Want to Be a Wizard.
A what?
Nita pulled the book off the shelf, surprised not so much by the title as by the 
fact that shed never seen it before. She thought she knew the whole stock of 
the childrens library. Yet this wasnt a new book. It had plainly been there 
for some timethe pages had that yellow look about their edges, the color of 
aging, and the top of the book was dusty, so you want to be a wizard. hearnssen, 
the spine said: that was the authors name. Phoenix Press, the publisher. And 
then in white ink, in Mrs. Lessers tidy handwriting, 793. 4: the Dewey Decimal 
number.
This has to be a joke, Nita said to herself. But the book looked exactly like 
all the others in the series. She opened it carefully, so as not to crack the 
binding, and turned the first few pages to the table of contents. Normally Nita 
was a fast reader and would quickly have finished a page with only a few lines 
on it; but what she found on that contents page slowed her down a great deal. 
Preliminary Determinations: A Question of Aptitude. Wizardly Preoccupations 
and Predilections. Basic Equipment and Milieus. Introduction to Spells, 
Bindings and Geasa. Familiars and Helpmeets: Advice to the Initiate. 
Psychotropic Spelling.
Psychowhat? Nita turned to the page on which that chapter began, looking at the 
boldface paragraph beneath its title.
WARNING
Spells of power sufficient to make temporary changes in the human mind are 
always subject to sudden and unpredictable backlash on the user. The 
practitioner is cautioned to make sure that his/her motives are benevolent 
before attempting spelling aimed at . . . 
I dont believe this, Nita thought. She shut the book and stood there holding it 
in her hand, confused, amazed, suspiciousand delighted. If it was a joke, it 
was a great one. If it wasnt
No, dont be silly.
But if it isnt
People were clumping around upstairs, but Nita hardly heard them. She sat down 
at one of the low tables and started reading the book in earnest.
The first couple of pages were a foreword.
Wizardry is one of the most ancient and misunderstood of arts. Its public image 
for centuries has been one of a mysterious pursuit, practiced in occult 
surroundings, and usually used at the peril of ones soul. The modern wizard, 
who works with tools more advanced than bats blood and beings more complex than 
medieval demons, knows how far from the truth that image is. Wizardry, though 
exciting and interesting, is not a glamorous business, especially these days, 
when a wizard must work quietly so as not to attract undue attention.
For those willing to assume the Arts responsibilities and do the work, though, 
wizardry has many rewards. The sight of a formerly twisted growing thing now 
growing straight, of a snarled motivation untangled, the satisfaction of hearing 
what a plant is thinking or a dog is saying, of talking to a stone or a star, is 
thought by most to be well worth the labor.
Not everyone is suited to be a wizard. Those without enough of the necessary 
personality traits will never see this manual for what it is. That you have 
found it at all says a great deal for your potential.
The reader is invited to examine the next few chapters and determine his/her 
wizardly potential in detailto become familiar with the scope of the Artand 
finally to decide whether to become a wizard.
Good luck!
Its a joke, Nita thought. Really. And to her own amazement, she wouldnt 
believe herselfshe was too fascinated. She turned to the next chapter.
PRELIMINARY DETERMINATIONS
An aptitude for wizardry requires more than just the desire to practice the art. 
There are certain inborn tendencies, and some acquired ones, that enable a 
person to become a wizard. This chapter will list some of the better documented 
of wizardly characteristics. Please bear in mind that it isnt necessary to 
possess all the qualities listed, or even most of them. Some of the greatest 
wizards have been lacking in the qualities possessed by almost all others and 
have still achieved startling competence levels . . . 
Slowly at first, then more eagerly, Nita began working her way through the 
assessment chapter, pausing only to get a pencil and scrap paper from the 
checkout desk, so that she could make notes on her aptitude. She was brought up 
short by the footnote to one page
Where ratings are not assigned, as in rural areas, the area of greatest 
population density will usually produce the most wizards, due to the thinning of 
worldwalls with increased population concentration . . . 
Nita stopped reading, amazed. Thinning of worldwallswere they saying that 
there are other worlds, other dimensions, and that things could get through? 
Things, or people?
She sat there and wondered. All the old fairy tales about people falling down 
wells into magical countries, or slipping backward in time, or forward into 
itdid this mean that such things could actually happen? If you could actually 
go into other worlds, other places, and come back again . . . 
Awwwho would believe anybody who came back and told a story like that? Even if 
they took pictures?
But who cares! she answered herself fiercely. If only it could be true . . . 
She turned her attention back to the book and went on reading, though 
skepticallythe whole thing still felt like a game. But abruptly it stopped 
being a game, with one paragraph:
Wizards love words. Most of them read a great deal, and indeed one strong sign 
of a potential wizard is the inability to get to sleep without reading something 
first. But their love for and fluency with words is what makes wizards a force 
to be reckoned with. Their ability to convince a piece of the worlda tree, say, 
or a stonethat its not what it thinks it is, that its something else, is the 
very heart of wizardry. Words skillfully used, the persuasive voice, the 
persuading mind, are the wizards most basic tools. With them a wizard can stop 
a tidal wave, talk a tree out of growing or into itfreeze fire, burn raineven 
slow down the death of the Universe.
That last, of course, is the reason there are wizards. See the next chapter.
Nita stopped short. The universe was running down, all the energy in it was 
slowly being used up; she knew that from astronomy. Entropy, the process was 
called. But shed never heard anyone talk about slowing it down before.
She shook her head in amazement and went on to the correlation section at the 
end of that chapter, where all the factors involved in the makeup of a potential 
wizard were listed. Nita found that she had a lot of themenough to be a wizard, 
if she wanted to.
In rising excitement she turned to the next chapter. Theory and Implications of 
Wizardry, its heading said. History, Philosophy, and the Wizards Oath.
Fifty or sixty eons ago, when life brought itself about, it also brought about 
to accompany it many Powers and Potentialities to manage the business of 
creation. One of the greatest of these Powers held aloof for a long time, 
watching its companions work, not wishing to enter into Creation until it could 
contribute something unlike anything the other Powers had made, something 
completely new and original. Finally the Lone Power found what it was looking 
for. Others had invented planets, light, gravity, space. The Lone Power invented 
death, and bound it irrevocably into the worlds. Shortly thereafter the other 
Powers joined forces and cast the Lone One out.
Many versions of this story are related among the many worlds, assigning blame 
or praise to one party or another. However, none of the stories change the fact 
that entropy and its symptom, death, are here now. To attempt to halt or remove 
them is as futile as attempting to ignore them.
Therefore there are wizardsto handle them.
A wizards business is to conserve energyto keep it from being wasted. On the 
simplest level this includes such unmagical-looking actions as paying ones 
bills on time, turning off the lights when you go out, and supporting the people 
around you in getting their lives to work. It also includes a great deal more.
Because wizardly people tend to be good with language, they can also become 
skillful with the Speech, the magical tongue in which objects and living 
creatures can be described with more accuracy than in any human language. And 
what can be so accurately described can also be preservedfreed to become yet 
greater. A wizard can cause an inanimate object or animate creature to grow, or 
stop growingto be what it is, or something else. A wizard, using the Speech, 
can cause death to slow down, or go somewhere else and come back laterjust as 
the Lone Power caused it to come about in the first place. Creation, 
preservation, destruction, transformationall are a matter of causing the fabric 
of being to do what you want it to. And the Speech is the key.
Nita stopped to think this over for a moment. It sounds like, if you know what 
something is, truly know, you dont have any trouble working with it. Like my 
telescopeif it acts up, I know every piece of it, and it only takes a second to 
get it working again. To have that kind of control overover everythinglive 
things, the world, even . . . She took a deep breath and looked back at the 
book, beginning to get an idea of what kind of power was implied there.
The power conferred by use of the Speech has, of course, one insurmountable 
limitation: the existence of death itself. As one renowned Senior Wizard has 
remarked, Entropy has us outnumbered.  No matter how much preserving we do, 
the Universe will eventually die. But it will last longer because of our 
effortsand since no one knows for sure whether another Universe will be born 
from the ashes of this one, the effort seems worthwhile.
No one should take the Wizards Oath who is not committed to making wizardry a 
lifelong pursuit. The energy invested in a beginning wizard is too precious to 
be thrown away. Yet there are no penalties for withdrawal from the Art, except 
the knowledge that the Universe will die a little faster because of energy lost. 
On the other hand, there are no prizes for the service of Lifeexcept life 
itself. The wizard gets the delight of working in a specialized areamagicand 
gets a good look at the foundations of the Universe, the way things really work. 
It should be stated here that there are people who consider the latter more of a 
curse than a blessing. Such wizards usually lose their art. Magic does not live 
in the unwilling soul.
Should you decide to go ahead and take the Oath, be warned that an ordeal of 
sorts will follow, a test of aptitude. If you pass, wizardry will ensue . . . 
Yeah? Nita thought. And what if you dont pass?
Nita? Mrs. Lessers voice came floating down the stairs, and a moment later 
she herself appeared, a large brunette lady with kind eyes and a look of eternal 
concern. You still alive?
I was reading.
So what else is new? Theyre gone. 
Thanks, Mrs. L.
What was all that about, anyway?
Oh . . . Joanne was looking to pick a fight again.
Mrs. Lesser raised an eyebrow at Nita, and Nita smiled back at her 
shame-facedly. She didnt miss much.
Well, I might have helped her a little.
I guess its hard,  Mrs. Lesser said. I doubt I could be nice all the time, 
myself, if I had that lot on my back. That the only one you want today, or 
should I just have the nonfiction section boxed and sent over to your house?
No, this is enough,  Nita said. If my father sees too many books hell just 
make me bring them back.
Mrs. Lesser sighed. Reading one book is like eating one potato chip,  she 
said. So youll be back Monday. Theres more where that came from. Ill check 
it out for you.
Nita felt in her pockets hurriedly. Oh, crud. Mrs. L., I dont have my card. 
So youll bring it back Monday,  she said, handing her back the book as they 
reached the landing, and Ill stamp it then. I trust you.
Thanks,  Nita said.
Dont mention it. Be careful going home, Mrs. Lesser said, and have a nice 
read.
I will. Nita went out and stood on the doorstep, looking around in the deeping 
gloom. Dinnertime was getting close, and the wind was getting cold, with a smell 
of rain to it. The book in her hand seemed to prickle a little, as if it were 
impatient to be read.
She started jogging toward home, taking a circuitous routeup Washington from 
Rose Avenue, then through town along Nassau Road and down East Clinton, a path 
meant to confound pursuit. She didnt expect that they would be waiting for her 
only a block away from her house, where there were no alternate routes to take. 
And when they were through with her, the six of them, one of Nitas eyes was 
blackened and the knee Joanne had so carefully stomped on felt swollen with 
liquid fire. Nita just lay there for a long while, on the spot where they left 
her, behind the ODonnells hedge; the ODonnells were out of town. There she 
lay, and cried, as she would not in front of Joanne and the rest, as she would 
not until she was safely in bed and out of her familys earshot. Whether she 
provoked these situations or not, they kept happening, and there was nothing she 
could do about them. Joanne and her hangers-on had found out that Nita didnt 
like to fight, wouldnt try until her rage broke looseand then it was too late, 
she was too hurt to fight well, all her self-defense lessons went out of her 
head with the pain. And they knew it, and at least once a week found a way to 
sucker her into a fightor, if that failed, they would simply ambush her. All 
right, she had purposely baited Joanne today, but thered been a fight coming 
anyway, and she had chosen to start it rather than wait, getting angrier and 
angrier, while they baited her. But this would keep happening, again and again, 
and there was nothing she could do about it. Oh, I wish we could move. I wish 
Dad would say something to Joannes fatherno, that would just make it worse. If 
only something could just happen to make it stop!
Underneath her, where it had fallen, the book dug into Nitas sore ribs. The 
memory of what she had been reading flooded back through her pain and was 
followed by a wash of wild surmise. If there are spells to keep things from 
dying, then I bet there are spells to keep people from hurting you . . . 
Then Nita scowled at herself in contempt for actually believing for a moment 
what couldnt possibly be more than an elaborate joke. She put aside thoughts of 
the book and slowly got up, brushing herself off and discovering some new 
bruises. She also discovered something else. Her favorite pen was gone. Her 
space pen, a present from her Uncle Joel, the pen that could write on butter or 
glass or upside down, her pen with which she had never failed a test, even in 
math. She patted herself all over, checked the ground, searched in pockets where 
she knew the pen couldnt be. No use; it was gone. Or taken, ratherfor it had 
been securely clipped to her front jacket pocket when Joanne and her group 
jumped her. It must have fallen out, and one of them picked it up.
Aaaaaagh! Nita moaned, feeling bitter enough to start crying again. But she 
was all cried out, and she ached too much, and it was a waste. She stepped 
around the hedge and limped the little distance home.
Her house was pretty much like any other on the block, a white frame house with 
fake shutters; but where other houses had their lawns, Nitas had a beautifully 
landscaped garden. Ivy carpeted the ground, and the flowerbeds against the house 
had something blooming in every season except the dead of winter. Nita trudged 
up the driveway without bothering to smell any of the spring flowers, went up 
the stairs to the back door, pushed it open, and walked into the kitchen as 
nonchalantly as she could.
Her mother was elsewhere, but the delicious smells of her cooking filled the 
place; veal cutlets tonight. Nita peered into the oven, saw potatoes baking, 
lifted a pot lid and found corn-on-the-cob in the steamer.
Her father looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the dining-room table. 
He was a big, blunt, good-looking man, with startling silver hair and large 
capable handsan artists hands! he would chuckle as he pieced together a 
flower arrangement. He owned the smaller of the towns two flower shops, and he 
loved his work dearly. He had done all the landscaping around the house in his 
spare time, and around several neighbors houses too, refusing to take anything 
in return but the satisfaction of being up to his elbows in a flowerbed. 
Whatever he touched grew. I have an understanding with the plants, he would 
say, and it certainly seemed that way. It was people he sometimes had trouble 
understanding, and particularly his eldest daughter.
My Lord, Nita! her father exclaimed, putting the paper down flat on the table. 
His voice was shocked. What happened?
As if you dont know! Nita thought. She could clearly see the expressions going 
across her fathers face. My God, they said, shes done it again! Why doesnt 
she fight back? Whats wrong with her? He would get around to asking that 
question at one point or another, and Nita would try to explain it again, and as 
usual her father would try to understand and would fail. Nita turned away and 
opened the refrigerator door, peering at nothing in particular, so that her 
father wouldnt see the grimace of impatience and irritation on her face. She 
was tired of the whole ritual, but she had to put up with it. It was as 
inevitable as being beaten up.
I was in a fight, she said, the second verse of the ritual, the second line of 
the scene. Tiredly she closed the refrigerator door, put the book down on the 
counter beside the stove, and peeled off her jacket, examining it for rips and 
ground-in dirt and blood.
So how many of them did you take out? her father said, turning his eyes back 
to the newspaper. His face still showed exasperation and puzzlement, and Nita 
sighed. He looks about as tired of this as I am. But really, he knows the 
answers. Im not sure, Nita said. There were six of them.
Six! Nitas mother came around the corner from the living room and into the 
bright kitchendanced in, actually. Just watching her made Nita smile sometimes, 
and it did now, though changing expressions hurt. She had been a dancer before 
she married Dad, and the grace with which she moved made her every action around 
the house seem polished, endlessly rehearsed, lovely to look at. She glided with 
the laundry, floated while she cooked. Loading the odds a bit, werent they?
Yeah. Nita was hurting almost too much to feel like responding to the gentle 
humor. Her mother caught the pain in her voice and stopped to touch Nitas face 
as she passed, assessing the damage and conveying how she felt about it in one 
brief gesture, without saying anything that anyone else but the two of them 
might hear.
No sitting up for you tonight, kidlet, her mother said. Bed, and ice on that, 
before you swell up like a balloon.
What started it? her dad asked from the dining room.
Joanne Virella, Nita said. She has a new bike, and I didnt get as excited 
about it as she thought I should.
Nitas father looked up from the paper again, and this time there was discomfort 
in his face, and regret. Nita,  he said, I couldnt afford it this month, 
really. I thought I was going to be able to earlier, but I couldnt. I wish I 
could have. Next time for sure.
Nita nodded. Its okay, she said, even though it wasnt really. Shed wanted 
that bike, wanted it so badlybut Joannes father owned the big five-and-dime on 
Nassau Road and could afford three-hundred-dollar bikes for his children at the 
drop of a birthday. Nitas fathers business was a lot smaller and was prone to 
what he called (in front of most people) cash-flow problems or (in front of 
his family) being broke most of the time.
But what does Joanne care about cash flow, or any of the rest of it? I wanted 
that bike!
Here, dreamer, her mother said, tapping her on the shoulder and breaking her 
thought. She handed Nita an icepack and turned back toward the stove. Go lie 
down or youll swell worse. Ill bring you something in a while.
Shouldnt she stay sitting up? Nitas father said. Seems as if the fluid 
would drain better or something.
You didnt get beat up enough when you were younger, Harry, her mother said. 
If she doesnt lie down, shell blow up like a basketball. Scoot, Nita.
She scooted, around the corner into the dining room, around the second corner 
into the living room, and straight into her little sister, bumping loose one of 
the textbooks she was carrying and scattering half her armload of pink plastic 
curlers. Nitas father raised his eyebrows and turned his attention back to his 
paper as Nita bent to help pick things up again. Her sister, bent down beside 
her, didnt take long to figure out what had happened.
Virella again, huh? she said. Dairine was eleven years old, redheaded as her 
mother, gray-eyed as Nita, and precocious; she was taking tenth-grade English 
courses and breezing through them, and Nita was teaching her some algebra on the 
side. Dairine had her fathers square-boned build and her mothers grace, and a 
perpetual, cocky grin. She was a great sister, as far as Nita was concerned, 
even if she was a little too smart for her own good.
Yeah, Nita said.Look out, kid, Ive gotta go lie down.
Dont call me kid. You want me to beat up Virella for you?
Be my guest, Nita said. She went on through the house, back to her room. 
Bumping the door open, she fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. The 
familiar maps and pictures looked down at herthe National Geographic map of the 
Moon and some enlarged Voyager photos of Jupiter and Saturn and their moons.
Nita eased herself down onto the bottom bunk bed, groaning softlythe deep 
bruises were beginning to bother her now. Lord, she thought, what did I say? If 
Dari does beat Joanne up, Ill never hear the end of it. Dairine had once been 
small and fragile and subject to being beaten upmostly because she had never 
learned to curb her mouth eitherand Nitas parents had sent her to jujitsu 
lessons at the same time they sent Nita. On Dari, though, the lessons took. One 
or two overconfident kids had gone after her, about a month and a half into her 
lessons, and had been thoroughly and painfully surprised. She was protective 
enough to take Joanne on and, horrors, throw her clear over the horizon. It 
would be all over school; Nita Callahans little sister beat up the girl who 
beat Nita up.
Oh, no! Nita thought.
Her door opened slightly, and Dari stuck her head in. Of course, she said, if 
youd rather do it yourself, Ill let her off this time.
Yeah,  Nita said, thanks.
Dairine made a face. Here, she said, and pitched Nitas jacket in at her, and 
then right after it the book. Nita managed to field it while holding the icepack 
in place with her left hand. You left it in the kitchen, Dairine said. Gonna 
be a magician, huh? Make yourself vanish when they chase you?
Sure. Go curl your hair, runt.
Nita sat back against the headboard of the bed, staring at the book. Why not? 
Who knows what kinds of spells you could do? Maybe I could turn Joanne into a 
turkey. As if she isnt one already. Or maybe theres a spell for getting lost 
pens back.
Though the book made it sound awfully serious, as if the wizardry were for big 
things. Maybe its not right to do spells for little stuff like thisand anyway, 
you cant do the spells until youve taken the Oath, and once youve taken it, 
thats supposed to be forever.
Oh, come on, its a joke! What harm can there be in saying the words if its a 
joke? And if its not, then . . . 
Then Ill be a wizard.
Her father knocked on her door, then walked in with a plate loaded with dinner 
and a glass of cola. Nita grinned up at him, not too widely, for it hurt. 
Thanks, Dad.
Here, he said after Nita took the plate and the glass, and handed her a couple 
of aspirin. Your mother says to take these.
Thanks. Nita took them with the Coke, while her father sat down on the edge of 
the bed.
Nita,  he said, is there something going on that I should know about?
Huh?
Its been once a week now, sometimes twice, for quite a while. Do you want me 
to speak to Joe Virella and ask him to have a word with Joanne?
Uh, no, sir.
Nitas father stared at his hands for a moment. What should we do, then? I 
really cant afford to start you in karate lessons again
Jujitsu.
Whatever. Nita, what is it? Why does this keep happening? Why dont you hit 
them back?
I used to! Do you think it made a difference? Joanne would just get more kids 
to help. Her father stared at her, and Nita flushed hot at the stern look on 
his face. Im sorry, Daddy, I didnt mean to yell at you. But fighting back 
just gets them madder, it doesnt help.
It might help keep you from getting mangled every week, if youd just keep 
trying! her father said angrily. I hate to admit it, but Id love to see you 
wipe the ground up with that loudmouth rich kid.
So would I, Nita thought. Thats the problem. She swallowed, feeling guilty over 
how much she wanted to get back at Joanne somehow. Dad, Joanne and her bunch 
just dont like me. I dont do the things they do, or play the games they play, 
or like the things they likeand I dont want to. So they dont like me. Thats 
all.
Her father looked at her and shook his head sadly. I just dont want to see you 
hurt. Kidling, I dont know . . . if you could just be a little more like them, 
if you could try to . . .  He trailed off, running one hand through his silver 
hair. What am I saying? he muttered. Look. If theres anything I can do to 
help, will you tell me?
Yessir.
Okay. If you feel better tomorrow, would you rake up the backyard a little? I 
want to go over the lawn around the rowan tree with the aerator, maybe put down 
some seed.
Sure. Ill be okay, Dad. They didnt break anything.
My girl. He got up. Dont read so much it hurts your eyes, now.
I wont, Nita said. Her father strode out the door, forgetting to close it 
behind himself as usual.
She ate her supper slowly, for it hurt to chew, and she tried to think about 
something besides Joanne or that book.
The Moon was at first quarter tonight; it would be a good night to take the 
telescope out and have a look at the shadows in the craters, Or there was that 
fuzzy little comet, maybe it had more tail than it did last week.
It was completely useless. The book lay there on her bed and stared at her, 
daring her to do something childlike, something silly, something absolutely 
ridiculous.
Nita put aside her empty plate, picked up the book, and stared back at it.
All right, she said under her breath. All right.
She opened the book at random. And on the page to which she opened, there was 
the Oath.
It was not decorated in any way. It stood there, a plain block of type all by 
itself in the middle of the page, looking serious and important. Nita read the 
Oath to herself first, to make sure of the words. Then, quickly, before she 
could start to feel silly, she read it out loud.
 In Lifes name, and for Lifes sake,  she read,  I say that I will use 
the Art for nothing but the service of that Life. I will guard growth and ease 
pain. I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way; and I 
will change no object or creature unless its growth and life, or that of the 
system of which it is part, are threatened. To these ends, in the practice of my 
Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to 
do sotill Universes end. 
The words seemed to echo slightly, as if the room were larger than it really 
was. Nita sat very still, wondering what the ordeal would be like, wondering 
what would happen now. Only the wind spoke softly in the leaves of the trees 
outside the bedroom window; nothing else seemed to stir anywhere. Nita sat 
there, and slowly the tension began to drain out of her as she realized that she 
hadnt been hit by lightning, nor had anything strange at all happened to her. 
Now she felt sillyand tired too, she discovered. The effects of her beating 
were catching up with her. Wearily Nita shoved the book under hen pillow, then 
lay back against the headboard and closed her hurting eyes. So much for the 
joke. She would have a nap, and then later shed get up and, take the telescope 
out back. But right now . . . right now . . . 
After a while, night was not night any more; that was what brought Nita to the 
window, much later. She leaned on the sill and gazed out in calm wonder at her 
backyard, which didnt look quite the same as usual. A blaze of undying morning 
lay over everything, bushes and trees cast light instead of shadow, and she 
could see the wind. Standing in the ivy under her window, she turned her eyes up 
to the silver-glowing sky to get used to the brilliance. How about that, she 
said. The backyards here too. Next to her, the lesser brilliance that gazed up 
at that same sky shrugged slightly. Of course, it said. This is Timeheart, after 
all. Yes, Nita said anxiously as they passed across the yard and out into the 
bright shadow of the steel and crystal towers, but did I do right? Her companion 
shrugged again. Go find out, it said, and glanced up again. Nita wasnt sure she 
wanted to follow the glance. Once she had looked up and seenI dreamed you were 
gone, she said suddenly. The magic stayed, but you went away. She hurt inside, 
enough to cry, but her companion flickered with laughter. No one ever goes away 
forever, it said. Especially not here. Nita looked up, then, into the bright 
morning and the brighter shadows. The day went on and on and would not end, the 
sky blazed now like molten silver . . . 
The Sun on her face woke Nita up as usual. Someone, her mother probably, had 
come in late last night to cover her up and take the dishes away. She turned 
over slowly, stiff but not in too much pain, and felt the hardness under her 
pillow. Nita sat up and pulled the book out, felt around for her glasses. The 
book fell open in her hand at the listing for the wizards in the New York 
metropolitan area, which Nita had glanced at the afternoon before. Now she 
looked down the first column of names, and her breath caught.
CALLAHAN, Juanita L., 243 E. Clinton Ave., Hempstead NY 11575
(516)5556786. (novice, pre-rating)
Her mouth fell open. She shut it. Im going to be a wizard! she thought. Nita 
got up and got dressed in a hurry.











2. Preliminary Exercises
She did her chores that morning and got out of the house with the book as fast 
as she could, heading for one of her secret places in the woods. If weird things 
start happening, she thought, no one will see them there. Oh, Im going to get 
that pen back! And then . . . 
Behind the high school around the corner from Nitas house was a large tract of 
undeveloped woodland, the usual Long Island combination of scrub oak, white 
pine, and sassafras. Nita detoured around the school, pausing to scramble over a 
couple of chain-link fences. There was a path on the other side; after a few 
minutes she turned off it to pick her way carefully through low underbrush and 
among fallen logs and tree stumps. Then there was a solid wall of clumped 
sassafras and twining wild blackberry bushes. It looked totally impassable, and 
the blackberries threatened Nita with their thorns, but she turned sideways and 
pushed through the wall of greenery undaunted.
She emerged into a glade walled all around with blackberry and gooseberry and 
pine, sheltered by the overhanging branches of several trees. One, a large 
crabapple, stood near the edge of the glade, and there was a flattish 
half-buried boulder at the base of its trunk. Here she could be sure no one was 
watching.
Nita sat down on the rock with a sigh, put her back up against the tree, and 
spent a few moments getting comfortablethen opened the book and started to 
read.
She found herself not just reading, after a while, but studyingcramming the 
facts into her head with that particular mental stomp she used when she knew she 
was going to have to know something by heart. The things the book was telling 
her now were not vague and abstract, as the initial discussion of theory had 
been, but straightforward as the repair manual for a new car, and nearly as 
complex. There were tables and lists of needed resources for working spells. 
There were formulas and equations and rules. There was a syllabary and 
pronunciation guide for the 418 symbols used in the wizardry Speech to describe 
relationships and effects that other human languages had no specific words for.
The information went on and onthe book was printed small, and there seemed no 
end to the things Nita was going to have to know about. She read about the 
hierarchy of practicing wizardsher book listed only those practicing in the 
U.S. and Canada, though wizards were working everywhere in the worldand she 
scanned down the listing for the New York area, noticing the presence of 
Advisory wizards, Area Supervisors, Senior wizards. She read through a list of 
the otherworlds closest to her own, alternate earths where the capital of the 
United States was named Huictilopochtli or Lafayette City or Hrafnkell or New 
Washington, and where the people still called themselves Americans, though they 
didnt match Nitas ideas about the term.
She learned the Horsemans Word, which gets the attention of any member of the 
genus Equus, even the zebras; and the two forms of the Masons Word, which give 
stone the appearance of life for short periods. One chapter told her about the 
magical creatures living in cities, whose presence even the nonwizardly people 
suspect sometimescreatures like the steambreathing fireworms, packratty little 
lizards that creep through cracks in building walls to steal treasures and trash 
for their lair-hoards under the streets. Nita thought about all the steam she 
had seen coming up from manhole covers in Manhattan and smiled, for now she knew 
what was causing it.
She read on, finding out how to bridle the Nightmare and learning what questions 
to ask the Transcendent Pig, should she meet him. She read about the Trees 
Battlewho fought in it, and who won it, and why. She read about the forty basic 
classes of spells and their subclasses. She read about Timeheart, the unreal and 
eternal realm where the places and things people remember affectionately are 
preserved as they remember them, forever.
In the middle of the description of things preserved in their fullest beauty 
forever, and still growing, Nita found herself feeling a faint tingle of unease. 
She was also getting tired. She dropped the book in her lap with an annoyed 
sigh, for there was just too much to absorb at one sitting, and she had no clear 
idea of where to begin. Crud, she said under her breath. I thought Id be 
able to make Joanne vanish by tomorrow morning . . . 
Nita picked the manual up again and leafed through it to the section labeled 
Preliminary Exercises.
The first one was set in a small block of type in the middle of an otherwise 
page.
To change something, you must first describe it. To describe something, you must 
first see it. Hold still in one place for as long as it takes to see something.
Nita felt puzzled and slightly annoyed. This didnt sound much like magic. But 
obediently she put the book down, settled herself more comfortably against the 
tree, folded her arms, and sighed. Its almost too warm to think about anything 
serious . . . What should I look at? That rock over there? Naah, its kind of a 
dull-looking rock. That weed . . . look how its leaves go up around the stem in 
a spiral . . . Nita leaned her head back, stared up through the crabtrees 
branches. That rotten Joanne. Where would she have hidden that pen? I wonder. 
Maybe if I could sneak into her house somehow, maybe theres a spell for that . 
. . Have to do it after dark, I guess. Maybe I could do it tonight . . . wish it 
didnt take so long to get dark this time of year. Nita looked at the sky where 
it showed between the leaves, a hot blue mosaic of light with here and there the 
fireflicker of sun showing through, shifting with the shift of leaves in the 
wind. There are kinds of patternsthe wind never goes through the same way 
twice, and there are patterns in the branches but theyre never quite the same 
either. And look at the changes in the brightness. The sky is the same but the 
leaves cover sometimes more and sometimes less . . . the patterns . . . the 
patterns, they . . . they . . . 
(They wont let you have a moments rest,) the crabapple tree said irritably. 
Nita jumped, scraping her back against the trunk as she sat up straight. She had 
heard the tree quite plainly in some way that had nothing to do with spoken 
words. It was light patterns she had heard, and wind movements, leaf rustle, 
fire flicker.
(Finally paid attention, did you?) said the tree. (As if one of them isnt 
enough, messing up someones fallen-leaf pattern thats been in progress for 
fifteen years, drawing circles all over the ground and messing up the matrices. 
Well? Whats your excuse?)
Nita sat there with her mouth open, looking up at the words the tree was making 
with cranky light and shadow. It works. It works! Uh, she said, not knowing 
whether the tree could understand her, I didnt draw any circles on your 
leaves
(No, but that other one did,) the tree said. (Made circles and stars and 
diagrams all over Telerilarchs collage, doing some kind of power spell. You 
people dont have the proper respect for artwork. Okay, so were amateurs,) it 
added, a touch of belligerence creeping into its voice. (So none of us have been 
here more than thirty years. Well, our work is still valid, and)
Uh, listen, do you mean that theres a, uh, a wizard out here somewhere doing 
magic?
(What else?) the tree snapped. (And let me tell you, if you people dont)
Where? Where is she?
(He,) the tree said. (In the middle of all those made-stone roads. I remember 
when those roads went in, and they took a pattern Kimber had been working on for 
eighty years and scraped it bare and poured that black rock over it. One of the 
most complex, most)
He? Nita thought, and her heart sank slightly. She had trouble talking to boys. 
You mean across the freeway, in the middle of the interchange? That green 
place?
(Didnt you hear me? Are you deaf? Silly question. That other one must be not to 
have heard Teleri yelling at him. And now I suppose youll start scratching up 
the ground and invoking powers and ruining my collage. Well, let me tell you)
I, uhlisten, Ill talk to you later, Nita said hurriedly. She got to her 
feet, brushed herself off, and started away through the woods at a trot. Another 
wizard? And my God, the treesTheir laughter at her amazement was all around her 
as she ran, the merriment of everything from foot-high weeds to hundred-foot 
oaks, rustling in the windgrave chuckling of maples and alders, titters from 
groves of sapling sassafras, silly giggling in the raspberry bushes, a huge 
belly-laugh from the oldest hollow ash tree before the freeway interchange. How 
could I never have heard them before?
Nita stopped at the freeways edge and made sure that there were no cars coming 
before she tried to cross. The interchange was one of those cloverleaf affairs, 
and the circle formed by one of the offramps held a stand of the original 
pre-freeway trees within it, in a kind of sunken bowl. Nita dashed across the 
concrete and stood a moment, breathless, at the edge of the downslope, before 
starting down it slantwise.
This was another of her secret places, a spot shaded and peaceful in summer and 
winter both because of the pine trees that roofed the hollow in. But there was 
nothing peaceful about it today. Something was in the air, and the trees, 
irritated, were muttering among themselves. Even on a foot-thick cushion of pine 
needles, Nitas feet seemed to be making too much noise. She tried to walk 
softly and wished the trees wouldnt stare at her so.
Where the slope bottomed out she stopped, looking around her nervously, and that 
was when she saw him. The boy was holding a stick in one hand and staring 
intently at the ground underneath a huge shag-larch on one side of the grove. He 
was shorter than she was, and looked younger, and he also looked familiar 
somehow. Now who is that? she thought, feeling more nervous still. No one had 
ever been in one of her secret places when she came there.
But the boy just kept frowning at the ground, as if it were a test paper and he 
was trying to scowl the right answer out of it. A very ordinary-looking kid, 
with straight black hair and a Hispanic look to his face, wearing a beat-up 
green windbreaker and jeans and sneakers, holding a willow wand of a type that 
Nitas book recommended for certain types of spelling.
He let out what looked like a breath of irritation and put his hands on his 
hips. Cojones, he muttered, shaking his headand halfway through the shake, he 
caught sight of Nita.
He looked surprised and embarrassed for a moment, then his face steadied down to 
a simple worried look. There he stood regarding Nita, and she realized with a 
shock that he wasnt going to yell at her, or chase her, or call her names, or 
run away himself. He was going to let her explain herself. Nita was amazed. It 
didnt seem quite normal.
Hi, she said.
The boy looked at her uncertainly, as if trying to place her. Hi.
Nita wasnt sure quite where to begin. But the marks on the ground, and the 
willow wand, seemed to confirm that a power spell was in progress. Uh, she 
said, I, uh, I dont see the oak leaves. Or the string.
The boys dark eyes widened. So thats how you got through!
Through what?
I put a binding spell around the edges of this place, he said. Ive tried 
this spell once or twice before, but people kept showing up just as I was 
getting busy, and I couldnt finish.
Nita suddenly recognized him. Youre the one they were calling crazy last 
week.
The boys eyes narrowed again. He looked annoyed. Uh, yeah. A couple of the 
eighth graders found me last Monday. They were shooting up the woods with BB 
guns, and there I was working. And they couldnt figure out what I was doing, so 
at lunch the next day they said
I know what they said. It had been a badly rhymed song about the kid who 
played with himself in the woods, because no one else would play with him. She 
remembered feeling vaguely sorry for the kid, whoever he was; boys could be as 
bad as girls sometimes.
I thought I blew the binding too, he said. You surprised me.
Maybe you cant bind another wizard out, Nita said. That was it, she thought. 
If hes not one
Uhh . . . I guess not. He paused. Im Kit, he said then. Christopher, 
really, but I hate Christopher.
Nita, she said. Its short for Juanita. I hate that too. Listenthe trees are 
mad at you.
Kit stared at her. The trees?
Uh, mostly this one. She looked up into the branches of the shag-larch, which 
were trembling with more force than the wind could lend them. See, the trees 
doI dont know, its artwork, sort of, with their fallen leavesand you started 
doing your power schematic all over their work, and, uh
Trees? Kit said, Rocks I knew about, I talked to a rock last weekor it 
talked to me, actuallythough it wasnt talking, really . . .  He looked up at 
the tree. Well, hey, Im sorry, he said. I didnt know. Ill try to put 
things back the way I found them. But I might as well not have bothered with the 
spell, he said, looking again at Nita. It got caught, its not working. You 
know anything about this?
He gestured at the diagram he had drawn on the cleared ground, and Nita went to 
crouch down by it. The pattern was one she had seen in her book, a basic design 
of interlocking circles and woven parallelograms. There were symbols drawn 
inside the angles and outside the curves, some of them letters or words in the 
Roman alphabet, some of them the graceful characters of the wizardly Speech. I 
just got my book yesterday, she said. I doubt Ill be much help. What were you 
trying to get? The power part of it I can see.
She glanced up and found Kit looking with somber interest at her black eye. Im 
getting tired of being beat up just because I have a Spanish accent, he said. 
I was going to attract enough power to me so that the big kids would just leave 
me alone and not start anything. An aura, the book called it. But the spell 
got stuck a couple of steps in, and when I checked the book it said that I was 
missing an clement. He looked questioningly at Nita. Maybe youre it?
Uhh She shook her head. I dont know. I was looking for a spell for 
something different. Someone beat me up and stole my best pen. It was a space 
pen, the kind the astronauts have, and it writes on anything, and I always took 
all my tests with it and I always pass when I use it, and I want it back. She 
stopped, then added, And I guess I wouldnt mind if they didnt beat me up any 
more either.
We could make a finding spell and tie it into this one, Kit said.
Yeah? Well, we better put these needles back first.
Yeah.
Kit stuck the willow wand in his back pocket as he and Nita worked to push the 
larchs needles back over the cleared ground. Whered you get your book? Nita 
said.
In the city, about a month ago. My mother and father went out antique hunting, 
theres this one part of Second Avenue where all the little shops are and one 
place had this box of secondhand books, and I stopped to look at them because I 
always look at old booksand this one caught my eye. My hand, actually. I was 
going after a Tom Swift book underneath it and it pinched me . . . 
Nita chuckled. Mine snagged me in the library, she said. I dont know . . . I 
didnt want Joanneshes the one who beat me upI didnt want her to get my pen, 
but Im glad she didnt get this. She pulled her copy of the book out of her 
jacket as Kit straightened up beside her. She looked over at him. Does it 
work? she demanded. Does it really work?
Kit stood there for a moment, looking at the replaced needles. I fixed my dogs 
nose, he said. A wasp stung him and I made it go down right away. And I talked 
to the rock. He looked up at Nita again. Cmon, he said. Theres a place in 
the middle where the ground is bare. Lets see what happens.
Together they walked to the center of the hollow, where the pine trees made a 
circle open to the sky and the ground was bare dirt. Kit pulled out his willow 
wand and began drawing the diagram again. This one I know by heart, he said. 
Ive started it so many times. Well, this time for sure. He got his book out 
of his back pocket and consulted it, beginning to write symbols into the 
diagram. Would you look and see if theres anything else we need for a finding 
spell?
Sure. Nita found the necessary section in the index of her book and checked 
it. Just an image of the thing to be found, she said. I have to make it while 
youre spelling. Kit, do you know why this works? Leaves, pieces of string, 
designs on the ground. It doesnt make sense.
Kit kept drawing. Theres a chapter on advanced theory in there, but I couldnt 
get through it all the way. The magic is supposed to have something to do with 
interrupting space
Huh?
Listen, thats all I could get out of it. There was this one phrase that kept 
turning up, temporospatial claudication. I think thats how you say it. Its 
something like, space isnt really empty, it folds around thingsor wordsand if 
you put the right things in the right place and do the right things with them, 
and say the right things in the Speech, magic happens. Wheres the string?
This one with all the knots in it? Nita reached down and picked it up.
Must have fallen out of my pocket. Stand on this end, okay? He dropped one end 
of the string into the middle of the diagram, and Nita stepped onto it. Kit 
walked around her and the diagram with it, using the end of the string to trace 
a circle. Just before he came to the place where he had started, he used the 
willow wand to make a sort of figure-eight marka wizards knot, the book had 
called itand closed the circle with it. Kit tugged at the string as he stood 
up, Nita let it go, and Kit coiled it and put it away.
Youve got to do this part yourself, Kit said. I cant write your name for 
youeach person in a spelling does their own. Theres a table in there with all 
the symbols in it
Nita scuffed some pages aside and found it, a long list of English letters and 
numbers, and symbols in the Speech. She got down to look at Kits name, so that 
she could see how to write hers, and group by group began to puzzle the symbols 
out. Your birthdays August twenty-fifth?
Uh huh.
Nita looked at the symbol for the year. They skipped you a couple grades, huh?
Yeah. Its rotten, Kit said, sounding entirely too cheerful as he said it. 
Nita knew that tone of voiceit was the one in which she usually answered Joanne 
back, while trying to hide her own fear of what was sure to happen next. It 
wouldnt be so bad if they were my age, Kit went on, looking over Nitas 
shoulder and speaking absently. But they keep saying things like If youre so 
smart, how come you talk so funny?  His imitation of their imitation of his 
accent was precise and bitter. They make me sick. Trouble is, they outweigh 
me.
Nita nodded and started to draw her name on the ground, using the substitutions 
and symbols that appeared in her manual. Some of them were simple and brief; 
some of them were almost more complex than she believed possible, crazy amalgams 
of curls and twists and angles like those an insane stenographer might produce. 
She did her best to reproduce them, and tied all the symbols together, fastening 
them into a circle with the same wizards knot that Kit had used on the outer 
circle and on his own name.
Done? Kit said. He was standing up again, tracing the outer circle around one 
more time.
Yup.
Okay. He finished the tracing with another repetition of the wizards knot and 
straightened up; then he put his hand out as if to feel something in the air. 
Good, he said. Here, come check this.
Check what? Nita said; but she got up and went over to Kit. She put out her 
hand as he had, and found that something was resisting the movement of her hand 
through the airsomething that gave slightly under increased pressure, like a 
mattress being pushed down and then springing back again. Nita felt momentarily 
nervous. Can air get through this?
I think so. I didnt have any trouble the last couple of times I did it. Its 
only supposed to seal out unfriendly influences.
Nita stood there with her hand resting against nothing, and the nothing 
supported her weight. The last of her doubts about the existence of magic went 
away. She might have imagined the contents of the book, or been purposely 
misreading. She might have dozed off and dreamed the talking tree. But this was 
daylight, the waking world, and she was leaning one-handed on empty air!
Those guys who came across you when you had this up, she said, what did they 
think?
Um, it worked on them too. They didnt even understand why they couldnt get at 
methey thought it was their idea to yell at me from a distance. They thought 
they were missing me with the BB guns on purpose too, to scare me. Its true, 
what the book said. There is people who couldnt see a magic if it bit them. He 
glanced around the finished circle. There are other spells like this that dont 
need drawings after you do them the first time, and when you need them, theyre 
there really fastlike if someones about to try beating you up. People just 
kind of skid away from you . . . 
I bet, Nita said, with relish. Thoughts of what else she might be able to do 
to Joanne flickered through her head, but she pushed them aside for the moment. 
What next?
Next, Kit said, going to the middle of the circle and sitting down carefully 
so as not to smudge any of the marks hed made, we read it. Or I read most of 
it, and you read your name. Though first you have to check my figuring.
How come? Nita joined him, avoiding the lines and angles.
Two person spellboth people always check each others work. But your name, you 
check again after I do.
Kit was already squinting at her squiggles, so Nita pulled out her book again 
and began looking at the symbols Kit had drawn in the dirt. There were clearly 
two sides to the diagram, and the book said they both had to balance like a 
chemical equation. Most of the symbols had numerical values attached, for ease 
in balancing, and Nita started doing addition in her head, making sure both 
sides matched. Eventually she was satisfied. She looked again at her name, 
seeing nothing wrong. Is it okay?
Yeah. Kit leaned back a little. You have to be careful with names, it says. 
Theyre a way of saying what you areand if you write something in a spell 
thats not what you are, well . . . 
You mean . . . you change . . . because the spell says youre something else 
than what you are? You become that?
Kit shrugged, but he looked uneasy. A spell is saying that you want something 
to happen, he said. If you say your name wrong
Nita shuddered. And now?
Now we start. You do your name when I come to it. Then, the goal part down 
theresince its a joint goal, we say it together. Think you can do it okay if I 
go slow?
Yeah.
Kit took a deep breath with his eyes closed, then opened his eyes and began to 
read.
Nita had never heard a voice speaking a spell aloud before, and the effect was 
strange. Ever so slightly, ever so slowly, things began to change around her. 
The tree-sheltered quiet grew quieter. The cool light that filtered through the 
canopy of branches grew expectant, fringed with secrecy the way things seen 
through the edge of a lens are fringed with rainbows. Nita began to feel as if 
she was caught in the moment between a very vivid dream and the awakening from 
it. There was that feeling of living in a bodyof being aware of familiar 
surroundings and the realities of the daylight world waiting to be resumedyet 
at the same time seeing those surroundings differently, colored with another 
sort of light, another kind of time. On one level Nita heard Kit reciting a 
string of polysyllables that should have been meaningless to herwords for 
symbols, pieces of words, babble. Yet she could also hear Kit talking, saying 
casually, and, it seemed, in English, We need to know something, and we suggest 
this particular method of finding the information . . .  And the words didnt 
break the expectancy, the listening silence. For once, for the first time, the 
dream was real while Nita was awake. Power stirred in the air around her and 
waited for her to shape it.
Magic.
She sat and listened to Kit. With each passing second she could catch more 
clearly the clean metallic taste of the equation as it began to form itself, 
flickering chill and bright in her mind. Kits speech was giving it life, and 
with quiet, flowing efficiency it was going about its purpose. It was invoking 
the attention of what Nita might have called physical laws, except that there 
was nothing physical about themthey had to do with flows of a kind of power as 
different from ordinary energy as energy was from matter. The equation stretched 
and coiled and caught those powers within itself as the words wove it. Nita and 
Kit were caught in it too. To Nita it seemed as if, without moving, she held out 
her hands, and they were takenby Kit, and by the spell itself, and by the 
ponderous powers caught across from her in the dance. There was a pause: Kit 
looked across the diagrams at her.
Nita scowled at the symbols beside her and began to read them, slowly and with 
some hesitationnaming herself one concept or one symbol at a time, binding 
herself into the spell. At first she was scared, for she could feel the 
strangeness folding in close around her. But then she realized that nothing 
awful was happening, and as her name became part of the spell, that was what was 
sliding down around her, protecting her. She finished, and she was out of 
breath, and excited, and she had never been happier in her life.
Kits voice came in again then, picking up the weave, rejoining the dance. So it 
went for a while, the strange words and the half-seen, half-felt movements and 
images falling into a rhythm of light and sound and texture, a song, a poem, a 
spell. It began to come whole all around them, and all around the tingling air 
stayed still to better hold the words, and the trees bent close to listen.
Kit came to the set of symbols that stood for his name and who he was, starting 
to read them slowly and carefully, Nita felt the spell settle down around her 
too. He finished it and glanced up at Nita, and together they began the goal 
section of the spell. Nita did her best to make a clear image of the pen as she 
spokethe silver case, gone a little scratched and grubby now, her initials 
incised up on the top. She hardly had time to wonder at the harmony their paired 
voices made before things began to change again. The shadows of the trees around 
them seemed to grow darker; the aura of expectancy grew sharp enough to taste. 
The silence became total, and their voices fell into it as into a great depth.
The formula for their goal, though longer than either of their names had been, 
seemed to take less time to sayand even stranger, it began to sound like much 
more than just finding a pen and being left alone. It began to taste of starfire 
and night and motion, huge and controlled, utterly strange. Saying the formula 
left Kit and Nita breathless and drained, as if something powerful had briefly 
been living and speaking through them and had worn them down. They finished the 
formula together, and gulped for air, and looked at each other in 
half-frightened expectation, wondering what would happen next.
The completed spell took effect. Nita had thought that she would gradually begin 
to see something, the way things had changed gradually in the grove. The spell, 
though, had its own ideas. Quick as a gasp it slammed them both out of one 
moment and into another, a shocking, wrenching transition like dreaming that 
youve fallen out of bed, wham! Instinctively they both hung on to the spell as 
if onto a railing, clutching it until their surroundings steadied down. The 
darkness had been replaced by a lowering, sullen-feeling gloom. They looked down 
as if from a high balcony onto a shadowed island prisoned between chill rivers 
and studded with sharp spikes of iron and cold stone.
(Manhattan?) Kit asked anxiously, without words. Nita felt frozen in place like 
a statue and couldnt turn to answer himthe spell was holding her immobile.
(It looks like Manhattan,) she said, feeling just as uneasy. (But whats my pen 
doing there?)
Kit would have shaken his head if he could have. (I dont get it. Whats wrong 
here? This is New York Citybut it never looked this awful, this dirty and nasty 
and . . . ) He trailed off in confusion and dismay.
Nita looked around her. It was hard to make out anything on the islandthere was 
a murky pall over the city that seemed more than just fog. There was hardly any 
traffic that she could see, and almost no lightin fact, in all of Manhattan 
there were only two light sources. In one place on the islandthe East Fifties, 
it looked likea small point of brittle light seemed to pulse right through 
steel and stone, throbbing dully like a sown seed of wildfire waiting to 
explode. The pulses were irregular and distressing, and the light was painful to 
look at. Some blocks to the south, well into the financial district near the 
south end of the island, another fire burned, a clear white spark like a 
sunseed, beating regularly as a heart. It was consoling, but it was very small.
(Now what?) Nita said. (Why would my pen be in this place?) She looked down at 
the dark grainy air below them, listened to the brooding silence like that of a 
beast of prey ready to spring, felt the sullen buildings hunching themselves 
against the oppressive skyand then felt the something malevolent and alive that 
lay in wait belowa something that saw them, was conscious of them, and was 
darkly pleased.
(Kit, whats that?)
(It knows!) Kits thought sang with alarm like a plucked string. (It knows were 
here! It shouldnt be able to, butNita, the spells not balanced for this. If 
that thing grabs us or holds us somehow, we wont be able to get back!)
Nita felt Kits mind start to flick frantically through the memories of what he 
had read in his wizards manual, looking for an idea, for something they could 
do to protect themselves.
She held very still and looked over his shoulder at his thoughts, even though 
part of her trembled at the thought of that dark presence which was even now 
reaching out toward them, lazy, curious, deadly. Abruptly she saw something that 
looked useful.
(Kit, stop! No, go back one. Thats it. Look, it says if youve got an 
imbalance, you can open out your side of the spell to attract some more power.)
(Yeah, but if the wrong kind of power answers, were in for it!)
(Were in for it for sure if that gets us,) Nita said, indicating the huge, 
hungry darkness billowing upward toward them like a cloud. (Look, well make a 
hole through the spell big enough for something friendly to fall into, and well 
take potluck.)
Nita could feel Kits uncertainty as he started choosing from memory the words 
and symbols he would need. (All right, but I dunno. If something worse happens . 
. . )
(What could be worse?) Nita hollered at Kit, half in amusement, half in fear. 
The hungry something drew closer.
Kit started to answer, then forgot about it. (There,) he said, laying the 
equation out in his mind, (I think thats all we need.)
(Go ahead,) Nita said, watching anxiously as their pursuer got closer and the 
air around them seemed to grow thicker and darker yet. (You say it. Just tell me 
what to do and when.)
(Right,) Kit said, and began speaking in his mind, much faster than he had 
during the initial spelling. If that first magic had felt like the weaving of a 
whole, this one felt like ripping something apart. Their surroundings seemed to 
shimmer uncertainly, the dark skyline and lead-gray sky rippled like a 
wind-stirred curtain; even that stalking presence seemed to hesitate in 
momentary confusion. (Push,) Kit said suddenly, (push right there.) Nita felt 
the torn place that Kit had made in the spell, and she shoved clumsily at it 
with her mind, trying to make the hole larger.
(Its . . . giving . . . )
(Now, hard!) Kit said, and Nita pushed until pain stabbed and stabbed again 
behind where her eyes should have been, and at the moment she thought she 
couldnt possibly push any more, Kit said one short sharp syllable and threw the 
spell wide open like a door.
It was like standing at the core of a tornado which, rather than spinning you 
away to Oz, strips the roof off your home, opens the house walls out flat as the 
petals of a plaster flower, and leaves you standing confused and disbelieving in 
the heart of a howling of smoke and damned voices; or like moving through a 
roomful of people, every one of whom tries to catch your eye and tell you the 
most important thing that ever happened to him. Nita found herself deluged in 
fragments of sights and sounds and tastes and feelings and thoughts not her own, 
a madly coexisting maelstrom of imageries from other universes, other earths, 
other times. Most of them she managed to shut out by squeezing her mind shut 
like eyes and hanging on to the spell. She sensed that Kit was doing the same 
and that their stalker was momentarily as bewildered as they were by what was 
happening. The whirling confusion seemed to be funneling through the hole in the 
spell like water going down a drainthings, concepts, creatures too large or too 
small for the hole fell through it, or past it, or around it. But sooner or 
later something just the right size would catch. (Hope we get something useful,) 
Nita thought desperately. (Something bigger than that thing, anyway.)
And thump, something fitted into the hole with snug precision, and the crazy 
whirling died away, and the two of them had company in the spellweb. Something 
small, Nita felt, very small, too smallbut no, it was big, too . . . Confused, 
she reached out to Kit.
(Is that it? Can we get out now? Before that whats-its-name)
The whats-its-name shook itself with a ripple of rage and hunger that Kit and 
Nita could feel even at a distance. It headed toward them again, quickly, done 
with playing with them.
(Uh oh!) Kit said. (Lets get outta here!)
(What do we)
(What in the) said a voice that neither of them recognized.
(Out!) Kit said, and hooked the spell into the added power that the newcomer 
provided, and pulledand plain pale daylight came down around them, heavy as a 
collapsed tent. Gravity yanked at them. Kit fell over sideways and lay there 
panting on the ground like someone whos run a race. Nita sagged, covered her 
face, bent over double right down to the ground, struggling for breath.
Eventually she began to recover, but she put off moving or opening her eyes. The 
book had warned that spelling had its prices, and one of them was the physical 
exhaustion that goes along with any large, mostly mental work of creation. Nita 
felt as if she had just been through about a hundred English tests with essay 
questions, one after another. Kit? she said, worried by his silence.
Nnngggg, Kit said, and rolled over into a sort of crouch, holding his head in 
his hands. Ooooh. Turn off the Sun.
Its not that bad, Nita said, opening her eyes. Then she winced and shut them 
in a hurry. It was.
How long have we been here? Kit muttered. The Sun shouldnt be showing here 
yet.
Its Nita said, opening her eyes again to check her watch and being 
distracted by a bright light to her right that was entirely too low to be the 
Sun, and squinting at itand then forgetting what she had started to say.
Hanging in midair about three feet away from her, inside the circle, was a spark 
of eye-searing white fire. It looked no bigger than a pinhead, but it was 
brilliant all out of proportion to its size, and was giving off light about as 
bright as that of a two-hundred-watt bulb without a shade. The light bobbed 
gently in midair, up and down, looking like a will-o-the-wisp plugged into too 
powerful a current and about to blow out. Nita sat there with her mouth open and 
stared.
The bright point dimmed slightly, appeared to describe a small tight circle so 
that it could take in Kit, the drawn circle, trees and leaves and sky; then it 
came to rest again, staring back at Nita. Though she couldnt catch what Kit was 
feeling, now that the spell was over, she could feel the lights emotions quite 
clearlyamazement, growing swiftly into unbelieving pleasure. Suddenly it blazed 
up white-hot again.
(Dear Artificer,) it said in bemused delight, (Ive blown my quanta and gone to 
the Good Place!)
Nita sat there in silence for a moment, thinking a great many things at once. 
Uhh . . . she thought. And, So I wanted to be a wizard, huh? Serves me right. 
Something falls into my world and thinks its gone to Heaven. Boy, its gonna 
get a shock. And, What in the world is it, anyway?
Kit, Nita said. Excuse me a moment, she added, nodding with abrupt courtesy 
at the light source. Kit. She turned slightly and reached down to shake him by 
the shoulder. Kit. Cmon, get up. We have company.
Mmrnp? Kit said, scrubbing at his eyes and starting to straighten up. Oh, no, 
the binding didnt blow, did it?
Nope. Its the extra power you called in. I think it came back with us.
Well, itoh, Kit said, as he finally managed to focus on the sedately hovering 
brightness, Oh. Itsuh . . . 
Right, Nita said. It says, she added, that its blown its quanta. Is that 
dangerous? she asked the light.
(Dangerous?) It laughed inside, a crackling sound like an overstimulated Geiger 
counter. (Artificer, child, it means Im dead.) Child wasnt precisely the 
concept it used; Nita got a fleeting impression of a huge volume of dust and gas 
contracting gradually toward a common center, slow, confused, and nebulous. She 
wasnt flattered.
Maybe you wont like hearing this, Nita said, but Im not sure this is the 
Good Place. It doesnt seem that way to us, anyhow.
The light drew a figure-eight in the air, a shrug. (It looks that way to me), it 
said. (Look how orderly everything is! And how much life there is in just one 
place! Where I come from, even a spores worth of life is scarcer than atoms in 
a comets tail.)
Excuse me, Kit said, but what are you?
It said something Nita could make little sense of. The concept she got looked 
like page after page of mathematical equations. Kit raised his eyebrows. It 
uses the Speech too, he commented as he listened.
So what is it?
Kit looked confused. Its name says that it came from way out in space 
somewhere, and it has a mass equal toto five or six blue-white giant stars and 
a few thousand-odd planets, and it emits all up and down the matter-energy 
spectrum, all kinds of light and radiation and even some subatomic particles. 
He shrugged. You have any idea what that is?
Nita stared at the light in growing disbelief. Wheres all your mass? she 
said. If you have that much, the gravity should have crushed us up against you 
the minute you showed up.
(Elsewhere,) the light said offhandedly. (I have a singularity-class 
temporospatial claudication.)
A warp, Nita whispered. A tunnel through space-time. Are you a white hole?
It stopped bobbing, stared at her as if she had said something derogatory. (Do I 
look like a hole?)
Do I look like a cloud of gas? Nita snapped back, and then sighedher mouth 
was getting the better of her again. Im sorry. Thats just what we call your 
kind of, uh, creature. Because you act like a hole in the Universe that light 
and radiation come through, I know youre not, really. But, Kit, she said, 
turning, wheres my pen? And wheres the power you were after? Didnt the spell 
work?
Spells always work, Kit said. Thats what the book says. When you ask for 
something, you always get back something thatll help you solve your problem, or 
be the solution itself. He looked entirely confused. I asked for that power 
aura for me, and your pen for youthat was all. If we got a white hole, it means 
hes the answer
If hes the answer, Nita said, bemused, Im not sure I understand the 
question.
(This is all fascinating,) the white hole said, (but I have to find a functional 
Advisory nexus in a hurry. I found out that the Naming of Lights has gone 
missing, and I managed to find a paradimensional net with enough empty loci to 
get me to an Advisory in a hurry. But something seems to have gone wrong. 
Somehow I dont think youre Advisories.)
Uh, no, Kit said. I think we called you
(You called me?) the white hole said, regarding Kit with mixed reverence and 
amazement. (Youre one of the Powers born of Life? Oh, Im sorry I didnt 
recognize YouI know You can take any shape but somehow Id always thought of 
You as being bigger. A quasar, or a mega-nova.) The white hole made a feeling of 
rueful amusement. (Its confusing being dead!)
Oh, brother, Kit said, Look, Im notyoure notjust not. We made a spell and 
we called you. I dont think youre dead.
(If you say so,) the white hole said, polite but doubtful. (You called me, 
though? Me personally? I dont think weve met before.)
No, we havent, Nita said. But we were doing this spell, and we found 
something, but something found us too, and we wouldnt have been able to get 
back here unless we called in some extra powerso we did, and it was you, I 
guess. Youre not mad, are you? she asked timidly. The thought of what a live, 
intelligent white hole might be able to do if it got annoyed scared her badly.
(Mad? No. As I said, I was trying to get out of my own space to get the news to 
someone who could use it, and then all of a sudden there was a paranet with 
enough loci to handle all the dimensions I carry, so I grabbed it.) The white 
hole made another small circle, looking around him curiously. (Maybe it did 
work. Are there Advisories in thison thisWhat is this, anyway?)
Kit looked at Nita. Huh?
(This,) the white hole said, (all of this.) He made another circle.
Oh! A planet, Nita said. See, theres our star. She pointed, and the white 
hole rotated slightly to look.
(Artificer within us,) he said, (maybe I have blown my quanta, after all. I 
always wanted to see a planet, but I never got around to it. Habit, I guess. You 
get used to sitting around emitting X-rays after a while, and you dont think of 
doing anything else. You want to see some?) he asked suddenly. He felt a little 
insecure. 
Maybe youd better not, Nita said.
(How come? Theyre really pretty.)
We cant see themand besides, were not built to take hard radiation. Our 
atmosphere shuts most of it out.
(A real planet,) the white hole said, wondering and delighted, (with a real 
atmosphere. Well! If this is a planet, there has to be an Advisory around here 
somewhere. Could you help me find one?)
Uhh Kit looked uncertainly at the white hole, Sure. But do you think you 
could help me find some power? And Nita get her pen back?
The white hole looked Kit up and down. (Some potential, some potential,) he 
muttered. (I could probably have you emitting light pretty quickly, if we worked 
together on a regular basis. Maybe even some alpha. Well see. Whats a pen?)
Whats your name? Kit said, I mean, we cant just call you hey you all the 
time.
(True,) the white hole said. (My name is 
Khairelikoblephareh-glukumeilichephreidosdenagouni) and at the same time he 
went flickering through a pattern of colors that was evidently the visual 
translation.
Ky-elik Nita began.
Fred, Kit said quickly. Well, he added as they looked at him again, if we 
have to yell for help or something, the other ways too long. And that was the 
only part I got, anyway.
Is that okay with you? Nita asked.
The white hole made his figure-eight shrug again. (Better than having my 
truename mangled, I guess,) he said, and chuckled silently. (Fred, then. And you 
are?)
Nita.
Kit.
(I see why you like them short,) Fred said. (All right. Tell me what a pen is, 
and Ill try to help you find it. But we really must get to an Advisory as fast 
as we can)
Okay, Kit said. Lets break the circle and go talk.
Sounds good, Nita said, and began to erase the diagrams they had drawn. Kit 
cut the wizards knot and scuffed the circle open in a few places, while Nita 
took a moment to wave her hand through the now-empty air. Not bad for a first 
spell, she said with satisfaction.
(I meant to ask,) Fred said politely, (whats a spell?)
Nita sighed, and smiled, and picked up her book, motioning Fred to follow her 
over by where Kit sat. It was going to be a long afternoon, but she didnt care. 
Magic was loose in the world.









3. Research and Development
They were at the schoolyard early the next morning, to be sure they wouldnt 
miss Joanne and her crew. Nita and Kit sat on the curb by the front door to the 
school, staring across at the packed dirt and dull grass of the athletic field 
next to the building. Kit leafed through his wizards manual, while Fred hung 
over his shoulder and looked around with mild interest at everything. (Will it 
be long?) he said, his light flickering slightly.
No, Nita said. She was shaking. After the other day, she didnt want anything 
to do with Joanne at all. But she wanted that pen back, so . . . 
Look, itll be all right, Kit said, paging through his manual. Just do it the 
way we decided last night. Get close to her, keep her busy for a little while. 
Fredll do the rest.
Its keeping her busy that worries me, Nita muttered. Her idea of busy 
usually involves her fists and my face.
(I dont understand,) Fred said, and Nita had to laugh brieflyshe and Kit had 
heard that phrase about a hundred times since Fred arrived. He used it on almost 
everything. (What are you afraid of?)
This, Nita said, pointing to her black eye. And this uncovering a bruise. 
And this, and this
Fred regarded her with a moments discomfiture. (I thought you came that way. 
Joanne makes this happen?)
Uh huh. And it hurts getting this way.
(But she only changes your outsides. Arent your insides still the same 
afterward?)
Nita had to stop and think about that one. Okay, Kit said suddenly, heres 
the Advisory list for our area. He ran a finger down the page. And heres the 
one in town. Twenty-seven Hundred Rose
Thats up the hill past the school. Whats the name?
 Lessee. Swale, T.B., and Romeo, C.J. Research Advisories, temporospatial 
adjustments, entastics, non-specific scryings 
Wait a minute, Nita said hurriedly.  Swale? You mean Crazy Swale? We cant 
go in there, Kit, that place is haunted! Everybody knows that! Weird noises are 
always coming out of there
If its haunted, Kit said, its haunted by wizards. We might as well go after 
school, its only five or six blocks up the road.
They were quiet for a while. It was about twenty minutes before the bell would 
ring for the doors to open, and a few early kids were gathering around the 
doors. Maybe we could rig you a defense against getting hit, Kit said, as he 
kept looking through his manual. How about this? He pointed at one page, and 
both Nita and Fred looked at the formula he was indicating. All it needed was 
the right words. It would be something of a strain to carry the shield for long, 
but Nita wouldnt have to; and any attempt to hit her would just glance off.
(The problem is,) Fred said, (that spell will alter the field slightly around 
this Joanne person. Im going to have a hard enough time matching my pattern to 
that of your pen so that I can get it off herif indeed she has it. Her own 
field is going to interfere, and so will yours, Nita. More stress on the space 
in the area and I might not be able to get your pen back at all.)
Nita shook her head. She could tolerate another black eye if it meant getting 
that pen back. Forget it, she said, still shaking, and leaned forward a bit, 
elbows on knees and face in hands, trying to relax. Above her the old maple 
trees were muttering morning thoughts in the early sunlight, languid 
observations on the weather and the decreasing quality of the tenant birds who 
built nests in their branches. Out in the field the grass was singing a scratchy 
soprano chorus(growgrowgrowgrowgrowgrow)which broke off abruptly and turned 
into an annoyed mob-sound of boos and razzes as one of the ground-keepers, way 
across the field, started up a lawnmower. Im good with plants, Nita thought. I 
guess I take after Dad. I wonder if Ill ever be able to hear people this way.
Kit nudged her. Youre on, he said, and Nita looked up and saw Joanne walking 
into the schoolyard. Their eyes met, Joanne recognized her, saw her handiwork, 
smiled. Now or never! Nita thought, and got right up before she had a chance to 
chicken out and blow everything. She walked over to Joanne without a pause, 
fast, to keep the tremor in her knees from showing. Oh, Fred, please be behind 
me. And what in the world can I say to her?
I want my pen back, Joanne, she saidor rather it fell out of her mouth, and 
she went hot at her own stupidity. Yet the momentary shocked look on Joannes 
face made her think that maybe saying what was on her mind hadnt been so stupid 
after all.
Joannes shock didnt last; a second later she was smiling again. Callahan, 
she said slowly, are you looking for another black eye to match that one?
Gulp. No, Nita said, just my pen, thanks.
I dont know what youre talking about, Joanne said, and then grinned. You 
always were a little odd. I guess youve finally flipped out.
I had a space pen on me the other day, and it was gone afterward. One of you 
took it. I want it back. Nita was shaking worse than ever, but she was also 
surprised that the fist hadnt hit yet. And there, over Joannes shoulder, a 
flicker, a pinpoint of light, hardly to be seen, looking at her.
(Dont react. Make me a picture of the thing now.)
What makes you think I would want anything of yours? Joanne was saying, still 
with that smile. Nita looked straight at her and thought about the pen. Silver 
barrel, grooved all around the lower half so your fingers, or an astronauts, 
wouldnt slip. Her initials engraved on it. Hers, her pen.
(Enough. Now then)
But now that I think of it, I do remember finding a pen on the ground last 
week. Lets see. Joanne was enjoying this so much that she actually nipped open 
the top of her backpack and began rummaging around. Lets see, here She came 
up with something. Silver barrel, groovedand Nita went hot again, not with 
embarrassment this time.
Its mine!
Come and get it, then, Joanne said, dropping her backpack, keeping her smile, 
holding the pen back a little.
And a spark of white light seemed to light on the end of the pen as Joanne held 
it up, and then both were gone with a pop and a breath of air. Joanne spun to 
see who had plucked the pen out of her fingers, then whirled on Nita again. Nita 
smiled and held out her hands, empty.
Joanne was not amused. She stepped in close, and Nita took a few hurried steps 
back, unable to stop grinning even though she knew she was going to get hit. 
Heads were turning all around the schoolyard at the prospect of a fight. 
Callahan, Joanne hissed, youre in for it now!
The eight-thirty bell went off so suddenly they both jumped. Joanne stared at 
Nita for a long long moment, then turned and went to pick up her backpack. Why 
hurry things? she said, straightening. Callahan, if I were you, Id sleep here 
tonight. Because when you try to leave
She walked off toward the doors. Nita stood where she was, still shaking, but 
with amazement and triumph as much as with fear. Kit came up beside her when 
Joanne was gone, and Fred appeared, a bright point between them.
You were great! Kit said.
Im gonna get killed tonight, Nita said, but she couldnt be terrified about 
it just yet. Fred, have you got it?
The point of light was flickering, and there was something about the way it did 
so that made Nita wonder if something was wrong. (Yes,) Fred said, the thought 
coming with a faint queasy feeling to it. (And thats the problem.)
Are you okay? Kit said. Whered it go?
(I swallowed it,) Fred said, sounding genuinely miserable now.
But that was what you were going to do, Nita said, puzzled. Catch it in your 
own energy-field, you said, make a little pocket and hold it there.
(I know. But my fields arent working the way they should. Maybe its this 
gravity, Im not used to any gravity but my own. I think it went down the wrong 
way.)
Oh, brother, Kit said.
Well, Nita said, at least Joanne hasnt got it. When we go to the Advisories 
tonight, maybe they can help us get it out.
Fred made a small thought-noise somewhere between a burp and a squeak. Nita and 
Kit looked up at him, concernedand then both jumped back hurriedly from 
something that went bang! down by their feet.
They stared at the ground. Sitting there on the packed dirt was a small portable 
color TV, brand new.
Uh, Fred Kit said.
Fred was looking down at the TV with embarrassment verging on shame. (I emitted 
it,) he said.
Nita stared at him. But I thought white holes only emitted little things. 
Subatomic particles. Nothing so bigor so orderly.
(I wanted to visit an orderly place,) Fred said miserably. (See what it got me!)
Hiccups, Kit muttered. Fred, I think youd better stay outside until were 
finished for the day. Well go straight to the Advisories from here.
Joanne permitting, Nita said. Kit, weve got to go in.
(Ill meet you here,) Fred said. The mournful thought was followed by another 
burp/squeak, and another bang! and four volumes of an encyclopedia were sitting 
on the ground next to the TV.
Kit and Nita hurried for the doors, sweating. Apparently wizardry had more 
drawbacks than the book had indicated . . . 
Lunch wasnt calm, but it was interesting, due to the thirty teachers, assistant 
principal, principal, and school superintendent who were all out on the athletic 
field, along with most of the students. They were walking around looking at the 
furniture, vacuum cleaners, computer components, books, knickknacks, 
motorcycles, typewriters, art supplies, stoves, sculptures, lumber, and many 
other odd things that had since morning been appearing one after another in the 
field. No one knew what to make of any of it, or what to do; and though Kit and 
Nita felt sure they would be connected with the situation somehow, no one 
accused them of anything.
They met again at the schoolyard door at three, pausing just inside it while 
Nita peered out to see if Joanne was waiting. She was, and eight of her friends 
were with her, talking and laughing among themselves. Kit, Nita said quietly, 
weve got problems.
He looked. And this is the only door we can use.
Something went bang! out in the field, and Nita, looking out again, saw heads 
turn among Joannes group. Without a moments pause every one of the girls 
headed off toward the field in a hurry, leaving Joanne to glare at the school 
door for a moment. Then she took off after the others. Kit and Nita glanced at 
each other. I get this feeling . . .  Kit said.
Lets go,
They waited until Joanne was out of sight and then leaned cautiously out of the 
door, looking around. Fred was suddenly there, wobbling in the air. He made a 
feeling of greeting at them; he seemed tired, but cheerful, at least for the 
moment.
Nita glanced over her shoulder to see what had drawn the attention of Joanne and 
her groupand drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the shiny silver Learjet. 
Fred, she said, you did that on purpose!
She felt him look back too, and his cheerfulness drowned out his weariness and 
queasiness for a moment. (I felt you wondering whether to come out, so I exerted 
myself a little. What was that thing?)
Well explain later; right now we should run. Fred, thank you!
(Youre most welcome. Just help me stop this!)
Can you hold it in for a few blocks?
(Whats a block?)
They ran down Rose Avenue, and Fred paced them. Every now and then a little of 
Freds hiccup-noise would squeak out, and he would fall behind them, controlling 
it while they ran on ahead. Then he would catch up again. The last time he did 
it, they paused and waited for him. Twenty-seven Hundred Rose had a high poplar 
hedge with one opening for the walk up to the house, and neither of them felt 
like going any farther without Fred.
(Well?) he said, when he caught up. (Now what?)
Nita and Kit looked at each other. I dont care if they are wizards, Nita 
said, I want to peek in and have a look before I just walk in there. Ive heard 
too many stories about this place
(Look,) Fred said in great discomfort, (Ive got to)
Evidently there was a limit on how long a white hole in Freds condition hold it 
in. The sound of Freds hiccup was so much louder than usual so Nita and Kit 
crowded back away from him in near-panic. The bang! sounded like the beginning 
of a fireworks display, and when its echoes faded, a powder-blue Mercedes-Benz 
was sitting half on, half off the sidewalk.
(My gnaester hurts,) Fred said.
Lets peek, Nita said, turned, and pushed a little way through the hedge. She 
wanted to be sure there were no monsters or skeletons hanging from trees or 
anything else uncanny going on in the yard before she went in. What she did not 
expect was the amiable face of an enormous black-and-white English sheepdog, 
which first slurped her face energetically, then grabbed her right arm in gentle 
but insistent teeth and pulled her straight through the hedge.
Kit! she almost screamed, and then remembered not to because Crazy Swale or 
whoever else lived here might hear her. Her cry came out as sort of a grunt. She 
heard Kit come right through the bushes behind her as the sheepdog dragged her 
along through the yard. There was nothing spooky about the place at allthe 
house was big, a two-story affair, but normal-looking, all warm wood and 
shingles. The yard was grassy, with a landscaped garden as pretty as one of her 
fathers. One side of the house had wide glass patio doors opening on a 
roofed-over terrace. Potted plants hung down and there was even a big square 
masonry tank, a fishpondNita caught a glimpse of something coppery swimming as 
the sheepdog dragged her past it to the terrace doors. It was at that point that 
the dog let go her arm and began barking noisily, and Nita began thinking 
seriously of running for it.
All right, all right, came a mans voice, a humorous one, from inside the 
house, and it was definitely too late for running. Kit came up behind Nita, 
panting. All right, Annie, lets see what youve got this time.
The screen door slid open, and Nita and Kit looked at the man who opened it in 
slight surprise. Somehow they had been expecting that any wizard not their age 
would be old, but this man was young, certainly no more than in his middle 
thirties. He had dark hair and was tall and broad-shouldered. He looked rather 
like someone out of a cigarette ad, except that he was smiling, which the men in 
cigarette ads rarely do. Well, the man said, sounding not at all annoyed by 
three unexpected guests, I see youve met Annie . . . 
She, uh, Nita said, glancing down at the dog, who was smiling at her with the 
same bemused interest as her master. She found me looking through your hedge.
Thats Annie for you, the man said, sounding a bit resigned. Shes good at 
finding things. Im Tom Swale. And he held out his hand for Nita to shake.
Nita Callahan, she said, taking it.
Kit Rodriguez, Kit said from beside her, reaching out to shake hands too.
Good to meet you. Call me Tom. What can I do for you?
Are you the Advisory? Kit said.
Toms eyebrows went up. You kids have a spelling problem?
Nita grinned at the pun and glanced over her shoulder. Fred?
Fred bobbed up between her and Kit, regarding Tom, who looked back at the 
unsteady spark of light with only moderate surprise. Hes a white hole, Nita 
said. He swallowed my space pen.
(Hi-cup!) Fred said, and bang! went the air between Kit and Nita as they stepped 
hurriedly off to either side. Fourteen one-kilogram bricks of .999-fine Swiss 
gold fell clattering to the patios brown tiles.
I can see this is going to take some explaining, Tom said, Come on in.
They followed him into the house. A big comfortable living room opened onto a 
den on one side and a bright kitchen-dining room on the other. Carl, weve got 
company, Tom called as they entered the kitchen.
What? replied a muffled voicemuffled because the upper half of its owner was 
mostly in the cabinet under the double sink. The rest of him was sprawled across 
the kitchen floor. This by itself wasnt so odd; what was odd was the assortment 
of wrenches and other tools floating in the air just outside the cabinet doors. 
From under the sink came a sound like a wrench slipping off a pipe, and a sudden 
soft thump as it hit something else. Probably its user, for Nnngg! said the 
voice under the sink, and all the tools fell clattering to the kitchen floor. 
The voice broke into some most creative swearing.
Tom frowned and smiled both at once. Such language in front of guests! You 
ought to sleep outside with Annie. Come on out of there, were needed for a 
consultation.
You really are wizards! Nita said, reassured but still surprised. She had 
rarely seen two more normal-looking people.
Tom chuckled. Sure we are. Not that we do too much freelancing these 
daysbetter to leave that to the younger practitioners, like you two.
The other man got out from under the sink, brushing himself off, He was at least 
as tall as Tom, and as broad-shouldered, but his dark hair was shorter and he 
had an impressive mustache. Carl Romeo, he said in a voice with a pronounced 
Brooklyn accent, and shook hands with Kit and Nita. Whos this? he said, 
indicating Fred. Fred hiccuped; the resulting explosion produced six black star 
sapphires the size of tennis balls. Fred here, Tom said, has a small 
problem.
I wish I had problems like that, Carl remarked. Something to drink, Fred?
(Drink? What is that?)
After a few minutes the four of them were settled around the kitchen, with Fred 
hovering nearby. It said in the book that you specialize in temporospatial 
claudications, Kit said.
Carl does. Maintenance and repair; he keeps the worldgates at Grand Central 
Station and Rockefeller Center working. Youve come to the right place.
His personal gate is acting up, huh? Carl said. Id better get the books. He 
got up. Fred, whatre the entasis figures on your warp?
Fred mentally rattled off a number of symbols in the Speech, as he had when Kit 
asked him what he was. Right, Carl said, and went off to the den.
What do you do? Nita said to Tom.
Research, mostly. Also were something of a clearinghouse for news and gossip 
in the Business. If someone needs details on a rare spell, or wants to know how 
power balances are running in a particular place, I can usually find out for 
them.
But you do other things too. Kit looked around at the house.
Oh, sure, we work. I write for a livingafter all, some of the things I see in 
the Business make good stories. And Carl sells commercial time for WNXT in the 
city. As well as regular time, on the side.
Kit and Nita looked at each other, puzzled. Tom chuckled. Well, he does 
claudications, gatings, doesnt he? Temporospatialtime and space. If you can 
squeeze spaceclaudicate itso that you pop out of one place and into another, 
why cant you squeeze time the same way? Havent you heard the saying about 
buying time? Carls the one you buy it from. Want to buy a piece of next 
Thursday?
I can get it for you wholesale, Carl said as he came back into the room. In 
his arms he was carrying several hardbound books as thick as telephone 
directories. On his shoulder, more interesting, was a splendid 
scarlet-blue-and-yellow macaw, which regarded Kit and Nita and Fred out of beady 
black eyes. Kit, Nita, Fred, Carl said, Machu Picchu. Peach for short. He 
sat down, put the books on the table, and began riffling through the one on top 
of the stack; Tom pulled one out of lower in the pile and began doing the same.
All right, Tom said, the whole story, from the beginning.
They told him, and it took a while. When they got to Freds part of the story, 
and the fact that the Naming of Lights was missing, Tom and Carl became very 
quiet and just looked at one another for a moment. Damn, Tom said, I wondered 
why the entry in the Materia Magica hadnt been updated in so long. This is 
news, all right. Well have to call a regional Advisories meeting.
Fred hiccuped again, and the explosion left behind it a years back issues of TV 
Guide.
Later, Carl said. The situation here looks like its deteriorating. He 
paused at one page of the book he was looking through, ran his finger down a 
column. The macaw peered over his shoulder as if interested. Alpharaieri 
tatheight, you said?
(Right.)
I can fix you, Carl said. Take about five minutes. He got up and headed for 
the den again.
What is the Naming of Lights? Kit said to Tom. We tried to get Fred to tell 
us last night, but it kept coming out in symbols that werent in our books.
Well, this is a pretty advanced subject. A novices manual wouldnt have much 
information on the Naming of Lights any more than the instruction manual for a 
rifle would have information on atomic bombs . . .  Tom took a drink. Its a 
book. At least thats what it looks like when its in or near this Universe. The 
Book of Night with Moon, its called here, since in these parts you need 
moonlight to read it. Its always been most carefully accounted for; the Senior 
wizards keep an eye on it. If its suddenly gone missing, weve got trouble.
Why? Nita said.
Well, if youve gotten even this far in wizardry, you know how the wizards 
symbology, the Speech, affects the things you use it on. When you use it, you 
define what youre speaking about. Thats why its dangerous to use the Speech 
carelessly. You can accidentally redefine something, change its nature. 
Something, or someone He paused, took another drink of his soda. The Book of 
Night with Moon is written in the Speech. In it, everythings described. 
Everything. You, me, Fred, Carl . . . this house, this town, this world. This 
Universe and everything in it. All the Universes . . . 
Kit looked skeptical. How could a book that big get lost?
Who said it was big? Youll notice something about your manuals after a while, 
Tom said. They wont get any bigger, but therell be more and more inside them 
as you learn more, or need to know more. Even in plain old math its true that 
the inside can be bigger than the outside; its definitely true in wizardry. But 
believe me, the Book of Night with Moon has everything described in it. Its one 
of the reasons were all herethe power of those descriptions helps keep 
everything that is, in existence. Tom looked worried. And every now and then 
the Senior wizards have to go get the Book and read from it, to remind the 
worlds what they are, to preserve everything alive or inanimate
Have you read from it? Nita said, made uneasy by the disturbed look on Toms 
face.
Tom glanced at her in shock, then began to laugh. Me? No, no. I hope I never 
have to.
But if its a good Book, if it preserves things Kit said.
It is goodat least, yes, it preserves, or lets things grow the way they want. 
But reading it, being the vessel for all that powerI wouldnt want to. Even 
good can be terribly dangerous. But this isnt anything you two need to worry 
about. The Advisories and the Senior wizards will handle it.
But you are worried, Kit said.
Yes, well Tom took another drink. If it were just that the bright Book had 
gone missing, that wouldnt be so bad. A universe can go a long time without 
affirmation-by-reading. But the bright Book has an opposite number, a dark one; 
the Book which is not Named, we call it. Its written in the Speech too, but its 
descriptions are . . . skewed. And if the bright Book is missing, the dark one 
gains potential power. If someone should read from that one now, while the Book 
of Night with Moon isnt available to counteract the power of the dark one Tom 
shook his head.
Carl came in then, the macaw still riding his shoulder. Here we go, he said, 
and dumped several sticks of chalk, an enormous black claw, and a 1943 zinc 
penny on the table. Nita and Kit stared at each other, neither quite having the 
nerve to ask what that claw had come off of. Now you understand, Carl said as 
he picked up the chalk and began to draw a circle around the table, that this 
is only going to stop the hiccups. You three are going to have to go to 
Manhattan and hook Fred into the Grand Central worldgate to get that pen out. 
Dont worry about being noticed. People use it all the time and no ones the 
wiser. I use it sometimes when the trains are late.
Carl, Tom said, doesnt it strike you as a little strange that the first 
wizardry these kids do produces Fredwho brings this news about the good 
Bookand they come straight to us
Dont be silly, the macaw on Carls shoulder said in a scratchy voice. You 
know there are no accidents.
Nita and Kit stared.
Wondered when you were going to say something useful, Carl said, sounding 
bored. You think we keep you for your looks? OW! he added, as the bird bit him 
on the car. He hit it one on the beak, and, while it was still shaking its head 
woozily, put it up on the table beside Tom.
Picchu sidled halfway up Toms arm, stopped and looked at Nita and Kit. Dos 
den agouni nikyn toude phercsthai, it muttered, and got all the way up on 
Toms shoulder, and then glared at them again. Well?
She only speaks in tongues to show off, Tom said. Ignore her, or rap her one 
if she bites you. We just keep her around because she tells the future. Tom 
made as if to smack the bird again, and Picchu ducked back. How about the 
stocks tomorrow, bird? he said.
Picchu cleared her throat.  And thats the way it is,  she said in a voice 
very much like that of a famous newscaster,  July eighteen, 1988. From New 
York, this is Walter 
Tom fisted the bird in the beak, clunk! Picchu shook her head again.
Issues were down in slow trading, she said resentfully. The Dow-Jones index . 
. .  and she called off some numbers. Tom grimaced.
I should have gone into pork bellies, he muttered. I ought to warn you twoIf 
you have pets, look out. Practicing wizardry around them can cause some 
changes.
There we go, Carl said, and stood up straight. Fred, you ready? Hiccup for me 
again.
(I cant,) Fred said, sounding nervous. (Youre all staring.)
Never mind, I can start this in the meantime. Carl leaned over the table, 
glanced down at one of the books, and began reading in the Speech, a quick flow 
of syllables sharpened by that Brooklyn accent. In the middle of the third 
sentence Fred hiccuped, and without warning the wizardry took. Time didnt 
precisely stop, but it held still, and Nita became aware of what Carls wizardry 
was doing to Fred, or rather had done alreadysubtly untangling forces that were 
knotted tight together. The half-finished hiccup and the wizardry came loose at 
the same time, leaving Fred looking bright and well for the first time since 
that morning. He still radiated uncertainty, though, like a person who isnt 
sure hes stopped hiccuping yet.
Youll be all right, Carl said, scuffing away the chalk marks on the floor. 
Though as I said, that pen is still in there with the rest of your mass, at the 
other end of your claudication, and youll need Grand Central to get it out.
(Have you stopped my emissions entirely?) Fred said,
No, of course not. I couldnt do that: youll still emit from time to time. 
Mostly what youre used to, though. Radiation and such.
Grand Central! Kit was looking worried. I dont think my mother and father 
are going to want me in the city alone. I could sneak in, I guess, but theyd 
want to know where Id been all that while.
Well, Tom said, looking thoughtful, youve got school. You couldnt go before 
the weekend anyway, right? Carl could sell you a piece of Saturday or Sunday
Kit and Nita looked at each other, and then at the two men. Uh, we dont have 
much money.
Who said anything about money? Carl said. Wizards dont pay each other cash. 
They pay off in serviceand sometimes the services arent done for years. But 
first lets see if theres any time available this weekend. Saturdays go fast, 
even though theyre expensive, especially Saturday mornings.
Tom picked up another book and began going through it. Like all the other books, 
it was printed in the same type as Nitas and Kits manuals, though the print 
was much smaller and arranged differently. This way, Tom said, you buy some 
time, you could be in the city all day, all week if you wanted to, but once you 
activate the piece of time youre holding, youre back. Then you have to pick a 
place to anchor the time to, of course, a twenty-foot radius. But after youve 
finished whatever you have to do, you bring your marked time to life, and there 
you are. Maybe five minutes before you started for the city, back at home. Or 
anywhere and anywhen else along the path youll follow that day.
Huh, Carl said suddenly, Callahan, J., and Rodriguez, C., is that you two? 
They nodded. You have a credit already, Carl said, sounding a little 
surprised. What have you two been doing to rate that?
Must have been for bringing Fred through, Tom said. I didnt know that Upper 
Management had started giving out door prizes, though.
From her perch on Toms shoulder, Picchu snorted. Oh? Whats that mean? Tom 
said. Come on, bird, be useful. Is there something you know that these kids 
ought to?
I want a raise, Picchu said, sounding sullen.
You just had one. Talk!
Brush your teeth twice a day, and see your dentist regularly, the macaw 
began, in a commercial-announcers voice. Tom made a fist and stared at her. 
All right, all right, Picchu muttered. She looked over at Kit and Nita, and 
though her voice when she spoke had the usual good-natured annoyance about it, 
her eyes didnt look angry or even teasingthey looked anxious. Nita got a 
sudden chill down her back, Dont be afraid to make corrections, Picchu said. 
Dont be afraid to lend a hand. She fell silent, seeming to think for a 
moment. And dont look down.
Tom stared at the macaw. Cant you be a little more specific?
Human lives, Picchu said irritably, arent much like the Dow-Jones index. No, 
I cant.
Tom sighed. Sorry. Kids, if she says it, she has a reason for saying itso 
remember.
Here you go, Carl said. Your piece of time is from ten forty-five to ten 
forty-seven on this next Saturday morning. There arent any weekend openings 
after that until sometime in July.
Well take this one, Kit said. At least I canNita, will your folks let you 
go?
She nodded. I have some allowance saved up, and Id been thinking about going 
into the city to get my dad a birthday present anyhow. I doubt therell be any 
trouble.
Kit looked uncomfortable for a moment. But theres something Im sure about. My 
spellour spell brought Fred here. How are we going to him back where he 
belongs?
(Am I a problem?) Fred said, sounding concerned.
Oh, no, noits just that, Fred, this isnt your home, and it seemed as sooner 
or later you might want to go back where you came from.
As far as that goes, Tom said, if its your spell that brought him youll be 
able to send him back. The instructions are in your book, same as the 
instructions for opening the Grand Central worldgate.
Stick to those instructions, Carl said. Dont be tempted to improvise. That 
claudication is the oldest one in New York, and its the trickiest because of 
all the people using it all the time. One false syllable in a spell and you may 
wind up in Schenectady.
(Is that another world?) Fred asked.
Nearly. Carl laughed. Is there anything else we can do for you?
Nita and Kit shook their heads and got up to leave, thanking Tom and Carl and 
Picchu. Let us know how things turn out, Tom said. Not that we have any 
doubtstwo wizards who can produce a white hole on the first try are obviously 
doing all right. But give us a call. Were in the book.
The two men saw Nita and Kit as far as the patio door, said their goodbyes, and 
went back into the house. Nita started off across the lawn the way she had come, 
but Kit paused for a moment by the fishpool, staring down into it. He pulled a 
penny out of his pocket, dropped it in.
Nita saw the ripples spreadand then suddenly another set of ripples wavered 
away from the head of a very large goldfish, which spat the penny back at Kit 
and eyed him with distaste. Do I throw money on your living-room floor? it 
said, and then dived out of sight.
Kit picked up his penny and went after Nita and Fred as they pushed through the 
poplar hedge again. The blue Mercedes, which had been half in the street and 
half on the sidewalk, was now neatly parked by the curb. In front of it sat 
Annie, with her tongue hanging out and a satisfied look on her face. There were 
teethmarks deep in the cars front fender, Annie grinned at them as Nita and Kit 
passed, and then trotted off down the street, probably to find something else.
If my dog starts doing things like that, Kit muttered, I dont know how Im 
going to explain it to my mother.
Nita looked down the street for signs of Joanne. If we can just get home 
without being killed, I wouldnt care what the dog found. Uh oh A good ways 
down the street, four or five girls were heading toward them, and Nita saw 
Joannes blond hair. Kit, wed better split up. No reason for them to come 
after you too.
Right. Give me a call tonight. Im in the book . . .  He took off down a side 
street. She looked around, considering the best direction to run inand then 
thought of the book she was carrying. There wasnt much time, though. She forced 
herself to calm down even while she knew they were coming for her, made herself 
turn the pages slowly to the place Kit had shown her that morning, the spell 
that made blows slide off. She read through it slowly in the street, sounding 
out the syllables, taking the time to look up the pronunciation of the ones she 
wasnt sure of, even though they were getting close and she could hear Joannes 
laugh.
Nita sat down on the curb to wait for them. They let her have it when they found 
her, as they had been intending to all day; and she rolled around on the ground 
and fell back from their punches and made what she hoped were horrible groaning 
noises. After a while Joanne and her four friends turned away to leave, 
satisfied that they had taught her a lesson. And Nita stood up and brushed 
herself off, uncut, unbruised, just a little dirty. Joanne, she called after 
them. In what looked like amazement, Joanne turned around.
Nita laughed at her. It wont work any more, she said.
Joanne stood dumb,
Never again she said. She felt like turning her back on them, but instead she 
walked toward them, watching the confusion in their eyes. On a sudden urge, she 
jumped up in the air and waved her arms crazily. BOO! she shouted.
They broke and ran, all of them. Joanne was the first, and then the rest 
followed her in a ragged tail down Rose Avenue. Not a word, not a taunt. They 
just ran.
Nita stopped short. The feeling of triumph that had been growing in her withered 
almost instantly. Some victory, she thought. It took so little, so little to 
scare them. Maybe I could have done that at any time, without a shield. Maybe. 
And now Ill never know for sure.
(Are you all right?) Fred said quietly, bobbing again by her shoulder. (They 
didnt hurt you this time.)
No, Nita said slowly. She was thinking of all the glorious plans shed had to 
use her new-found wizardry on Joanne and her bunch, to shame them, confuse them, 
hurt them. And look what so small and inoffensive thing as a body shield had 
done to them. They would hate her worse than ever now.
Ive got to be careful with this, she thought. I thought it was going to be all 
fun.
Come on, Fred, she said, lets go home.









4. Temporospatial ClaudicationsUse and Abuse
The week went by quickly for Nita. Though Carl had made the business of opening 
a worldgate sound fairly simple, she began to suspect that hed been doing it so 
long that it actually seemed that way to him. It wasnt simple, as her book told 
her as soon as she opened to the pertinent chapter, which was forty pages long 
in small print.
Grand Central worldgate had its own special requirements: specific supplies and 
objects that had to be present at an opening so that space would be properly 
bent, spells that had to be learned just so. The phone calls flew between Nitas 
house and Kits for a couple of days, and there was a lot of visiting back and 
forth as they divided up the work. Nita spent a lot of time keeping Fred from 
being noticed by her family, and also got to see a lot of Kits mother and 
father and sisters, all of whom were very friendly and kept forgetting that Nita 
couldnt speak Spanish. She started to learn a little of it in self-defense. 
Kits dog told her the brand of dog biscuits it could never get enough of; she 
began bringing them with her when she visited. The dog spoke the Speech with a 
Spanish accent, and would constantly interrupt Kit and Nita as they discussed 
who should do what in the spelling. Kit wound up with most of the spoken work, 
since he had been using the Speech longer and was better at it; Nita picked up 
supplies.
You ever swallow anything accidentally before, Fred? Nita said under her 
breath. It was late Friday afternoon, and she was in a little antiques-and-junk 
store on Nassau Road, going through boxes of dusty odds and ends in search of a 
real silver fork. Fred was hanging over her shoulder, almost invisible, a faint 
red point lazily emitting heat.
(Not for a long time) he said, glancing curiously at a pressed-glass salt-cellar 
Nita was holding. (Not since I was a black hole, certainly. Black holes know 
everything, but a white holes business is emission. Within limits,) he added, 
and the air around him rippled with heat as he shuddered. (I dont ever again 
want to emit the way I did after your pen went down. Some of those things hurt 
on the way out. And anyway, all that emission makes me nervous. Too much of that 
kind of thing and I could blow my quanta.)
She looked up at him, worried. Really? Have you emitted that much stuff that 
youre in danger of blowing up?
(Oh, not reallyId have to lose a lot more mass first. After all, before I was 
a black hole, I was a respectable-sized blue-white star, and even those days I 
massed a few hundred thousand times what your cute little yellow-dwarf Sun does. 
I wouldnt worry about itIm nowhere near the critical threshold yet.)
 Cute? Nita said.
(Well, it is . . . And I suppose theres no harm in getting better at emissions. 
I have been improving a lot. Whats that?)
Nita looked farther down in the box, dug deep, and came up with a battered old 
fork. It was scratched and its lines were bent out of shape, but it was 
definitely silver, not stainless steel. Thats what I needed, she said. 
Thanks, Fred. Now all I need is that piece of rowan wood, and then tonight I go 
over my part of the spells again.
(You sound worried.)
Well, yeah, a little, Nita said, getting up. All that week her ability to hear 
what the plants were saying had been getting stronger and surer; the better she 
got with the Speech, the more sense the bushes and trees made.
Its justthe rowan branch has to come off a live tree, Fred, and I cant just 
pick itthatd be like walking up to someone and pulling one of their fingers 
off. I have to ask for it. And if the tree wont give it to me . . . 
(Then you dont get your pen back, at least not for a while) Fred shimmered with 
colors and a feeling like a sigh. (I am a trouble to you.)
Fred, no. Put your light out a moment so we can get out of here. Nita 
interrupted the shopkeepers intense concentration on a Gothic novel long enough 
to find out what the fork cost (a dollar) and buy it. A few steps outside the 
door, Fred was pacing her again. If youre trouble, youre the best trouble 
thats happened around here for a while. Youre good to talk to, youre good 
companywhen you dont forget and start emitting cosmic rays
Fred blazed momentarily, blushing at Nitas teasing. In an excited moment the 
night before he had forgotten himself and emitted a brief blast of 
ultrashortwave radiation, which had heated up Nitas backyard a good bit and 
ionized the air for miles around, and produced a local but brilliant aurora. 
(Well, its an old habit, and old habits die hard. Im working on it.)
Heat we dont mind so much. Or ultraviolet, the longwave kind doesnt hurt 
peoples eyes,
(You fluoresce when I use that, though . . . )
Nita laughed. I dont mind fluorescing. Though on second thought, dont do that 
where anyone but Kit can see. I doubt my motherd understand.
They walked home together, chatting alternately about life in the suburbs and 
life in a part of deep space close to the Great Galactic Rift. Nita felt more 
relaxed than she had for months. Joanne had been out of sight since Monday 
afternoon at Tom and Carls. Even if she hadnt, Nita had been practicing with 
that body shield, so that now she could run through the syllables of the spell 
in a matter of seconds and nothing short of a bomb dropped on her could hurt 
her. She could even extend the spell to cover someone else, though it wasnt 
quite so effective; she had a harder time convincing the air to harden up. But 
even that lessened protection would come in handy if she and Kit should be in 
trouble together at some point and there was no time to cooperate in a spelling. 
Not that she was expecting any more trouble. The excitement of a trip into the 
city was already catching at her. And this wasnt just another shopping trip. 
Magic was loose in the world, and she was going to help work some . . . 
She ate supper and did her homework almost without thinking about either, and as 
a result had to do much of the math homework twice. By the time she was 
finished, the sun was down and the backyard was filling with a cool blue 
twilight, In the front of the house, her mother and father and Dairine were 
watching TV as Nita walked out the side door and stood on the step, letting her 
eyes get used to the dimness and looking east at the rising Moon. Canned 
laughter echoed inside the house as Fred appeared by her shoulder.
(My, thats bright for something that doesnt emit heat) Fred said, looking at 
the Moon too.
Reflected sunlight, Nita said absently.
(Youre going to talk to the tree now?)
Uh huh.
(Then Ill go stay with the others and watch that funny box emit. Maybe Ill 
figure out what its trying to get across)
Good luck, Nita said as Fred winked out. She walked around into the yard.
Spring stars were coming out as she stood in the middle of the lawn and looked 
down the length of the yard at the rowan, a great round-crowned tree snowy with 
white flowers. Nitas stomach tightened slightly with nervousness. It had been a 
long time ago, according to her manual, that the trees had to war on mankinds 
behalf, against the dark powers that wanted to prevent human intelligence from 
happening at all. The war had been a terrible one, lasting thousands of 
centuriesthe trees and other plants taking more and more land, turning barren 
stone to soil that would support them and the animals and men to follow; the 
dark powers breaking the soil with earthquake and mountain building, scouring it 
with glaciers, climate-changing good ground for desert, and burning away forests 
in firestorms far more terrible than the small brushfires any forest needs to 
stay healthy. But the trees and the other plants had won at last.
They had spent many more centuries readying the world for menbut when men came, 
they forgot the old debts and wasted the forests more terribly than even the old 
dark powers. Trees had no particular reason to be friendly to people these days. 
Nita found herself thinking of that first tree that had spoken to her, angry 
over the destruction of its friends artwork. Even though the rowan tree had 
always been well tended, she wasnt certain how it was going to respond to her. 
With the other ash trees, rowans had been in the forefront of the Battle; and 
they had long memories.
Nita sighed and sat down under the tree, book in hand, her back against its 
trunk. There was no need to start right away, anyhowshe needed a little while 
to recover from her homework. The stars looked at her through the rowans 
windstirred branches, getting brighter by the minute. There was that one pair of 
stars that always looked like eyes, they were so close together. It was one of 
the three little pairs associated with the Big Dipper. The Leaps of the Gazelle, 
the ancient Arabs had called them, seeing them as three sets of hoofprints left 
in the sky. Kafzaat al Thiba, Nita murmured, the old Arabic name. Her eyes 
wandered down toward the horizon, finding a faint reddish gleam. Regulus. And 
a whiter gleam, higher: Arcturus. And another, and another, old friends, with 
new names in the Speech, that she spoke silently, remembering Carls warning: 
(Elthathte . . . urSenaahel . . . ) The distant fires flickered among shadowy 
leaves. (Lahirien . . . )
(And Methchane and Ysen and Cahadhwy and Rasaughil . . . They are nice 
tonight.)
Nita looked up hurriedly. The tree above her was leaning back comfortably on its 
roots, finished with the stretching-upward of growth for the day, and gazing at 
the stars as she was. (I was hoping that haze would clear off) it said as 
silently as Nita had spoken, in a slow, relaxed drawl. (This will be a good 
night for talking to the wind. And other such transient creatures. I was 
wondering when you were going to come out and pay your respects, wizardling.)
(Uh) Nita was reassured: the rowan sounded friendly, (its been a busy week.)
(You never used to be too busy for me,) the rowan said, its whispery voice 
sounding ever so slightly wounded. (Always up in my branches you were, and 
falling out of them again. Or swinging. But I suppose you outgrew me.)
Nita sat quiet for a moment, remembering how it had been when she was littler. 
She would swing for hours on end, talking to herself, pretending all kinds of 
things, talking to the tree and the world in general. And some . . . (You talked 
back!) she said in shocked realization. (You did, I wasnt making it up.)
(Certainly I talked. You were talking to me, after all . . . Dont be surprised. 
Small children look at things and see them, listen to things and hear them. Of 
course they understand the Speech. Most of them never realize it any more than 
you did. Its when they get older, and stop looking and listening, that they 
lose the Speech, and we lose them) The rowan sighed, many leaves showing pale 
undersides as the wind moved them. (None of us are ever happy about losing our 
children. But every now and then we get one of you back.)
(All that in the book was true, then,) Nita said. (About the Battle of the 
Trees)
(Certainly. Wasnt it written in the Book of Night with Moon that this worlds 
life would become free to roam among our friends there)the rowan stretched 
upward toward the turning stars for a moment(if we helped? After the world was 
green and ready, we waited for a long time. We started letting all sorts of 
strange creatures live in our branches after they came up out of the water. We 
watched them all; we never knew which of our guests would be the children we 
were promised. And then all of a sudden one odd-looking group of creatures went 
down out of our branches, and looked upward again, and called us by name in the 
Speech. Your kind . . . ) The tree looked down musingly at Nita. (Youre still 
an odd-looking lot,) it said.
Nita sat against the rowan and felt unhappy. (We werent so kind to you) she 
said. (And if it werent for the plants, we wouldnt be here)
(Dont be downcast, wizardling,) the tree said, gazing up at the sky again. (It 
isnt your fault. And in any case, we knew what fate was in store for us. It was 
written in the Book.)
(Wait a minute. You mean you knew we were going to start destroying your kind, 
and you got the world ready for us anyway?)
(How could we do otherwise? You are our children.)
(But . . . we make our houses out of you, we) Nita looked guiltily at the book 
she was holding. (We kill you and we write on your bodies!)
The rowan continued to gaze up at the night sky. (Well,) it said. (We are all in 
the Book together, after all. Dont you think that we wrote enough in the rock 
and the soil, in our day? And we still do. We have our own lives, our feelings 
and goals. Some of them you may learn by your wizardry, but I doubt youll ever 
come to know them all. We do what we have to, to live. Sometimes that means 
breaking a rocks heart, or pushing roots down into the ground that screams 
against the intrusion. But we never forget what were doing. As for you)and its 
voice became very gentle(how else should our children climb to the stars but up 
our branches? We made our peace with that fact a long time ago, that we would be 
used and maybe forgotten. So be it. What you learn in your climbing will make 
all the life on this planet greater, more precious. You have your own stories to 
write. And when it comes to that, who writes the things written in your body, 
your life? And who reads?) It breathed out, a long sigh of leaves in the wind. 
(Our cases arent that much different.)
Nita sat back and tried to absorb what the tree was saying. (The Book of Night 
with Moon,) she said after a while. (Do you know who wrote it?)
The rowan was silent for a long time. (None of us are sure,) it said at last. 
(Our legends say it wasnt written. Its simply been, as long as life has been. 
Since they were kindled, and before.) It gazed upward at the stars.
(Then the other Book, the dark one)
The whole tree shuddered. (That one was written, they say.) The rowans voice 
dropped to a whisper. (By the Lone Powerthe Witherer, the one who blights. The 
Kindler of Wildfires. Dont ask more. Even talking about that one or its works 
can lend it power.)
Nita sat quiet for a while, thinking. (You came to ask something,) the rowan 
said. (Wizards are always asking things of rowans.)
(Uh, yes.)
(Dont worry about it,) the rowan said. (When we decided to be trees of the 
Light, we knew we were going to be in demand.)
(WellI need some live wood. Just enough for a stick, a little wand. Were going 
to open the Grand Central worldgate tomorrow morning.)
Above Nitas head there was a sharp cracking sound. She pressed back against the 
trunk, and a short straight branch about a foot and a half long bounced to the 
grass in front of her. (The Moon is almost full tonight,) the rowan said. (If I 
were you, Id peel the leaves and bark off that twig and leave it out to soak up 
moonlight. I dont think itll hurt the woods usefulness for your spelling, and 
it may make it more valuable later on.)
(Thank you, yes,) Nita said. The book had mentioned something of the sorta 
rowan rod with a nights moonlight in it could be used for some kind of defense. 
She would look up the reference later. (I guess I should go in and check my 
spells over one more time. Im awfully new at this.)
(Go on,) the tree said, with affection. Nita picked up the stick that the rowan 
had dropped for her, got up and stretched, looking up at the stars through the 
branches. On impulse she reached up, hooked an arm around the branch that had 
had the swing on it.
(I guess I could still come and climb sometimes,) she said.
She felt the tree looking at her, (My name in the Speech is Liused,) it said in 
leafrustle and starflicker. (If theres need, remember me to the trees in 
Manhattan. You wont be without help if you need it.)
Im Nita, she said in the Speech, aloud for this once. The syllables didnt 
sound strange: they sounded like a native language and made English feel like a 
foreign tongue. For a moment every leaf on the tree quivered with her name, 
speaking it in a whispery echo.
(Go,) the rowan said again. (Rest well.) It turned its calm regard to the stars 
again.
Nita went back inside.
Saturday morning about eight, Kit and Nita and Fred took the bus down to the 
Long Island Railroad station and caught a shiny silver train for Manhattan. The 
train was full of the usual cargo of Saturday travelers and shoppers, none of 
whom paid any particular attention to the boy and girl sitting by one window, 
going over the odd contents of their backpacks with great care. Also apparently 
unnoticed was a faint spark of white light hanging in the center of the window 
between the two, gazing out in fascination at the backyards and parking lots and 
stores the train passed.
(What are all those dead hunks of metal there? All piled up?)
(Cars, Fred.)
(I thought cars moved.)
(They did, once.)
(They all went there to die?)
(They were dead when they got there, probably.)
(But theyve all climbed on top of each other! When they were dead?)
(No, Fred. They have machines)
(What was that? There are threeI dont know who those were, but they have them 
shut up in a box hanging from that long thing.)
(No one you know, Fred. That was a traffic light.)
(It was emittingLook, hes trying to say something! Hello! Hello!)
(Fred, youre flashing! Calm down or someonell see you!)
(Well, I dont know what a nice guy like him was doing in a place like that.)
Nita sighed out loud, Where were we? she said to Kit.
The battery.
Right. Well, here it is.
Lithium-cadmium?
Right. Heavy thing, it weighs more than anything else weve got that last thing 
for activating the piece of time, isnt it? What more. The eight and a half 
sugar cubes.
Nita held up a little plastic bag. Now the worldgate stuff. The pine cone
Bristlecone pine. Nita held it up, then dropped it in her backpack.
Aspirin.
Uh-huh.
The fork.
Here.
The rowan branch.
Yup. She held it up. Cut down and peeled, it was about a foot long, a 
greenish-white wand.
Great. Then were set. Youve got all that other stuff, why dont you give me 
the battery?
Here. Nita handed it to him, watched as he found a good spot for it in his 
backpack, under the sandwiches. Whats that? she said, spotting something that 
hadnt been accounted for in the equipment tally.
Huh? Oh, this. He reached in and brought out a slim piece of metal like a 
slender rod, with a small knob at one end and broken off jaggedly at the other.
What is it?
A piece of junk. A busted-off car antenna. Well, Kit amended, it was, anyway. 
I was sitting out behind the garage yesterday afternoon, reading, and I started 
talking to my dads old car. He has this ancient Edsel. Hes always talking 
about getting it reconditioned, but I dont think hes really going totheres 
never enough money. Anyway he goes out every now and then to work on the engine, 
usually when hes tired or mad about something. I dont know if he ever really 
gets any work done, but he always comes inside greasy all over and feeling a lot 
better. But I was going over the spells in my head, and the car spoke to me in 
the Speech
Out loud?
No, inside, like Fred does. Kind of a grindy noise, like its voice needed a 
lube job. I wasnt too surprised; that kind of thing has been happening since I 
picked the book up. First it was rocks, and then things started to talk to me 
when I picked them up. They would tell me where theyd been and whod handled 
them. Anyway, the car and I started talking, Kit paused, looking a touch 
guilty. They dont see things the way we do. We made them, and they dont 
understand why most of the time we make things and then just let them wear out 
and throw them away afterward . . . 
Nita nodded, wondering briefly whether the train was alive too. Certainly it was 
as complex as a car. What about this antenna thing, though? she said after a 
moment.
Oh. The car said to take it for luck. It was just lying there on the ground, 
rusting. Dad replaced the antenna a long time ago. So I took it inside and 
cleaned it up, and there are some wizardries you can do with metal, to remind it 
of the different forces it felt when it was being made. I did a couple of those. 
Partly just practicing, partly . . . 
You thought there might be trouble, Nita said.
Kit looked at her, surprised. I dont know, he said. Im going to be careful 
anyway. Carl was pretty definite about not messing around with the worldgate; I 
wasnt thinking about anything like that. But it occurred to me, itll be easy 
to carry the antenna to school if I wanted to. And if anyone started bothering 
me He shrugged, then laughed. Well, thats their problem. Hey, look, were 
getting close to that big curve where you can see the city before you go under 
the river. Come on, these trains have a window in the very front of the first 
car. Fred! Want to see where were going?
(Why not? Maybe Ill understand it better than where weve been.)
Kit and Nita wriggled into their backpacks and made their way up through a 
couple of cars, hanging on carefully as they crossed the chained walkways 
between them. Treetops and housetops flashed by in a rush of wind and clatter of 
rails. Each time Nita touched the bare metal of the outside of the train, she 
jumped a little, feeling something, she wasnt quite sure what. The train? she 
thought. Thinking? And now that Im aware that it does, I can feel it a 
little?though not as clearly as the trees. Maybe my specialty is going to be 
things that grow and Kits is going to be things that run. But how many other 
kinds of life are there that I could learn to feel? Who knows where thought is 
hiding? . . . 
They went into the first car and made their way up to the front window, 
carefully hanging on to the seats of oblivious riders to keep the swaying of the 
train from knocking them over. There were no more stops between there and Penn 
Station, and the train was plunging along, the rails roaring beneath it. Those 
rails climbed gradually as the already elevated track went higher still to avoid 
a triple-stacked freeway. Then the rails bent away to the left in a long 
graceful curve, still climbing slightly; and little by little, over the low 
brown cityscape of Brooklyn, the towers of Manhattan rose glittering in the 
early sunlight. Gray and crystal for the Empire State Building, silver-blue for 
the odd sheared-off Citibank building, silver-gold for the twin square pillars 
of the World Trade Center, and steely white fire for the scalloped tower of the 
Chrysler Building as it caught the Sun. The place looked magical enough in the 
bright morning. Nita grinned to herself, looking at the view and realizing that 
there was magic there. That forest of towers opened onto other worlds. One day 
she would open that worldgate by herself and go somewhere.
Fred stared at the towers, amazed. (This is more life? More even than the place 
where you two live?)
(Ten million lives in the city, Fred. Maybe four or five million on that island 
alone.)
(Doesnt it worry you, packing all that life together? What if a meteor 
hitsWhat if theres a starflare? If something should happen to all that 
lifehow terrible!)
Nita laughed to herself. (It doesnt seem to worry them . . . ) Beside her, Fred 
was hanging on to a seat, being rocked back and forth by the trains speed. Very 
faintly Nita could hear what Kit heard and felt more strongly; the trains 
aliveness, its wild rushing joy at doing what it was made to doits dangerous 
pleasure in its speed, the wind it fought with, the rails it rode. Nita shook 
her head in happy wonder. And I wanted to see the life on other planets. Theres 
more life in this world than I expected . . . 
(Its beautiful,) Fred said from his vantage point just above Kits shoulder.
It really is, Nita said, very quiet.
The train howled defiant joy and plunged into the darkness under the river.
Penn Station was thick with people when they got there, but even so it took them 
only a few minutes to get down to the Seventh Avenue Subway station and from 
there up to Times Square and the shuttle to Grand Central. The shuttle ride was 
short and crowded. Nita and Kit and Fred were packed tight together in a corner, 
where they braced themselves against walls and seats and other people while the 
train shouted along through the echoing underground darkness.
(I cant feel the Sun,) Fred said, sounding worried.
(Were ten or twenty feet underground,) Nita said silently. (Well get you some 
Sun as soon as we get off.)
Kit looked at Fred with concern. (Youve been twitchy ever since we went into 
the tunnel, havent you?)
Fred didnt speak for a moment. (I miss the openness,) he said then. (But worse 
I miss the feeling of your star on me. Where I come from no one is scaled away 
from the surrounding emissions.) He trailed off, his thoughts full of the 
strange hiss and crackle of interstellar radiationsubtly patterned sound, 
rushing and dying away and swelling up againthe Speech in yet another of its 
forms. Starsong, Nita thought. (You said you heard about the Book of Night with 
Moon,) she said. (Was that how? Your . . . friends, your people, they actually 
talk to each other over all those distancesmillions of lightyears?)
(Thats right. Not that we use light to do it, of course. But the words, the 
song, they never stop. Except now. I can hardly hear anything but neutrinos . . 
. )
Kit and Nita glanced at each other. (The worldgate is underground, Fred,) Kit 
said. (In back of a deli, a little store. Well have to be there for at least a 
few minutes to get Nitas pen out.)
(We could go out first and look around,) Nita said. (Were earlyits only nine 
thirty. We dont even have to think about anchoring the timeslide for a little 
bit yet.)
The subway cars screeched to a halt, doors rolled open, and the crush loosened 
as people piled out. Nita got off gladly, looking around for directional signs 
to point the way toward the concourse level of Grand Centralit had been a while 
since shed been there.
Are you sure you know your way around this place? Kit said as Nita headed down 
one torn-up looking corridor.
Uh huh. Theyre always doing construction in here. Cmon.
She led them up a flight of stairs into the lower Grand Central concourseall 
beige tiles, gray floor, signs pointing to fifty different trains, and small 
stores packed together. The delis down there, she said as she went, waving a 
hand at a crowd of hurrying people and the wide hall past them. We go up here. 
And another flight of stairs, wider and prettier, let them out on the upper 
concourse, a huge stretch of cream-colored marble under a great blue dome 
painted with constellations and starred with lights.
They headed across the marble floor, up a short ramp, and out one of many brassy 
yellow doors, onto the street. Immediately the three of them were assailed by 
noise, exhaust fumes, people hurrying in all directions, a flood of cabs and 
buses and cars. But there was also sunlight, and Kit and Nita stood against the 
wall by the Grand Central doors, letting Fred soak it up and get his composure 
back. He did so totally oblivious to the six men and three jackhammers working 
just across the street behind a barrier of saw-horses and orange plastic cones. 
(Thats much better,) he said.
(It was quieter inside, though,) Kit said, and Nita was inclined to agree with 
him. The rattling clamor of the jackhammers was climbing down her ears into her 
bones and making her teeth jitter. The men, two burly ones and one skinny one, 
all three broad-shouldered and tan, all in helmets and jeans and boots, appeared 
to be trying to dig to China. One of them hopped down into the excavation for a 
moment to check its progress, and vanished up to his neck. Then the hammering 
started again, How can they stand it? Nita muttered.
(Stand what? Its lovely out here.) Fred danced about a little in the air, 
brightening out of invisibility for a few moments and looking like a long-lived 
remnant of a fireworks display.
(Fred, put it out!) Kit said. (If somebody sees you)
(They didnt see me in the field the other day,) Fred replied, (though Artificer 
knows they looked.)
(Probably the Learjet distracted them. Fred, come on, tone it down a little) 
Nita said. (Lets go back inside and do what we have to. Then we can use the 
timeslide and have fun in the city for the rest of the day.)
They went back inside and down the stairs again, accompanied by the inward sound 
of Freds grumbling. There was no trouble finding the area where the worldgate 
was situated, and Nita and Kit paused outside. (You have everything ready?) Nita 
said.
(In here.) Kit tapped his head. (The spells are all set except for one or two 
syllablesits like dialing almost all of a phone number. When I call for you, 
just come on back. All we need is for the supplies to be in range of the spell; 
theres nothing special that has to be done with them. Fred, you stay with 
Nita.)
(As you say.)
They went in. Nita lingered by the front counter, staring at dill pickles and 
sandwich makings, trying to look normal while she waited for Kit to call her. 
Fred hung over her shoulder, looking with great interest at bologna and salami 
and mayonnaise and cream cheese. (You people certainly have enough ways to 
internalize energy,) he said. (Is there really that much difference between one 
brand of matter and another?)
(Well, wasnt there any difference when you were a black hole? Didnt a rock, 
say, taste different from a ray of light, when you soaked one or the other up?)
(Now that you mention it, yes. But appreciating differences like that was 
something you had to work at for a long time. I wouldnt expect someone as young 
as you to)
(Nita,) Kits thought came abruptly. (Weve got trouble. Its not here.)
(What? It has to be!)
(Its gone, Nita.)
Girlie, said the man behind the deli counter in a no-nonsense growl, you 
gonna buy anything?
Uh, Nita said, and by reflex more than anything else picked up a can of soda 
from the nearby cooler and fished around in her pocket for the change, Kit 
she called.
Coming.
Nita paid for the soda. Kit joined her, carrying a small bag of potato chips, 
which he paid for in turn, Together they went back out into the corridor, and 
Kit knelt down by the window of a store across the way, a window full of shiny 
cutlery. He got his wizards manual out of his pack and began going through the 
pages in a hurry. I dont get it, he said. I even checked this morning to 
make sure there hadnt been any change in the worldgate status. It said, right 
here, patent and operative. 
Were the spells all right?
Kit glared up at Nita, and she was instantly sorry shed asked. The spells were 
fine, Kit said. But they got caught like that first one I did, when you came 
along. Oh, damn . . .  He trailed off, and Nita edged around beside him to look 
at the page, Somethings changed, Kit said, and indeed the page didnt look as 
it had when Nita had checked it herself in her own manual the night before. The 
listings for the other Manhattan worldgates were the samethe World Trade Center 
gate was still listed as under construction and the Rockefeller Center gate as 
closed for routine maintenance. But under the Grand Central gate listing was a 
small red box that said in boldface type, Claudication temporarily dislocated 
due to unscheduled spatial interruption, followed by a string of numbers and 
symbols in the Speech, a description of the gates new location. Kit glanced up 
at the roof, through which the sound of jackhammers could plainly be heard. The 
construction, he said. It must have screwed up the worldgates interruption of 
space somehow.
Nita was puzzling over the symbols for the new location. Isnt that term there 
the one for height above the ground? she asked.
Uh huh. Look at it, it must be sixty, seventy stories straight up from here. 
Kit slapped the book shut in great annoyance, shoved it back in his backpack. 
Now what do we do?
(We go back outside?) Fred said, very hopefully.
It seemed the best suggestion. The three of them walked out again, and Fred 
bobbed and danced some more in the sunlight while Nita and Kit walked slowly 
eastward along Forty-second Street, toward the Park Avenue overpass. 
Dislocated, Kit muttered, And who knows how long itll take to come 
undislocated? A perfectly good piece of time wasted.
Nita stopped and turned, looking up into the air and trying to estimate where 
the deli lay under the Grand Central complex. She picked a spot that seemed 
about right, let her eye travel up and up, sixty, maybe seventy stories. Kit, 
she said. Kit! Look whats seventy stories high, and right next door.
Kit looked. Dark blue and silver, with its big stylized globe logo on one side, 
the Pan Am Building reared its oblong self up at least seventy stories high, 
right therenot only right behind Grand Central, but part of it. Yeah, Kit 
said, his voice still heavy with annoyance. So?
So you remember that shield spell you showed me? The one that makes the air 
solid? If you change the quantities in the spell a little, you can use it for 
something else. To walk on, even. You just keep the air hard.
She couldnt keep from grinning. Kit stared at Nita as if shed gone crazy. Are 
you suggesting that we walk out to the worldgate and He laughed. How are we 
going to get up there?
Theres a heliport on top of the building, Nita said promptly. They wont use 
it for big helicopters any more, but the little ones still land, and theres an 
elevator in the building that goes right to the top. Theres a restaurant up 
there too; my father had lunch with someone up there once. I bet we could do 
it.
Kit stared at her. If you talk the air solid, you re going to walk on it 
first! I saw that spell; its not that easy.
I practiced it some. Come on, Kit, you want to waste the timeslide? Its almost 
ten now! Itll probably be years before these guys are finished digging. Lets 
do it!
Theyll never let us up there, Kit said with conviction.
Oh, yes, they will. They wont have a choice, because Fredll make a diversion 
for us. We dont even need anything as big as a Learjet this time. How about it, 
Fred?
Fred looked at them reluctantly. (I must admit I have been feeling an urge to 
burp)
Kit still looked uncertain. And when we get up there, he said, all those 
stories up, and looking as if were walking on nothingwhat if somebody sees 
us?
Nita laughedWho are they going to tell? And whos going to believe them?
Kit nodded and then began to grin slowly too. Yeah, he said. Yeah! Lets go, 
its getting late.
Back they went into Grand Central, straight across the main concourse this time 
and up one of the six escalators that led up to the lobby of the Pan Am 
Building. They paused just outside the revolving doors at the end of the 
escalators. The Pan Am lobby was a big place, pillared and walled and paved in 
dark granite, echoing with the sound of people hurrying in and out of the 
station. They went up the escalator to the next floor, and Nita pointed off to 
one side, indicating an elevator bank. One elevator had a sign standing by it: 
copter clubhelipad levelexpress. Also standing by it was a bored-looking 
uniformed security guard.
Thats it, Nita said.
So if we can just get him away from there . . . 
Its not that simple. She pointed down at the end of the hall between two more 
banks of elevators. Another guard sat behind a large semicircular desk, watching 
a row of TV monitors. Theyve got cameras all over the place. Weve got to get 
that guy out of there too. Fred, if youre going to do something, do it right 
between them. Out in front of that desk.
(Well,) Fred said, sounding interested, (lets see, lets see . . . ) He damped 
his light down and floated off toward the elevators, nearly invisible unless you 
were looking for him, and even then looking like an unusually large speck of 
dust, nothing more. The dustmote stopped just between the desk and the elevator 
guard, hung in midair, and concentrated so fiercely that Nita and Kit could both 
feel it thirty feet away.
(Thupt)
bang!
Thatll get their attention, Kit muttered. It did; both the guards started at 
the noise, began looking around for the source of itthen both went very very 
slowly over to examine the large barrel cactus in a brass pot that had suddenly 
appeared in the middle of the shiny floor.
Now, Kit said, and took off toward the elevator with Nita close behind.
Both the guards had their backs turned, and Nita, passing them, saw the elevator 
keys hanging off one guards belt. (Fred,) she said hurriedly, (can you grab 
those real fast, the way you grabbed my pen? Dont swallow them!)
(Once I might make that mistake,) Fred said, (but not twice.) As they slipped 
into the elevator Fred paused by the guards belt, and the keys vanished without 
so much as a jingle. He sailed in to them. (How was that?)
(Great. Quick, Nita, close the door!)
She punched one of the elevator buttons and the doors slid shut; the keys 
appeared again, and Kit caught them in midair before they fell. Its always one 
of these round ones, like they use on coin phones, he said, going through the 
keys. Fred, I didnt know you could make live things!
(I didnt know either,) Fred said, sounding unsettled, (and Im not sure I like 
it!)
Here we go Kit said, and put one key into the elevator lock, turning it to 
run, and then pressed the button marked 73restauranthelipad. The elevator took 
off in a hurry; it was one of the high-speed sort.
Nita swallowed repeatedly to pop her ears. Arent you going to have to change 
the spells a little to compensate for the gate being up high now? she said 
after a moment.
A little. You just put in the new height coordinate. Oops!
The elevator began to slow down quickly, and Nitas stomach churned for a 
moment. She and Kit both pressed themselves against the sides of the elevator, 
so they wouldnt be immediately visible to anyone who might happen to be 
standing right outside the door. But when the doors slid open, no one was there. 
They peered out and saw a long carpeted corridor with a plate-glass door at one 
end. Through it could be seen tables and chairs and, more dimly, through a 
window, a hazy view of the East Side skyline. A muffled sound of plates and 
silverware being handled came down the hall to them.
(Its early for lunch,) Nita said, relieved. (Lets go before someone sees us.)
(What about these keys?)
(Hmm . . . )
(Look, lets leave them in the elevator lock. That way the guard downstairsll 
just think he left them there. If they discover theyre missing theyll start 
looking for whoever took themand this would be the first place theyd look.)
(Yeah, but how are we going to get down?)
(Well walk on air,) Kit said, his voice teasing. Nita rolled her eyes at the 
ceiling. (Or well go down with the people coming out from lunch, if that 
doesnt work. Lets just get out of here first, okay? Which way do we go to get 
on the heliport?).
(There are stairs.)
They slipped out of the elevator just as it chimed and its doors shut 
againprobably the guard had called it from downstairs. The corridor off to the 
left was featureless except for one door at its very end. helipad access, the 
door said in large red letters. Nita tried the knob, then let her hand fall in 
exasperation. (Locked, Crud!)
(Well, wait a moment,) Kit said, and tried the knob himself. You dont really 
want to be locked, do you? he said aloud in the Speech, very quietly. Again 
Nita was amazed by how natural the wizards language sounded when you heard it, 
and how nice it was to hearas if, after being lost in a foreign country for a 
long time, someone should suddenly speak warmly to you in English. Youve been 
locked for a couple of days now, Kit went on, his voice friendly and 
persuasive, not casting a spell, just talkingthough in the Speech, the two were 
often dangerously close. It must be pretty dull being locked, no one using you, 
no one paying any attention. Now we need to use you at least a couple of times 
this morning, so we thought wed ask
Kt-chk! said the lock, and the knob turned in Kits hand. Thank you, he said. 
Well be back later. He went through the door into the stairwell, Nita and 
Fred following, and as the door swung to behind them and locked itself again, 
there was a decidedly friendly sound to the click. Kit grinned triumphantly at 
Nita as they climbed the stairs. How about that?
Not bad, Nita said, determined to learn how to do it herself, if possible, 
Youve been practicing too.
Not reallysome of this stuff just seems to come naturally as you work with it 
more. My mother locked herself out of the car at the supermarket last week and I 
was pulling on the car door and talking at ityou know how you do when youre 
trying to get something to work. And then it worked. I almost fell over, the 
door came open so fast. Its the Speech that does it, I think. Everything loves 
to hear it.
Remember what Carl said, though.
I know. I wont overdo it. You think we ought to call him later, let him know 
what happened to the gate?
They came to the top of the stairs, paused before the next closed door, 
breathing hard from the exertion of climbing the stairs fast. Probably he 
knows, if hes looked at his book this morning, Nita said. Look, before we do 
anything else, lets set the timeslide. This is a good place for it; were out 
of sight. When were tired of running around the city, we can just activate it 
and well be back here at quarter of eleven. Then we just go downstairs, into 
Grand Central and downstairs to the shuttle, and then home in time for lunch.
Sounds good. They began rummaging in their backpacks, and before too long had 
produced the eight and a half sugar cubes, the lithium-cadmium batterya fat 
one, bigger than a D cell and far heaviera specific integrated-circuit chip 
salvaged from the innards of a dead pocket calculator, the handle of a broken 
glass teacup. You might want to back away a little, Fred, so your emissions 
dont interfere with the spell, Kit said.
(Right.) Fred retreated high up into one ceiling-corner of the stairwell, 
flaring bright with interest. There was a brief smell of burning as he 
accidentally vaporized a cobweb.
All right, Kit said, thumbing through his manual to a page marked with a bit 
of ripped-up newspaper, here we go. This is a timeslide inauguration, he said 
aloud in the Speech. Claudication type mesarrhgimelveingtsix, authorization 
group
Nita swallowed, feeling the strangeness set in as it had during their first 
spell together, feeling the walls lean in to listen. But it was not a silence 
that fell this time. As Kit spoke, she became aware of a roaring away at the 
edge of her hearing and a blurring at the limits of her vision. Both effects 
grew and strengthened to the overwhelming point almost before she realized what 
was happening. And then it was too late. She was seeing and hearing everything 
that would happen for miles and miles around at quarter to eleven, as if the 
building were transparent, as if she had eyes that could pierce stone and ears 
that could hear a leaf fall blocks away. The words and thoughts of a million 
minds poured down on her in a roaring onslaught like a wave crashing down on a 
swimmer, and she was washed away, helpless. Too many sights, commonplace and 
strange, glad and frightening, jostled and crowded all around her, and squeezing 
her eyes shut made no differencethe sights were in her mind. Ill go crazy, 
Ill go crazy, stop it! But she was caught in the spell and couldnt budge. Stop 
it, oh, let it stop
It stopped. She was staring at the floor between her and Kit as she had been 
doing when the flood of feelings swept over her. Everything was the same as it 
had been, except that the sugar was gone. Kit was looking at her in concern. 
You all right? he said. You look a little green.
Uh, yeah. Nita rubbed her head, which ached slightly as if with the memory of 
a very loud sound.
What happened to the sugar?
It went away. That means the spell took. Kit began gathering up the rest of 
the materials and stowing them, He looked at her again. Are you sure youre 
okay?
Yeah, Im fine. She got up, looked around restlessly. Cmon, lets go.
Kit got up too, shrugging into his backpack. Yeah. Which way is the
crack! went something against the door outside, and Nitas insides contracted. 
She and Kit both threw themselves against the wall behind the door, where they 
would be hidden if it opened. For a few seconds neither of them dared to 
breathe.
Nothing happened.
(What was that?) Kit asked.
(I dont know. It sounded like a shot. Lord, Kit what if theres somebody up 
here with a gun or something)
(Whats a gun?) Fred said.
(You dont want to know,) Kit said. (Then again, if there was somebody out there 
with a gun, I doubt they could hurt you. Fred, would you go out there and have a 
quick look around? See whos there?)
(Why not?) Fred floated down from the ceiling, looked the door over, put his 
light out, and slipped through the keyhole. For a little while there was 
silence, broken only by the faint faraway rattle of a helicopter going by, 
blocks away.
Then the lock glowed a little from inside, and Fred popped back in. (I dont see 
anyone out there,) he said.
Kit looked at Nita. (Then what made that noise?)
She was as puzzled as he was. She shrugged. (Well, if Fred says theres nothing 
out there)
(I suppose. But lets keep our eyes open.)
Kit coaxed the door open as he had the first one, and the three of them stepped 
cautiously out onto the roof.
Most of it was occupied by the helipad proper, the long wide expanse of bare 
tarmac ornamented with its big yellow square-and-H symbol and surrounded by blue 
low-intensity landing lights. At one end of the oblong pad was a small 
glass-walled building decorated with the Pan Am logo, a distended orange 
windsock, and an anemometer, its three little cups spinning energetically in the 
brisk morning wind. Beyond the helipad, the roof was graveled, and various 
low-set ventilator stacks poked up here and there. A yard-high guardrail edged 
the roof. Rising up on all sides was Manhattan, a stony forest of buildings in 
all shapes and heights. To the west glimmered the Hudson River and the Palisades 
on the New Jersey side; on the other side of the building lay the East River and 
Brooklyn and Queens, veiled in mist and pinkish smog. The Sun would have felt 
warm if the wind had stopped blowing. No one was up there at all.
Nita took a few steps off the paved walkway that led to the little glass 
building and scuffed at the gravel suspiciously. This wind is pretty stiff, 
she said. Maybe a good gust of it caught some of this gravel and threw it at 
the door. But even as she said it, she didnt believe it.
Maybe, Kit said. His voice made it plain that he didnt believe it either 
Come on, lets find the gate.
That side, Nita said, pointing south, where the building was wider. They 
headed toward the railing together, crunching across the gravel. Fred perched on 
Nitas shoulder; she looked at him with affection. Worried?
(No. But you are.)
A little. That sound shook me up. She paused again, wondering if she heard 
something behind her. She turned. Nothing; the roof was bare. But stillNita 
turned back and hurried to catch up with Kit, who was looking back at her.
Something?
I dont know. I doubt it. You know how you see things out of the corner of your 
eye, movements that arent there? I thought maybe the door moved a little.
I dont know about you, Kit said, but Im not going to turn my back on 
anything while Im up here. Fred, keep your eyes open. Kit paused by the 
railing, examining the ledge below it, maybe six feet wide, then looked up 
again. On second thought, do you have eyes?
(I dont know,) Fred said, confused but courteous as always. (Do you have 
chelicerae?)
Good question, Nita said, a touch nervously. Kit, lets do this and get out 
of here.
He nodded, unslung his pack, and laid the aspirin, pine cone, and fork on the 
gravel by the railing. Nita got out the rowan wand and dropped it with the other 
materials, while Kit went through his book again, stopping at another marked 
spot. Okay, he said after a moment. This is an imaging-and-patency spell for 
a temporospatial claudication, asdekh class. Purpose: retrieval of an 
accidentally internalized object, matter-energy quotient . . .  Kit read a long 
string of syllables, a description in the Speech of Nitas pen, followed by 
another symbol group that meant Fred and described the properties of the little 
personal worldgate that kept his great mass at a great distance.
Nita held her breath, waiting for another onslaught of uncanny feelings, but 
none ensued. When Kit stopped reading and the spell turned her loose, it was 
almost a surprise to see, hanging there in the air, the thing they had been 
looking for. Puckered, roughly oblong, vaguely radiant, an eight-foot scar on 
the sky; the worldgate, about a hundred feet out from the edge where they stood 
and maybe thirty feet below the heliport level.
Well, Kit said then, sounding very pleased with himself. There we are. And it 
looks all right, not much different from the description in the book.
Now all we have to do is get to it. Nita picked up the rowan wand, which for 
the second part of the spell would serve as a key to get the pen through the 
worldgate and out of Fred. She tucked the wand into her belt, leaned on the 
railing, and looked out at the air.
According to the wizards manual, air, like the other elements, had a memory and 
could be convinced in the Speech to revert to something it had been before. It 
was this memory of being locked in stone as oxides or nitrates, or frozen solid 
in the deeps of space, that made the air harden briefly for the spell. Nita 
started that spell in its simplest form and then went on into a more formal one, 
as much a reminiscence as a convincingshe talked to the air about the old days 
when starlight wouldnt twinkle because there was nothing to make it do so, and 
when every shadow was sharp as a razor and distances didnt look distant because 
there was no air to soften them. The immobility came down around her as the 
spell began to say itself along with Nita, matching her cadence. She kept her 
eyes closed, not looking, for fear something that should be happening might not 
be. Slowly with her words she began to shape the hardening air into an oblong, 
pushing it out through the other, thinner air she wasnt including in the spell. 
Its working better than usual, faster, she thought. Maybe its all the smog 
herethis airs half solid already. She kept talking.
Kit whispered something, but she couldnt make out what and didnt want to try. 
I know its a strain, being solid these days, she whispered in the Speech, 
but just for a little while, just to make a walkway out to that puckered place 
in the sky, then you can relax. Nothing too thick, just strong enough to walk 
on
Nita. Nita!
The sound of her name in the Speech caught her attention. She opened her eyes. 
Arrow-straight, sloping down from the lower curb of the railing between her and 
Kit, the air had gone hard. There was dirt and smog trapped in it, making the 
sudden walkway more translucent than transparentbut there was no mistaking it 
for anything but air. It had a more delicate, fragile look than any glass ever 
could, no matter how thin. The walkway ran smooth and even all the way out to 
the worldgate, widening beneath it into room enough for two to stand.
Wow! Nita said, sagging against the railing and rubbing at her eyes as she let 
the spell go. She was tired; the spelling was a strainand that feeling of 
nervousness left over from the loud noise outside the stairwell came back. She 
glanced over her shoulder again, wondering just what she was looking for.
Kit peered over the railing at the walkway. This better be some pen, he said, 
and turned his back to the worldgate, watching the roof. Go ahead.
Nita made sure her backpack was slung properly, checked the rowan wand again, 
and slowly swung over the guardrail, balancing on the stone in which it was 
rooted. She was shaking, and her hands were wet. If I dont just do this, she 
thought, I never will. Just one step down, Callahan, and then a nice solid 
walkway straight across. Really. Believe. Believe. Ouch!
The air was so transparent that she misjudged the distance down to ither foot 
hit before she thought it would, and the jolt went right up her spineStill 
holding the railing, Nita lifted that foot a bit, then stomped down hard on the 
walkway. It was no different from stomping on a sidewalk. She let her weight 
down on that foot, brought the second down, and stomped with that too. It was 
solid.
Its solid as rock, Kit! she said, looking up at him, still holding the rail.
Sure, Kit said, skeptical. Let go of the rail first.
Nita made a face at Kit and let go. She held both arms out at first, as she 
might have on a balance beam in gym, and then waved them experimentally. See? 
It works. Fred?
Fred bobbed down besides her, looking with interest at the hardened air of the 
walkway. (And it will stay this way?)
Until I turn it loose. Well? She took a step backward, farther onto the 
walkway, and looked up challengingly. How about it?
Kit said nothing, just slung his own backpack over his shoulders and swung over 
the railing as Nita had done, coming down cautiously on the hardened air. He 
held on to the rail for a moment while conducting his own tests of the airs 
solidity. Come on, Nita said. The winds not too bad.
Lead the way.
Nita turned around, still holding her arms a little away from her to be sure of 
her balance, and started for the worldgate as quickly as she dared, with Fred 
pacing her cheerfully to the left. Eight or ten steps more and it was becoming 
almost easy. She even glanced down toward the walkwayand there she stopped very 
suddenly, her stomach turning right over in her at the sight of the dirty, 
graveled roof of Grand Central, a long, long, long fall below. Dont look 
down, a memory said to her in Machu Picchus scratchy voice. She swallowed, 
shaking all over, wishing she had remembered the advice earlier.
Nita, whats the
Something went whack! into the walkway. Nita jumped, lost her balance, and 
staggered back into Kit. For a few awful seconds they teetered back and forth in 
wind that gusted suddenly, pushing them toward the edge togetherand then Kit 
sat down hard on the walkway, and Nita half fell on top of him, and they held 
very still for a few gasps.
Wh-what
I think it was a pigeon, Nita said, not caring whether Kit heard the 
tremulousness of her voice. You okay?
Sure, Kit said, just as shakily. I try to have a heart attack every day 
either I need one or not. Get off my knee, huh?
They picked each other up and headed for the gate again. (Even you have trouble 
with gravity,) Fred said wonderingly as he paced them. (Im glad I left my mass 
elsewhere.)
So are we, Nita said. She hurried the last twenty steps or so to the place at 
the end of the walkway, with Kit following close.
She knelt down in a hurry, to make sure the wind wouldnt push her over, and 
looked up at the worldgate. Seen this close it was about four feet by eight, the 
shape of a tear in a piece of cloth. It shone with a glowing, shifting, 
soap-bubble iridescence. Finally, finally, my pen! she thoughtbut somehow, the 
thought didnt make Nita as happy as it should have. The uneasy feeling that had 
started in the stairwell was still growing She glanced over her shoulder at Kit. 
He was kneeling too, with his back to her, watching the walkway and the rooftop 
intently. Beside her, Fred hummed softly, quietly waiting.
(Now what?) he asked.
Nita sighed, pulled the rowan rod out of her belt, and inserted one end of it 
delicately into the shimmering veil that was the surface of the worldgate. 
Though the city skyline could be seen very clearly through the shimmer, the inch 
or so of the wand that went through it appeared to vanish. Just perch yourself 
on the free end here, Nita said, holding the wand by its middle. Make contact 
with it the same way you did with those keys. Okay?
(Simple enough.) Fred floated to the end of the rod and lit there, a bright, 
still spark. (All right, Im ready.)
Nita nodded. This is a retrieval, she said in the Speech. Involvement 
confined to a pen with the following characteristics: msedhzayin six point 
three
(Nita!)
The note of pure terror in Kits mind-voice caused Nita to do the 
unforgivablebreak off in the middle of a spell and look over her shoulder. 
Shapes were pouring out of the little glass shelter building, which had been 
empty, and was still somehow empty even as Nita looked. She got a first 
impression of grizzled coats, red tongues that lolled and slavered, fangs that 
gleamed in the sunlight, and she thought, Wolves!
But their eyes changed her mind as ten or twelve of the creatures loped across 
the roof toward the transparent walkway, giving tongue in an awful mindless 
cacophony of snarls and barks and shuddering howls. The eyes. Peoples eyes, 
blue, brown, green, but with almost all the intelligence gone out of them, 
nothing left but a hot deadly cunning and an awful desire for the taste of 
blood. From her reading in the wizards manual, she knew what they were: 
perytons. Wolves would have been preferablewolves were sociable creatures. 
These had been people once, people so used to hating that at the end of life 
theyd found a way to keep doing it, by hunting the souls of others through 
their nightmares. And once a peryton caught you . . . 
Nita started to hitch backward in total panic and then froze, realizing that 
there was nowhere to go. She and Kit were trapped. Another second and the 
perytons would be on the bridge, and at their throats, for eternity. Kit whipped 
his head around toward Nita and the worldgate. Jump through and break the 
spell! he yelled.
But And she grabbed his arm, pushed the rowan wand through and yelled, Come 
on, Fred! The first three perytons leaped the guard-rail and landed on the 
bridge, running. Nita threw herself and Kit at the gate, being careful of the 
edges, as she knew she must, while screaming in absolute terror the word that 
would dissolve the walkway proper. For a fraction of a second she caught the 
sound of screams other than her own, howls of creatures unseen but falling. Then 
the shimmer broke against her face like water, shutting out sound, and light, 
and finally thought.
Blinded, deafened, and alone, she fell forever . . . 









5. Exocontinual Protocols
She lay with her face pressed against the cold harsh gravel, feeling the grit of 
it against her cheek, the hot tears as they leaked between her lashes, and that 
awful chill wind that wouldnt stop tugging at her clothes. Very slowly Nita 
opened her eyes, blinked, and gradually realized that the problem with the place 
where she lay was not her blurred vision. It was just very dim there. She leaned 
on her skinned hands, pushed herself up, and looked to see where she was.
Dark-gray gravel was all around. Farther off, something smooth and dark, with 
navy-blue bumps. The helipad. Farther still, the railing, and beyond it the sky, 
dark. That was oddit had been morning. The sound of a moan made Nita turn her 
head. Kit was close by, lying on his side with his hands over his face. Sitting 
on his shoulder, looking faint as a spark about to go out, was Fred.
Nita sat up straighter, even though it made her head spin. She had fallen a long 
way, she didnt want to remember how far . . . Kit, she whispered. You okay? 
Fred?
Kit turned over, pushed himself up on his hands to a sitting position, and 
groaned again. Fred clung to him. I dont think I busted anything, Kit 
saidslow and uncertain. I hurt all over. Fred, what about you?
(The Sun is gone,) Fred said, sounding absolutely horrified.
Kit looked out across the helipad into the darkness and rubbed his eyesMe and 
my bright ideas. What have I got us into?
As much my bright idea as yours, Nita said. If it werent for me, we wouldnt 
have been out by that worldgate in the first place. Anyway, Kit, where else 
could we have gone? Those perytons
Kit shuddered. Dont even talk about them. Id sooner be here than let them get 
me. He got to his knees, then stood up, swaying for a moment. Oooh. Cmon, 
lets see where the worldgate went.
He headed off across the gravel. Nita got up on her knees too, then caught sight 
of a bit of glitter lying a few feet away and grabbed at it happily. Her pen, 
none the worse for wear. She clipped it securely to the pocket of her shirt and 
went after Kit and Fred.
Kit was heading for the south-facing railing. I guess since you only called for 
a retrieval, the gate dumped us back on top of the . . . 
His voice trailed off suddenly as he reached the railing. Nita came up beside 
him and saw why.
The city was changed. A shiver ran all through Nita, like the odd feeling that 
comes with an attack of deja vubut this was true memory, not the illusion of 
it. She recognized the place from her first spell with Kitthe lowering, 
sullen-feeling gloom, the shadowed island held prisoner between its dark, icy 
rivers. Frowning buildings hunched themselves against the oppressive, slaty sky. 
Traffic moved, but very little of it, and it did so in the dark. Few headlights 
or taillights showed anywhere. The usual bright stream of cars and trucks and 
buses was here only dimly seen motion and a faint sound of snarling engines. And 
the sky! It wasnt clouded over; it wasnt night. It was empty. Just a 
featureless grayness, hanging too low, like a ceiling. Simply by looking at it 
Nita knew that Fred was right. There was no Sun behind it, and there were no 
starsonly this wall of gloom, shutting them in, imprisoning them with the 
presence Nita remembered from the spell, that she could feel faintly even now. 
It wasnt aware of her, but
She pushed back away from the rail, remembering the rowans words. (The Other. 
The Witherer, the Kindler of Wildfires)
Kit, she said, whispering, this time doing it to keep from perhaps being 
overheard by that. I think we better get out of here.
He backed away from the rail too, a step at a time. Well, he said, very 
slowly, now we know what your pen was doing in New York City . . . 
The sooner its out of here, the happier Ill be. Kitwhere did the world-gate 
go!
He shook his head, came back to stand beside her. Wherever it went, its out 
there now.
Nita let out an unhappy breath. Why should it be? Everything else is changed. 
She looked back at the helipad. The stairwell was still there, but the door had 
been ripped away and lay buckled on the gravel. The helipad had no design 
painted on it for a helicopter to center on when landing.
The glass of the small building by the pad was smashed in some places and all 
around; the building was full of rubble and trash, a ruin. Where are we? Nita 
said.
The place we saw in the spell. Manhattan
But different. Nita chewed her lip nervously. Is this an alternate world 
maybe? The next universe over? The worldgate was just set for a retrieval but we 
jumped through; maybe we messed up its workings. Carl said this one was easy to 
mess up.
I wonder how much trouble you get in for busting a worldgate, Kit muttered.
I think were in enough trouble right now. We have to find the thing.
(See if you can find me the Sun and the stars and the rest of the Universe while 
youre at it,) Fred said. He sounded truly miserable, much worse than when he 
had swallowed the pen. (I dont know how long I can bear this silence.)
Kit stood silent for a moment, staring out at that grim cold cityscape. There 
is a spell we can use to find it that doesnt need anything but words, he said. 
Good thing. We dont have much in the way of supplies. Well need your help, 
though, Fred. Your claudication was connected to the worldgates when we went 
through. You can be used to trace it.
(Anything to get us out of this place,) Fred said.
Well, Nita said, lets find a place to get set up.
The faint rattling noise of helicopter rotors interrupted her. She looked 
westward along the long axis of the roof, toward the dark half-hidden blot that 
was Central Park, or another version of it.
A small flying shape came wheeling around the corner of a skyscraper a few 
blocks away and cruised steadily toward the roof where they stood, the sharp 
chatter of its blades ricocheting more and more loudly off the blank dark faces 
of neighboring skyscrapers. We better get under cover, Kit said. Nita started 
for the stairwell, and Kit headed after her, but a bit more slowly. He kept 
throwing glances over his shoulder at the approaching chopper, both worried by 
it and interested in it. Nita looked over her shoulder too, to tell him to 
hurryand then realized how close the chopper was, how fast it was coming. A 
standard two-seat helicopter, wiry skeleton, glass bubble protecting the seats, 
oval doors on each side. But the bubbles glass was filmed over except for the 
doors, which glittered oddly. They had a faceted look. No pilot could see out 
that, Nita thought, confused. And the skids, the landing skids are wrong 
somehow. The helicopter came sweeping over their heads, low, too low.
KIT! Nita yelled. She spun around and tackled him, knocking him flat, as the 
skids made a lightning jab at the place where he had been a moment before, and 
hit the gravel with a screech of metal. The helicopter soared on past them, 
refolding its skids, not yet able to slow down from the speed of its first 
attack. The thunderous rattling of its rotors mixed with another sound, a high 
frustrated shriek like that of a predator that has missed its killand almost 
immediately they heard something else too, an even squealing, ratchety and 
metallic, produced by several sources and seeming to come from inside the ruined 
glass shelter.
Kit and Nita clutched at each other, getting a better look at the helicopter 
from behind as it swung around for another pass. The skids were doubled-back 
limbs of metal like those of a praying mantis, cruelly clawed. Under what should 
have been the helicopters bubble, sharp dark mandibles worked hungrilyand as 
the chopper heeled over and came about, those faceted eyes looked at Kit and 
Nita with the cold, businesslike glare reserved for helpless prey.
Were dead, Nita whispered.
Not yet. Kit gasped, staggering up again. The stairwell Together he and 
Nita ran for the stairs as the chopper-creature arrowed across the rooftop at 
them. Nita was almost blind with terror; she knew now what had torn the door off 
the stairwell and doubted there was any way to keep that thing from getting 
them. They fell into the stairwell together. The chopper roared past again, not 
losing so much time in its turn this time, coming about to hover like a deadly 
dragonfly while positioning itself for another jab with those steel claws. Kit 
fell farther down the stairs than Nita did, hit his head against a wall and lay 
moaning. Nita slid and scrabbled to a stop, then turned to see that huge, 
horrible face glaring into the stairwell, sighting on her for the jab. It was 
unreal. None of it could possibly be real; it was all a dream; and with the 
inane desperation of a dreamer in nightmare, Nita felt for the only thing at 
hand, the rowan rod, and slashed at the looming face with it.
She was completely unprepared for the result. A whip of silver fire the color of 
the Moon at full cracked across the bubble-face from the rod, which glowed in 
her hand. Screaming in pain and rage, the chopper-creature backed up and away, 
but only a little. The razor-combed claws shot down at her. She slashed at them 
too, and when the moonfire curled around them, the creature screamed again and 
pulled them back.
Kit! she yelled, not daring to turn her back on those raging, ravenous eyes. 
Kit! The antenna!
She heard him fumbling around in his pack as the hungry helicopter took another 
jab at her, and she whipped it again with fire. Quite suddenly something fired 
past her eara bright, narrow line of blazing red light the color of metal in 
the forge. The molten light struck the helicopter in the underbelly, pattering 
in bright hot drops, and the answering scream was much more terrible this time.
Its a machine, Nita said, gasping. Your department.
A real threat, Kit said, crawling up the stairs beside her. How do you kill a 
helicopter? But he braced one arm on the step just above his face, laid the 
antenna over it, and fired again. The chopper-creature screeched again and away.
Kit scrambled up to his feet, pressed himself flat against what remained of the 
crumbling doorway, pointed the antenna again. Red fire lanced out followed by 
Nitas white as she dove back out into the stinging wind and thunder of rotors 
and slashed at the horror that hung and grabbed from midair. Gravel flew and 
stung, the wind lashed her face with her hair, the air was full of that 
car-tearing metallic scream, but she kept slashing. White fire snapped and 
curledand then from around the other side of the chopper-creature there came a 
sharp crack! as a bolt of Kits hot light fired upward. The scream that followed 
made all the preceding ones sound faint. Nita wished she could drop the wand and 
cover her ears, but she didnt dareand anyway she was too puzzled by the 
creatures reaction. That shot hadnt hit anywhere on its body that she could 
see. Still screaming, it began to spin helplessly in a circle like a toy 
pinwheel. Kit had shattered the helicopters tail rotor. It might still be 
airborne, but it couldnt fly straight, or steer. Nita danced back from another 
jab of those legs, whipped the eyes again with the silver fire of the rowan wand 
as they spun past her. From the other side there was another crack! and a 
shattering sound, and the bubble-head spinning past her again showed one faceted 
eye now opaque, spiderwebbed with cracks. The helicopter lurched and rose, 
trying to gain altitude and get away.
Across the roof Kit looked up, laid the antenna across his forearm again, took 
careful aim, fired. This time the molten line of light struck through the 
blurring main rotors. With a high, anguished, ringing snap, one rotor flew off 
and went pinwheeling away almost too fast to see. The helicopter gave one last 
wild screech, bobbled up, then sideways, as if staggering through the air. Get 
down! Kit screamed at Nita, throwing himself on the ground. She did the same, 
covering her head with her arms and frantically gasping the syllables of the 
defense-shield spell.
The explosion shook everything and sent gravel flying to bounce off the hardened 
air around her like hail off a car roof, ragged blade shards snapped and rang 
and shot in all directions. Only when the roaring and the wash of heat that 
followed it died down to quiet and flickering light did Nita dare to raise her 
head. The helicopter-creature was a broken-backed wreck with oily flame licking 
through it. The eye that Kit had shattered stared blindly up at the dark sky 
from the edge of the helipad; the tail assembly, twisted and bent, lay half 
under the creatures body. The only sounds left were the wind and that shrill 
keening from the little glass building, now much muted. She rid herself of the 
shielding spell and got slowly to her feet. Fred? whispered.
A pale spark floated shakily through the air to perch on her (Here,) he said, 
sounding as tremulous as Nita felt (Are you well?)
She nodded, walked toward the wreck. Kit stood on the other side of it, his fist 
clenched on the antenna. He was shaking visibly. The sight of his terror made 
Nitas worse as she came to stand by him. Kit, she said, fighting the urge to 
cry and losingtears spilled out anyway. This is not a nice place, she said.
He gulped, leaking tears himself. No, he said, trying to keep his voice 
steady, it sure isnt, He looked over at the glass-walled building.
Yeah, Nita said, scrubbing at her face. We better have a look.
Slowly and carefully they approached the building, came to one collapsed wall, 
peered in. Nita held her wand high, so they could see by its glow. Inside, 
hidden amid the trash and broken glass, was what seemed to be a rude nest built 
of scraps of metal and wire. In the nest were three baby helicopters, none more 
than two feet long. They stared fiercely at Kit and Nita from tiny faceted eyes 
like their parents, and threatened with little jabbing forelegs, whirring with 
rotors too small to lift them yet. Sharing the nest with the fledglings was the 
partially stripped skeleton of a dog.
Kit and Nita turned away together. I think maybe we should go downstairs a 
little ways before we do that finding spell, Kit said, his voice still shaking. 
If theres another of those things
Yeah. They headed down the stairwell, to the door that in their own world had 
opened onto the elevator corridor. The two of them sat down, and Nita laid the 
rowan wand in her lap so there would be lightthe ceiling lights in the 
stairwell were out, and the place felt like the bottom of a hole.
Fred, Kit said, howre you holding up?
Fred hung between them, his light flickering. (A little better than before. The 
silence is still very terrible. But at least you two are here.)
Well find you the Sun, Fred, Nita said, wishing she was as sure as she was 
trying to sound. Kit, which spell was it you were going to use?
Kit had his manual out. At the bottom of three eighteen. Its a double, we read 
together.
Nita got out her own book, paged through it. McKillips Stricture? Thats for 
keeping grass short!
No, no! Kit leaned over to look at Nitas manual. Huh. How about that, our 
pages are different. Look under Eisodics and Diascheses. The fourth one after 
the general introduction. Davidsons Minor Enthalpy.
Nita ruffled through some more pages. Evidently her book had more information 
than Kits on the spells relating to growing things. Her suspicion about what 
their specialties were grew stronger. Got it. She glanced through the spell. 
Fred, you dont have to do anything actually. But this is one of those spells 
thatll leave us blind to whats happening around here. Watch for us?
(Absolutely!)
Okay, Kit said. Ready? Onetwothree
They spoke together, slowly and carefully, matching cadence as they described 
the worldgate, and their own needs, in the Speech.
The shadowy stairwell grew darker still, though this darkness seemed less 
hostile than what hung overhead; and in the deepening dimness, the walls around 
them slowly melted away. It seemed to Nita that she and Kit and the small bright 
point between them hung at a great height, unsupported, over a city built of 
ghosts and dreams. The buildings that had looked real and solid from the roof 
now seemed transparent skeletons, rearing up into the gloom of this place. Stone 
and steel and concrete were shadowsand gazing through them, down the length of 
the island, Nita saw again the two points of light that she and Kit had seen in 
the first spell.
The closer one, perhaps ten blocks north in the east Fifties, still pulsed with 
its irregular, distressing light. Compelled by the spells working, Nita looked 
closely at it, though that was the last thing she wanted to dothat bit of angry 
brightness seemed to be looking back at her. But she had no choice. She examined 
the light, and into her mind, poured there by the spell, came a description of 
the lights nature in the Speech. She would have backed away, as she had from 
the perytons, except that again there was nowhere to go. A catalogue, of sorts, 
that light wasa listing, a set of descriptions. But all wrong, all twisted, 
angry as the light looked, hungry as the helicopter-creature had been, hating as 
the surrounding darkness was, full of the horrors that everything in existence 
could become. The Book which is not Named
Nita struggled, though unable to move or cry out; her mind beat at the spell 
like a bird in a cage, and finally the spell released her. But only to look in 
the other direction, downtown toward the Wall Street end of the island. There in 
the illogical-looking tangle of streets built before the regular gridwork of 
Manhattan was laid down, buried amid the ghosts of buildings, another light 
throbbed, regular, powerful, unafraid. It flared, it dazzled with white-silver 
fire, and Nita thought of the moonlight radiance of the rowan wand.
In a way, the spell said, this second light was the source of the wands power, 
even though here and now the source was bound and limited. This time the 
syllables of the Speech were no crushing weight of horror. They were a song, one 
Nita wished would never stop. Courage, merriment, an invitation to everything in 
existence to be what it was, be the best it could be, grow, livedescription, 
affirmation, encouragement, all embodied in one place, one source, buried in the 
shadows. The Book of Night with Moon.
A feeling of urgency came over Nita, and the spell told her that without the 
protection of the bright Book, she and Kit and Fred would never survive the 
hungry malevolence of this place long enough to find the worldgate and escape. 
Nor, for that matter, would they he able to find the worldgate at all; it was 
being held against them by powers adept in wizardries more potent than anything 
the two of them could manage. It would be folly to try match wizardries with the 
Lone Power on its own ground, this outworld long given over to its rule. Their 
best chance was to find the bright Book and free it of the constraint that held 
its power helpless. Then there might be a chance.
The spell shut itself off, finished. Walls and physical darkness curdled around 
them again. Kit and Nita looked at each other, uncertain.
Weve been had, Kit said.
Nita shook her head, not following him.
Remember Tom saying it was odd that our first spell turned up Fred and the news 
that the bright Book was missing? And what Picchu said then?
There are no accidents, Nita murmured.
Uh huh. How likely do you think it is that all this is an accident? Something 
wanted us here, I bet. Kit scowled. They might have asked us! Its not fair!
Nita held still for a moment, considering this. Well, maybe they did ask us.
Huh? Not me, I
The Oath.
Kit got quiet quickly. Well, he admitted after a while, it did have all kinds 
of warnings in front of it. And I went ahead and read it anyway.
So did I. Nita closed her eyes for a second, breathing out, and heard 
something in the back of her head, a thread of memory; Did I do right? Go find 
out . . . Look, she said, opening her eyes again, maybe were not as bad off 
as we think. Tom did say that younger wizards have more power. We dont have a 
lot of supplies, but were both pretty good with the Speech by now, and Fred is 
here to help. Were armed She glanced down at the rowan wand, still lying 
moon-bright in her lap.
For how long? Kit said. He sighed too. Then again, I guess it doesnt matter 
muchif were going to find the bright Book, the only way to do it is to hurry. 
Somebody knows were here. That thing showed up awful fast He nodded at the 
roof.
Yeah. Nita got up, took a moment to stretch, then glanced down at Kit. He 
wasnt moving. Whats the matter?
Kit stared at the antenna in his hands. When I was talking to the Edsel, he 
said, it told me some things about the Powers that didnt want intelligence to 
happen in machines. They knew that people would start talking to them, make 
friends with them. Everybody would be happier as a result.
Those Powers He looked up. If I understood that spell right, the one which 
owns this place is the chief of them all, the worst of them. The Destroyer, the 
engenderer of rust
Kit!
I know, you shouldnt name it He got up, held out a hand to Fred who hobbled 
over to Kit and came to rest on his palm. But thats who were up against. Or 
what. Fred, do you know what were talking about?
Freds thought was frightened but steady. (The Starsnuffer,) he said. (The one 
who saw light come to be and could not make it in turnand so rebelled against 
it, and declared a war of darkness. Though the rebellion didnt work as well as 
it might have, for darkness only made the light seem brighter.)
Kit nodded. Thats the one. If we do get the bright Book, thats wholl come 
after us.
Fred shuddered, a flicker of light so like a spark about to go out in the wind 
that Kit hurriedly tucked the antenna under his arm and cupped his other hand 
around Fred protectively. (Ive lost enough friends to that one,) Fred said, 
(Heard enough songs stilled. People gone nova before their time, or fallen 
through naked singularities into places where you burn forever but dont learn 
anything from it.)
For a moment neither of them could follow Freds thought. Though he was using 
the Speech, as always, they couldnt follow what other things he was describing, 
only that they were as terrible to him as a warped thing like the 
helicopter-creature was to them. (No matter,) he said at last. (You two are part 
of the answer to stopping that kind of thing. Otherwise my search for an 
Advisory nexus wouldnt have brought me to you. Lets do what we can.)
Kit nodded. Whatever that is. I wish I knew where to begin.
Nita leaned back against the wall. Didnt Tom say something about the two Books 
being tied together? So that you could use one to guide you to the other?
Yeah.
Well. Were not too far from the dark one. Nita swallowed. If we could get 
hold of thatand use it to lead us to the bright one. That vision only gave a 
general idea of where the Book of Night with Moon was. Probably because of it 
being restrained, or guarded, or whatever
Kit looked at Nita as if she had taken leave of her senses. Steal the dark 
Book? Sure! And then have He waved his hand at the northward wall, not wanting 
to say any name and Lord knows what else come chasing after us?
Why not? Nita retorted. Its a better chance than going straight for the 
bright one, which we know is guarded somehow. Wed go fumbling around down there 
in the financial district and probably get caught right away. But why would they 
guard the dark Book? Theyre the only ones who would want it! I bet you we could 
get at the dark one a lot more easily than the other.
Kit chewed his lip briefly. Well? Nita said. What do you think?
I think youre probably nuts. But we cant just sit here, and it wouldnt hurt 
to go see what the situation isFred?
(Lead,) Fred said, (Ill follow.)
Kit gently tossed Fred back into the air and paused long enough to put his book 
away. He didnt put the antenna away, though. The rowan wand glowed steadily, 
and brilliantly. Cant you damp that down a little? Kit said. If somebody 
sees us
No, I cant. I tried. Nita cast about for ways to hide it, finally settled on 
sticking it in her back jeans pocket and settling her down vest over it. 
Better?
Yeah. Kit had turned his attention to the doorknob. He touched it, spoke 
softly to it in the Speech, turned it. Nothing happened. Not listening? he 
wondered out loud, and bent to touch the keyhole. Now whyOw! He jumped back, 
almost knocking Nita over.
Whats the matter?
Kit was sucking on his finger, looking pained. Bit me! he said, removing the 
finger to examine it. It bled.
I get the feeling, Nita said slowly, that theres not much here thats 
friendly.
Yeah. Kit looked glumly at the doorknob, I guess wed better consider 
everything we see potentially dangerous. He lifted the antenna, bent down by 
the lock again, and touched the keyhole delicately with the knob at the 
antennas end. A brief red spark spat from the antenna; the innards of the lock 
clicked. This time when Kit turned the knob, the door came open a crack.
With great caution he opened the door a bit more, peered out, then opened it all 
the way and motioned Nita to follow him. Together they stepped out into a hall 
much like the elevator corridor in their own world, but dark and silent. (The 
elevator?) Kit said inwardly, not wanting to break that ominous quiet.
(Do you trust it?)
(No. Know where the stairs are?)
(Down the way we came. Past the elevator.)
The door to the main stairway had to be coerced into opening by the same method 
as the door to the roof. When they were through it Kit spent another moment 
getting it to lock again, then stepped over to the banister and looked down at 
story after story of switchback stairs. (It could be worse,) Nita said. (We 
could be going up.)
(It will be worse,) Kit said. (If the worldgate stays at this level, were going 
to have to come back up . . . )
They headed down. It took a long time. The few times they dared to stop was when 
Kit and Nita heard odd muffled noises through the wallsvaguely threatening 
scrapes and groans and rumbles, the kind of sounds heard in nightmares. The 
stairs were as dark as the corridor had been, and it was hard to sit in the 
corner of a landing, rubbing aching legs, with only the light of Nitas wand to 
argue with the blackness that towered above and yawned below, as those sounds 
got louder.
They quickly lost count of how many stories downward theyd gone. All the 
landings looked the same, and all the doors from them opened off into the same 
pitch-blacknessuntil finally Kit eased one open as he had eased open scores of 
others and abruptly stood very still. He put his hand out behind him, (Nita! The 
wand.)
She passed it to him. It dimmed in his hand from moonfire to foxfire, a faint 
silver glimmer that he held out the door as he looked around. (Its all that 
shiny stone, like the other lobby, There should be a way down into the station, 
then)
Nitas hair stood up on end at the thought. (Kit, you saw what happened to 
helicopters. Do you really want to meet a train? Lets go out on the street 
level, okay?)
He gulped and nodded. (Which way?)
(Theres a door out onto Forty-fifth Street. Cmon.)
She slipped out, and Kit followed with the wand. Its pale light reached just far 
enough ahead to gleam off the glass wall at the end of the corridor. Near it was 
the down escalator, frozen dead. They made their way softly down it, then across 
the slick floor and out the glass doors to the street.
It was nearly as dark outside as it had been inside; a night without a hint of 
Moon or stars. The air down there wasnt as chill as it had been on the 
buildings roof, but it stank of dark city smellsexhaust, spilled gasoline, 
garbage, and soot. The gutter was clogged with trash. They stepped out to cross 
Forty-fifth
No, Nita hissed, startled into speech, and dragged Kit back into the dark of 
the doorway. Pale yellow-brown light flickered down the street, got brighter. A 
second later, with a snarl of its engine, a big yellow Checker Cab hurled itself 
past them, staring in front of it with headlight-eyes burned down to yellow 
threads of filamenteyes that looked somehow as if they could see. But the cab 
seemed not to notice them. Its snarl diminished as it plunged down the street, 
leaving a whirl of dirty paper and dead leaves in its wake. Kit coughed as its 
exhaust hit them.
(That was alive,) he said when he got his breath back. (The same way the 
helicopter was.)
Nita made a miserable face. (Lets get outta here,) she said.
Kit nodded. She led him off to their left, through the Helmsley-Spear Building, 
which should have been bright with gold-leafed statuary. Here it was gray with 
soot, and the carvings stared down with such looks of silent malice that Nita 
refused to glance up more than that once.
She hoped for some more encouraging sight as they came onto Forty-sixth Street 
and looked up Park Avenue. The hope was vain. The avenue stretched away and 
slightly upward for blocks as it did in their own world, vanishing in the murk. 
But the divider between the uptown and downtown lanes, usually green with 
shrubbery, had become one long tangle of barren thorn bushes. The old-fashioned 
red-and-green traffic lights burned low and dark as if short on power; and no 
matter how long one watched, they never changed from red. The shining 
glass-and-steel office buildings that had lined the avenue in their Manhattan 
were grimy shells here, the broad sidewalks before them cluttered with rubbish. 
Nothing moved anywhere, except far up Park, where another pair of yellow eyes 
waited at a corner.
Those eyes made Nita nervous. (This way,) she said. She hurried past a dirty 
granite facade full of still doors and silent windows. Kit followed close, and 
Fred with him, both looking worriedly at everything they passed.
Nita was doing her best to keep herself calm as they turned the corner onto 
Forty-seventh. It cant all be as bad as the helicopter, she told herself. And 
nothing really bad has happened to us yet. It was just the shock of the
She jumped back into the shadow of a building on hearing a clapping sound so 
loud she felt sure the helicopters mate was coming for them. Fred and Kit 
huddled terrified into that shadow too, and it took a few seconds for any of 
them to find the source of the sound. Not more than five or six feet from them, 
a pigeon had landeda sooty-dark one, cooing and strutting and head-bobbing in a 
perfectly normal fashion. It walked away from them, muttering absently, intent 
on its own pursuits. Kit poked Nita from behindnot a warning: a teasing poke. 
(Getting jumpy, huh.)
(Yeah, well, you were the one who said)
The lightning-stroke of motion not six feet away knocked the merriment right out 
of them. What had seemed a perfectly ordinary fire hydrant, dull yellow, with 
rust stains and peeling paint, suddenly cracked open and shot out a long, pale, 
ropy tongue like a toads. The pigeon never had a chance. Hit side-on, the bird 
made just one strangled gobbling noise before the tongue was gone again, too 
fast to follow, and the wide horizontal mouth it came from was closed again. All 
that remained to show that anything had happened was a slight bulge under the 
metallic-looking skin of the fire hydrant. The bulge heaved once and was still. 
Nita bit her lip. Behind her she could feel Kit start shaking again. (I feel 
sorry for the next dog that comes along,) he said. (I hope you dont mind if I 
cross the street.) Kit headed out of the shadow.
(I think Ill join you,) Nita said. She backed out of range of that tongue 
before she started across the street herself
There was no time to move, to scream, even to think. Kit was halfway across the 
street, with his eye on that fire hydrant, his head turned away from the big 
yellow Checker Cab that was maybe six feet away and leaping straight at him.
A flash of brilliance struck Nita like a blow, and did the same for the cab so 
that it curved to its left and knocked Kit sideways and down. The cab roared on 
by, engine racing in frustration, evidently too angry to try for another pass. 
But something about it, maybe the savage sidelong look it threw Nita out of its 
burned-down eyes as it squealed around the corner of Forty-sixth and 
Madisonsomething made Nita suspect that it would not forget them. She ran out 
into the street and bent over Kit, not sure whether she should try to move him.
(All right,) Kit said, groaning softly as he worked at getting up. Nita slipped 
hands under his arms to help. (Fred did it.)
(Are you all right?) came the frantic thought, as Fred appeared in front of 
Kits face. (Did I hurt you, did I emit anything you cant take? I took out all 
the ultraviolet. Oh, no! I forgot the cosmic rays again.)
Kit managed a smile, though not much of one, his face was skinned and bruised 
where one cheekbone had hit the pavement. (Dont worry about it, Fred, that 
thing would have done a lot worse to me than a few cosmic rays if itd hit me 
the way it wanted to.) He stood up, wincing. (It got my leg some, I think.)
Nita bent down to look at Kits left leg and sucked in her breath. His jeans 
were torn, and he had a straight horizontal gash six inches or so below the 
knee, which was bleeding freely. (Does it feel deep?)
(No. It just hurts a lot. I think it was the cabs fender, there was a jagged 
piece sticking out of the chrome. Listen, Fred, thanks)
(Youre sure I didnt hurt you? You people are so fragile. A little gamma 
radiation will ruin your whole day, it seems.)
(Im fine. But Ive gotta do something about this leg. And then weve got to get 
moving again and get to the dark Book.)
Nita looked over at the fire hydrant, fear boiling in her. Casually, as if this 
was something it did many times a day, the hydrant cracked open and spat 
something out onto the sidewalka desiccated-looking little lump of bones and 
feathers. Then it got up and waddled heavily down to a spot about fifty feet 
farther down the block, and sat down again.
And I thought it couldnt all be bad.
Together, as quickly as they could, two small, frightened-looking figures and a 
spark like a lost star hurried into the shadows and vanished there.









6. EntropiesDetection and Avoidance
(How close are we?)
(Uh . . . this is Madison and Forty-ninth. Three blocks north and a long one 
east.)
(Can we rest? This air burns to breathe. And weve been going fast.)
(Yeah, lets.)
They crouched together in the shadow of a doorway, two wary darknesses and a dim 
light, watching the traffic that went by. Mostly cabs prowled past, wearing the 
same hungry look as the one that had wounded Kit. Or a sullen truck might lumber 
by, or a passenger car, looking uneasy and dingy and bitter. None of the cars or 
trucks had drivers, or looked like they wanted them. They ignored the traffic 
lights, and their engines growled.
Nitas eyes burned in the dark air. She rubbed them and glanced down at Kits 
leg, bound now with a torn-off piece of her shirt. (How is it?)
(Not too bad. It feels stiff. I guess it stopped bleeding.) He looked down, felt 
the makeshift bandage, winced. (Yeah . . . Im hungry.)
Nitas stomach turned overshe was too nervous to even consider eatingas Kit 
came up with a ham sandwich and offered her half. (You go ahead,) she said. She 
leaned against the hard cold wall, and on a sudden thought she pulled her pen 
out of her pocket and looked at it. It seemed all right, but as she held it she 
could feel a sort of odd tingling in its metal that hadnt been there before.
(Uh, Fred)
He hung beside her at eye level, making worried feelings that matched the 
dimness of his light, (Are you sure that light didnt hurt you?)
(Yeah. Its not that.) She held out the pen to him. Fred backed away a littleas 
if afraid he might swallow it again. (Is this radioactive or anything?) Nita 
said.
He drifted close to it, bobbed up and down to look at it from several angles. 
(You mean beta and gamma and those other emissions you have trouble with? No.)
Nita still felt suspicious about the pen. She dug into her backpack for a piece 
of scrap paper, laid it on her wizards manual, clicked the point out, and 
scribbled on the paper. Then she breathed out, perplexed. (Come on, Fred! Look 
at that!)
He floated down to look. The pens blue-black ink would normally have been hard 
to see in that dimness, no matter how white the paper. But the scrawl had a 
subtle glimmer about it, a luminosity just bright enough to make out. (I dont 
think its anything harmful to you,) Fred said. (Are you sure it didnt do that 
before?)
(Yes!)
(Well, look at it this way. Now you can see what youre writing when its dark. 
Surprising you people hadnt come up with something like that already.)
Nita shook her head, put the paper away, and clipped the pen back in her pocket. 
Kit, finishing the first half of his sandwich, looked over at the scribble with 
interest. (Comes of being inside Fred, I guess. With him having his own 
claudication, and all the energy boiling around inside him, you might have 
expected something like that to happen.)
(Yeah, well, I dont like it. The pen was fine the way it was.)
(Considering where its been,) Kit said, (youre lucky to get it back in the 
same shape, instead of crushed into a little lump.) He wrapped up the other half 
of his sandwich and shoved it into his backpack. (Should we go?)
(Yeah.)
They got up, checked their surroundings as usual to make sure that no cabs or 
cars were anywhere close, and started up Madison again, ducking into doorways or 
between buildings whenever they saw or heard traffic coming.
(No people,) Kit said, as if trying to work it out. (Just thingsall dark and 
ruinedand machines, all twisted. Alivebut they seem to hate everythingAnd 
pigeons)
(Dogs, too,) Nita said.
(Where?) Kit looked hurriedly around him.
(Check the sidewalk and the gutter. Theyre here. And remember that nest.) Nita 
shrugged uneasily, setting her pack higher. (I dont know. Maybe people just 
cant live here.)
(Were here,) Kit said unhappily. (And maybe not for long.)
A sudden grinding sound like tortured metal made them dive for another shadowy 
doorway close to the corner of Madison and Fiftieth. No traffic was in sight; 
nothing showed but the glowering eye of the traffic light and the unchanging 
dont walk signs. The grinding sound came againmetal scrapping on concrete, 
somewhere across Madison, down Fiftieth, to their left. Kit edged a bit forward 
in the doorway.
(What are you)
(I want to see.) He reached around behind him, taking the antenna in his hand.
(But if)
(If thats something that might chase us later, I at least want a look at it. 
Fred? Take a peek for us?)
(Right.) Fred sailed ahead of them, keeping low and close to the building walls, 
his light dimmed to the faintest glimmer. By the lamppost at Madison and 
Fiftieth he paused, then shot low across the street and down Fiftieth between 
Madison and Fifth, vanishing past the corner. Nita and Kit waited, sweating.
From around the comer Fred radiated feelings of uncertainty and curiosity. 
(These are like the other things that run these streets. But these arent 
moving. Maybe they were dangerous once. I dont know about now.)
(Come on,) Kit said. He put his head out of the doorway. (Its clear.)
With utmost caution they crossed the street and slipped around the corner, 
flattening to the wall. Here stores and dingy four-story brownstones with long 
flights of railed stairs lined the street. Halfway down the block, jagged and 
bizarre in the dimness and the feeble yellow glow of a flickering sodium-vapor 
street light, was the remains of an accident. One car, a heavy two-door sedan, 
lay crumpled against the pole of another nearby street light, its right-hand 
door ripped away and the whole right side of it laid open. A little distance 
away, in the middle of the street, lay the car that had hit the sedan, resting 
on its back and skewed right around so that its front end was pointed at Kit and 
Nita. It was a sports car of some kind, so dark a brown that it was almost 
black. Its windshield had been shattered when it overturned, and it had many 
other dents and scrapes, some quite deep. From its front right wheel jutted a 
long jagged strip of chrome, part of the other cars fender, now wound into the 
sports cars wheel.
(I dont get it,) Nita said silently. (If that dark one hit the other, why isnt 
his front all smashed in)
She broke off as with a terrible metallic groan the sports car suddenly rocked 
back and forth, like a turtle on its back trying to right itself. Kit sucked in 
a long breath and didnt move. The car stopped rocking for a moment, then with 
another scrape of metal started again, rocking more energetically this time. 
Each time the side-to-side motion became larger. It rocked partway onto one 
door, then back the other way and partway onto the other, then back againand 
full onto its left-hand door. There it balanced, precarious, for a few long 
seconds, as if getting its breath. And then twitched and shuddered all the way 
over, and fell right-side down.
The scream that filled the air as the sports car came down on the fender-tangled 
right wheel was terrible to hear. Instantly it hunched up the fouled wheel, 
holding it away from the street, crouching on the three good wheels and shaking 
with its effort. Nita thought of an old sculpture she had seen once, a wounded 
lion favoring one forelimbweary and in pain, but still dangerous.
Very slowly, as if approaching a hurt animal and not wanting to alarm it, Kit 
stepped away from the building and walked out into the street.
(Kit!)
(Ssssh,) he said silently. (Dont freak it.)
(Are you out of your)
(Ssssshhh!)
The sports car watched Kit come, not moving. Now that it was right-side up, Nita 
could get a better idea of its shape. It was actually rather beautiful in its 
deadly looking waysleekly swept-back and slung low to the ground. Its curves 
were battered in places; its once-shining hide was scored and dull. It stared at 
Kit from hunters eyes, headlights wide with pain, and breathed shallowly, 
waiting.
(Lotus Esprit,) Kit said to Nita, not taking his eyes off the car, matching it 
stare for stare.
Nita shook her head anxiously. (Does that mean something? I dont know cars.)
(Its a racer. A mean one. What it is hereLook, Nita, theres your answer. Look 
at the front of it, under the headlights.) He kept moving forward, his hands out 
in front of him. The Lotus held perfectly still, watching.
Nita looked at the low-sloping grille. (Its all full of oil or something.)
(Its a predator. These other cars, like that sedanthey must be what it hunts. 
This time its prey hurt the Lotus before it made its kill. Like a tiger getting 
gored by a bull or something. Ooops!)
Kit, eight or ten feet away from the Lotuss grille, took one step too many; it 
abruptly rolled back away from him a foot or so. Very quietly its engine 
stuttered to life and settled into a throaty growl.
(Kit, youre)
(Shut up,) I wont hurt you, he said in the Speech, aloud. Let me see to that 
wheel.
The engine-growl got louderthe sound of the Speech seemed to upset the Lotus. 
It rolled back another couple of feet, getting close to the curb, and glared at 
Kit. But the glare seemed to have as much fear as threat in it now
I wont hurt you, Kit repeated, stepping closer, holding out his handsone of 
them with the antenna in it. Come on, you know what this is. Let me do 
something about that wheel. You cant run on it. And if you cant run . . . 
I bet there are other hunters here, arent there? Or scavengers. Im sure there 
are scavengers. Who ll be coming here to clean up this kill? And do you want 
them to find you here, helpless?
The Lotus stared at him, shifting a little from side to side, now, swaying 
uncertainly. The growl had not stopped, but it hadnt gotten any louder either. 
If I were going to hurt you, I would have by now, Kit said, getting closer. 
The car was four feet away, and its headlights were having to look up at Kit 
now. Just let me do something about that fender stuck in you, then youll go 
your way and Ill go mine.
The dark eyes stared at the antenna, then at Kit, and back at the antenna again. 
The Lotus stopped swaying, held very still. Kit was two feet away. He reached 
out with his free hand, very slowly, reached down to touch the scratched 
fiberglass hide
The engine raced, a sudden startling roar that made Nita stifle a scream and 
made Kit flinch all overbut he didnt jump away, and neither did the Lotus. For 
a second or two he and the car stood there just looking at each othersmall 
trembling boy, large trembling predator. Then Kit laid his hand carefully on the 
brown hide, a gingerly gesture. The car shook all over, stared at him. Its 
engine quieted to an uncertain rumbling.
Its okay, he said. Will you let me take care of it?
The Lotus muttered deep under its hood. It still stared at Kit with those 
fearsome eyes, but its expression was mostly perplexed now. So was Kits. He 
rubbed the curve of the hurt wheelwell in distress. (I cant understand why its 
mute,) he said unhappily, (The Edsel wasnt. All it took was a couple of 
sentences in the Speech and it was talking.)
(Its bound,} Nita said, edging out of the shadow of the building she stood 
against. (Cant you feel it, Kit? Theres some kind of huge binding spell laid 
over this whole place to keep it the way it is.)
She stopped short as the Lotus saw her and began to growl again. Relax, Kit 
said. Shes with me, she wont hurt you either.
Slowly the growl dwindled, but the feral headlight-eyes stayed on Nita. She 
gulped and sat down on the curb, where she could see up and down the street. 
Kit, do what youre going to do. If another of those cabs comes along
Right. Fred, give me a hand? No, no, no, he said hastily, as Fred drifted down 
beside him and made a light-pattern and a sound as if he was going to emit 
something. Not that kind. Just make some light so I can see what to do down 
here.
Kit knelt beside the right wheel, studying the damage, and Fred floated in so to 
lend his light to the business, while the Lotus watched the process 
suspiciously. Mmmfffnothing too bad, its mostly wrapped around the tire. 
Lucky it didnt get fouled with the axle.
Come on, come on, Kit said in the Speech, patting the bottom of the tire, 
relax it, loosen up. Youre forcing the scrap into yourself, holding the wheel 
up like that. Come on. The Lotus moaned softly and with fearful care relaxed 
the uplifted wheel a bit. Thats better. Kit slipped the antenna up under the 
Lotuss wheelwell, aiming for some piece of chrome that was out of sight. Fred, 
can you get in there so I can see? Good. Okay, this may sting a little. Molten 
light, half-seen, sparked under the Lotuss fender. It jumped, and an uneven 
half-circle-shaped piece of chrome fell clanging onto the pavement. Now hunch 
the wheel up again. A little higher Kit reached in with both hands and, after 
a moments tugging and twisting, freed the other half of the piece of metal. 
There, Kit said, satisfied. He tossed the second piece of scrap to the ground.
The engine roared again with terrible suddenness, deafening. This time Kit 
scrambled frantically backward as the Lotus leaped snarling away from him. With 
a screech of tires it swept so close past Nita that she fell over backward onto 
the sidewalk. Its engine screaming, the Lotus tore away down Fiftieth toward 
Madison, flung itself left around the corner in a cloud of blue exhaust, and was 
gone.
Very slowly Kit stood up, pushed the antenna into his pants pocket, and stood in 
the street dusting his hands off on his shirt as he gazed in disappointment 
after the Lotus. Nita sat herself back up again, shaking her head and brushing 
at herself. (I thought maybe it was going to stay long enough to thank you,) she 
said.
Kit shook his head, evidently in annoyance at himself for having thought the 
same thing, (Well, I dont knowI was thinking of what Picchu said. Dont be 
afraid to help.) He shrugged. (Doesnt really matter, I guess. It was hurting; 
fixing it was the right thing to do.)
(I hope so,) Nita said. (Id hate to think the grateful creature might run off 
toyou knowand tell everybody about the people who helped it instead of hurting 
it. I have a feeling that doing good deeds sticks out more than usual around 
here.)
Kit nodded, looking uncomfortable. (Maybe I shouldve left well enough alone.)
(Dont be dumb. Lets get going, huh? The . . . whatever the place is where the 
dark Books kept, its pretty close. I feel nervous standing out here.)
They recrossed Madison and again started the weary progression from doorway to 
driveway to shadowed wall, heading north.
At Madison and Fifty-second, Nita turned right and paused. (Its on this block 
somewhere,) she said, trying to keep even the thought quiet. (The north side, I 
think. Fred, you feel anything?)
Fred held still for a moment, not even making a flicker, (The darkness feels 
thicker up ahead, at the middle of the block.)
Kit and Nita peered down the block. (It doesnt look any different,) Kit said. 
(But youre the expert on light, Fred. Lead the way.)
With even greater care than usual they picked their way down Fifty-second. This 
street was stores and office buildings again; all the store windows empty, all 
the windows dark. But here, though external appearances were no different, the 
feeling slowly began to grow that there was a reason for the grimy darkness of 
the windows. Something watched, something peered out those windows, using the 
darkness as a cloak, and no shadow was deep enough to hide in; the silent eyes 
would see. Nothing happened, nothing stirred anywhere. No traffic was in sight. 
But the street felt more and more like a trap, laid open for some unsuspecting 
creature to walk into. Nita tried to swallow as they ducked from one hiding 
place to another, but her mouth was too dry. Kit was sweating. Freds light was 
out.
(This is it,) he said suddenly, his thought sounding unusually muted even for 
Fred. (This is the middle of the darkness.)
(This?) Kit and Nita thought at the same time, in shock, and then simultaneously 
hushed themselves. Nita edged out to the sidewalk to get a better look at the 
place. She had to crane her neck. They were in front of a skyscraper, faced 
completely in black plate glass, an ominous, windowless monolith.
(Must be about ninety stories,) Nita said. (I dont see any lights.)
(Why would you?) Fred said. (Whoever lives in this place doesnt seem fond of 
light at all. How shall we go in?)
Nita glanced back up the street. (We passed a driveway that might go down to a 
delivery entrance.)
(Ill talk to the lock,) Kit said. (Lets go!)
They went back the way they had come and tiptoed down the driveway. It seemed 
meant for trucks to back into. A flight of steps at one side led up to a loading 
platform about four feet above the deepest part of the ramp. Climbing the 
stairs, Kit went to a door on the right and ran his hands over it as Nita and 
Fred came up behind. (No lock,) Kit said. (Its controlled from inside.)
(We cant get in? Were dead.)
(Were not dead yet. Theres a machine in there that makes the garage doors go 
up. Thats all I need.) Kit got out the antenna and held it against the door as 
he might have held a pencil he was about to write with. He closed his eyes. (If 
I can just feel up through the metal and the wires, find it . . . )
Nita and Fred kept still while Kits eyes squeezed tighter and tighter shut in 
fierce concentration. Inside one garage door something rattled, fell silent, 
rattled again, began to grind. Little by little the door rose until there was an 
opening at the bottom of it, three feet high. Kit opened his eyes but kept the 
antenna pressed against the metal. (Go on in.)
Fred and Nita ducked through into darkness. Kit came swiftly after them. Behind 
him, the door began to move slowly downward again, shutting with a thunderous 
clang. Nita pulled out the rowan wand, so they could look around. There were 
wooden loading pallets stacked on the floor, but nothing elsebare concrete 
walls, bare ceiling. Set in the back wall of the huge room was one normal-sized 
double door.
(Lets see if this one has a lock,) Kit said as they went quietly up to it. He 
touched the right-hand knob carefully, whispered a word or two in the Speech, 
tried it. The right side of the double door opened.
(Huh. Wasnt even locked!) Through the open door, much to everyones surprise, 
light spilledplain old fluorescent office-building light, but cheery as a sunny 
day after the gloom outdoors. On the other side of the door was a perfectly 
normal-looking corridor with beige walls and charcoal-color doors and carpeting. 
The normality came as something of a shock. (Fred, I thought you said it was 
darker here!)
(Felt darker, And colder. And it does,) Fred said, shivering, his faint light 
rippling as he did so. (Were very close to the source of the coldness. Its 
farther up, though.)
(Up?) Nita looked at Kit uneasily. (If were going to get the dark Book and get 
out of here fast, we cant fool with stairs again. Well have to use the 
elevators somehow.)
Kit glanced down at the antenna. (I think I can manage an elevator if it gets 
difficult. Lets find one.)
They slipped through the door and went down the hall to their right, heading for 
a lobby at its far end. There they peered out at a bank of elevators set in the 
same dark-green marble as the rest of the lobby. No one was there.
Kit walked to the elevators, punched the call button, and hurriedly mentioned 
Nita and Fred to join him. Nita stayed where she was for a moment (Shouldnt we 
stay out of sight here?)
(Come on!)
She went out to him, Fred bobbing along beside. Kit watched the elevator lights 
to see which one was coming down and then slipped into a recess at the side. 
Nita took the hint and joined him. The elevator bell chimed; doors slid open
The perytons piled out of the middle elevator in a hurry, five of them together, 
not looking to left or right, and burst out the front door into the street. Once 
outside they began their awful chorus of howls and snarls, but Nita and Kit and 
Fred werent sitting around to listen. They dove into the middle elevator, and 
Kit struck the control panel with the antenna, hard. Close up and take off!
The elevator doors closed, but then a rumbling, scraping, gear-grinding screech 
beganlow at first, then louder, a combination of every weird, unsettling noise 
Nita had ever heard an elevator make. Cables twanged and ratchets ratcheted, 
and, had they been moving, she would have sworn they were about to go plunging 
down to crash in the cellar.
Cut it out or Ill snap your cables myself when Im through with you! Kit 
yelled in the Speech. Almost immediately the elevator jerked slightly and then 
started upward.
Nita tried again to swallow and had no better luck than the last time. Those 
perytons are going to pick up our scent right outside that door, Kit! And 
theyll track us inside, and it wont be five minutes before
I know, I know. Fred, how well can you feel the middle of the darkness?
(Were closer.)
Good. Youll have to tell me when to stop.
The elevator went all the way up to the top, the eighty-ninth floor, before Fred 
said, (This is it!)
Kit rapped the control panel one last time with his antenna. You stay where you 
are, he said.
The elevator doors opened silently to reveal another normal-looking floor, this 
one more opulent than the floor downstairs. Here the carpets were ivory-white 
and thick; the wall opposite the elevators was one huge bookcase of polished 
wood, filled with hundreds of books, like volumes of one huge set. Going left 
they came to another hallway, stretching off to their left like the long stroke 
of an L; this one too was lined with bookcases. At the far end stood a huge 
polished desk, with papers and Dictaphone equipment and an intercom and a 
multiline phone jumbled about on it. At the desk satit was hard to know what to 
call it. Kit and Nita, peering around the corner, were silent with confusion and 
fear. The thing sitting in a secretarys swivel chair and typing on an expensive 
electric typewriter was dark green and warty, and sat about four feet high in 
the chairIt had limbs with tentacles and claws, all knotted together under a 
big eggplant-shaped head, and goggly, wicked eyes. All the limbs didnt seem to 
help the creatures typing much, for every few seconds it made a mistake and 
went grumbling and fumbling over the top of its messy desk for a bottle of 
correcting fluid. The creatures grumbling was of more interest than its typing. 
It used the Speech, but haltingly, as if it didnt care much for the 
languageand indeed the smooth, stately rhythms of the wizardly tongue suffered 
somewhat, coming out of that misshapen mouth.
Kit leaned back against the wall. (Weve gotta do something. Fred, are you sure 
its up here?)
(Absolutely. And past that door, behind that) Fred indicated the warty typist. 
From down the hall came another brief burst of typing, then more grumbling and 
scrabbling on the desk.
(Weve got to get it away from there.) Nita glanced at Fred.
(I shall create a diversion,) Fred said, with relish. (Ive been good at it so 
far.)
(Great. Something big. Something alive again, if you can manage itthen again, 
forget that.) Nita breathed out unhappily. (I wouldnt leave anything alive 
here.)
(Not even Joanne?) Kit said with a small but evil grin.
(Not even her. This place has her outclassed. Fred, just)
A voice spoke, sounding so loud that Kit and Nita stopped breathing, practically 
stopped thinking. Akthanath, it called, a male voice, sounding weary and 
hassled and bored, come in here a moment . . . 
Nita glanced at Kit. They carefully peeked down the hall once more and saw the 
tentacled thing hunch itself up, drop to the floor behind the desk, and wobble 
its way into the inner office,
(Now?) Fred said.
(No, save it! But come on, this is our best chance!) Nita followed Kit down the 
hall to the door, crouched by it, and looked in. Past it was another room. They 
slipped into it and found themselves facing a partly open door that led to the 
office the typist had gone into. Through the slit they could just see the 
tentacly creatures back and could hear the voice of the man talking to it. 
Hold all my calls for the next hour or so, until they get this thing cleared 
up. I dont want everybodys half-baked ideas of whats going on. Let Garm and 
his people handle it. And here, get Mike on the phone for me. I want to see if I 
can get something useful out of him.
Nita looked around, trying not even to think loudly. The room they were in was 
lined with shelves and shelves of heavy, dark, leatherpound books with 
gold-stamped spines. Kit tiptoed to one bookshelf, pulled out a volume at 
random, and opened it. His face registered shock; he held out the book for Nita 
to look at. The print was the same as that in Carls large Advisory manual, line 
after line of the clear graceful symbols of the Speechbut whatever was being 
discussed on the page Nita looked at was so complicated she could only 
understand one word out of every ten or twenty. She glanced at Kit as he turned 
back to the front of the book and showed her the title.
UNIVERSES, PARAUNIVERSES AND PLANESASSEMBLY AND MAINTENANCE, it said. a 
creators manual. And underneath, in smaller letters, Volume 108Natural and 
Supernatural Laws.
Nita gulped. Beside her, Fred was dancing about in the air in great agitation. 
(What is it?) she asked him.
(Its in here.)
(Where?) Kit said.
(One of those. I cant tell which, its so dark down that end of the room.) Fred 
indicated a bookcase on the farthest wall. (Its worst over there.) Nita stopped 
dead when she saw the rooms second door, which gave on the inner office and was 
wide open.
Nita got ready to scoot past the door. The man who sat at the desk in the 
elegant office had his back to it and was staring out the window into the 
dimness. His warty secretary handed him the phone, and he swiveled around in the 
high-backed chair to take it, showing himself in profile. Nita stared at him, 
confused, as he picked up the phone. A businessman, young, maybe thirty, and 
very handsomered-gold hair and a clean-lined face above a trim, dark 
three-piece suit. This was the Witherer, the Kindler of Wildfires, the one who 
decreed darkness, the Starsnuffer?
Hi, Michael, he said. He had a pleasant voice, warm and deep. Oh, nothing 
much
(Never mind him,) Kit said. (Weve got to get that Book.)
(We cant go past the door till he turns around.)
the answer to that is pretty obvious, Mike. I cant do a bloody thing with 
this place unless I can get some more power for it. I cant afford street 
lights, I can barely afford a little electricity, much less a star. The entropy 
rating
The young man swiveled in his chair again, leaning back and looking out the 
window. Nita realized with a chill that he had a superb view of the downtown 
skyline, including the top of the Pan Am Building, where even now wisps of smoke 
curled black against the lowering gray. She tapped Kit on the elbow, and 
together they slipped past the doorway to the bookshelf.
(Fred, do you have even a little idea)
(Maybe one of those up there.) He indicated a shelf just within reach. Kit and 
Nita started taking down one book after another, looking at them. Nita was 
shakingshe had no clear idea what they were looking for.
(What if its one of those up there, out of reach?)
(Youll stand on my shoulders. Kit, hurry!)
Michael, dont you think you could talk to the rest of Them and get me just a 
little more energy?Well, Theyve never given me what I asked for, have They? 
All I wanted was my own Universe where everything worksWhich brings me to the 
reason for this call. Whos this new operative you turned loose in here? This 
Universe is at a very delicate stage, interference will
They were down to the second-to-last shelf, and none of the books had what they 
were looking for. Nita was sweating worse. (Fred, are you sure)
(Its dark there, its all dark. What do you want from me?)
Kit, kneeling by the bottom shelf, suddenly jumped as if shocked. (Huh?) Nita 
said.
(It stung me. Nita!) Kit grabbed at the volume his hand had brushed, yanked it 
out of the case, and knelt there, juggling it like a hot potato. He managed to 
get it open and held it out, showing Nita not the usual clean page, 
close-printed with the fine small symbols of the Speech, but a block of 
transparency like many pages of thinnest glass laid together. Beneath the smooth 
surface, characters and symbols seethed as if boiling up from a great depth and 
sinking down again.
Nita found herself squinting. (It hurts to look at.)
(It hurts to hold!) Kit shut the book hurriedly and held it out to Fred for him 
to check, for externally it looked no different from any other book there. (Is 
this what were looking for?)
Freds faint glimmer went out like a blown candle flame with the nearness of the 
book. (The darknessit blinds)
Kit bundled the book into his backpack and rubbed his hands on his jacket. (Now 
if we can just get out of here . . . )
oh, come on, Mike, the voice was saying in the other office. Dont get cute 
with me. I had an incident on top of one of my buildings. One of my favorite 
constructs got shot up and the site stinks of wizardry. Your brand, moonlight 
and Moon-forged metal. The voice of the handsome young man in the three-piece 
suit was still pleasant enough, but Nita, peering around the edge of the door, 
saw his face going hard and sharp as the edge of a knife. He swiveled around in 
his chair again to look out the window at that thin plume of ascending smoke, 
and Nita waved Kit past the door, then scuttled after him herself. thats a 
dumb question to be asking me, Michael. If I knew, would I tell you where the 
bright Book was? And how likely is it that I know at all? You people keep such 
close tabs on it, at least thats what I hear. Anyway, if its not read from 
every so often, dont I go ffft! like everything else?Youre absolutely right, 
thats not a responsive answer. Why should I be responsive, youre not being 
very helpful
Kit and Nita peeked back into the hall. Fred floated up to hang between them. (I 
get a feeling) Kit started to say, but the sudden coldness in the voice of the 
man on the phone silenced him.
Look, Mike, Ive had about enough of this silliness. The Bright Powers got 
miffed because I wanted to work on projects of my own instead of 
following-the-leader like you do, working from Their blueprints instead of 
drawing up your own. You can do what you please, but I thought when I settled 
down in this little pittance of a Universe that They would let me be and let me 
do things my way. They said They didnt need me when They threw me outwell, 
Ive done pretty well without Them too. Maybe They dont like that, because now 
all of a sudden Im getting interference. You say this operative isnt one of 
your sweetness-and-Light types? Fine. Then you wont mind if when I catch him, 
her, or it, I make his stay interesting and permanent. Whoevers disrupting my 
status quo will wish hed never been born, spawned, or engendered. And when you 
see the rest of Them, you tell Them from me thathello? Hello?
The phone slammed down. There was no sound for a few seconds. Akthanath, the 
young mans voice finally said into the silence, someones soul is going to 
writhe for this.
The slow cold of the words got into Nitas spine. She and Kit slipped around the 
door and ran for it, down the hall and into the elevator. hes playing it 
close to the chest, that angry voice floated down the hall to them. I dont 
know whats going on. The Eldest still has it safe?Good, then see that guards 
are mounted at the usual accesses. And have Garm send a pack of his people back 
in time to the most recent gate opening. I want to know which universe these 
agents are coming from.
In the elevator, Kit whipped out the antenna and rapped the control panel with 
it. Down!
Doors closed, and down it went, Nita leaned back against one wall of the 
elevator, panting. Now she knew why that first crowd of perytons had come 
howling after them on top of the Pan Am Building, but the solution of that small 
mystery made her feel no better at all. Kit, theyll be waiting downstairs, for 
sure.
He bit his lip. Yeah. Well, we wont be where they think well be, thats all. 
If we get off a couple of floors too high and take the stairs
Right.
Stop at Four, Kit said to the elevator.
The elevator stopped, opened its doors. Kit headed out the door fast and 
trippedthe elevator had stopped several inches beneath the fourth floor. Watch 
your step, the elevator said, snickering.
Kit turned and smacked the open elevator door with his antenna as Nita and Fred 
got out. Very funny. You stay here until I give the word. Cmon, lets get out 
of here!
They ran down the hall together, found the stairs, and plunged down them. Kit 
was panting as hard as Nita now. Fred shot down past landing after Ending with 
them, his light flickering as if it were an effort to keep up. Kit, Nita said, 
where are we going to go after we leave this building? We need time, and a 
place to do the spell to find the bright Book.
Kit sounded unhappy. I dunno, How about Central Park? If we hid in there
But you saw what it looks like from the top of Pan Am. Its all dark in 
therethere were things moving
Theres a lot of room to hide. Look, Nita, if I can handle the machines here, 
its a good bet you can handle the plants. Youre good with plants and live 
stuff, you said.
She nodded reluctantly. I guess well find out how good.
They came to the last landing, the ground door. Nita pushed the door open a 
crack and found that they were almost directly across from the green lobby and 
the elevators.
(Whats the situation?) Kit said silently.
(Theyre waiting.) Six perytons, black-coated, brown-coated, one a steely gray, 
were sitting or standing around the middle elevator with their tongues hanging 
out and looks of anticipation and hunger in their too-human eyes.
(Now?) Fred said, sounding eager.
(Not yet. We may not need a diversion, Fred.) Go! he whispered then in the 
Speech. The antenna in his hand sparked and sputtered with molten light, and Kit 
pressed close behind Nita. (Watch them!)
There was no bell, but even if there had been one, the sound of it and of the 
elevator doors opening would have been drowned out in snarls as the perytons 
leaped in a body into the elevator. The moment the perytons were out of sight, 
Nita pushed the door open and headed for the one to the garage. It stuck and 
stung her as the dark Book had; she jerked her hand away from it. Kit came up 
behind her and blasted it with the antenna, then grabbed it himself. This time 
it came open. They dashed through and Kit sealed the door behind them.
No one was in the garage, but a feeling was growing in the air as if the storm 
of rage theyd heard beginning upstairs was about to break over their heads. Kit 
raised the antenna again, firing a line of hot light that zapped the 
ceiling-mounted controls of the delivery door. With excruciating slowness the 
door began to rumble upward. (Now?) Fred said anxiously as they ran toward it.
(No, not yet, just)
They bent over double, ducked underneath the opening door, and ran up the 
driveway. It was then that the perytons leaped at them from both sides howling, 
and Nita grabbed for her wand and managed one slash with it, yelling, Now, 
Fred! Now.
All she saw clearly was the peryton that jumped at her, a huge, blue-eyed, 
brindled she-wolf, as the rowan wand spat silver moonfire and the peryton ran 
away screaming. Then came the explosion, and it hurled both her and Kit 
staggering off to their right. The street shook as if lightning-struck, and part 
of the front of the dark building was demolished in a shower of shattered plate 
glass as tons and tons and tons of red bricks came crashing down from somewhere 
to fill the street from side to side, burying sidewalks and peryton and doors 
and the delivery bay twenty feet deep.
Nita picked herself up. A few feet away, Kit was doing the same, and bobbed over 
to them as an ominous stillness settled over everything. (How was I?) Fred said, 
seeming dazed but pleased.
Are you all right? Kit said.
(Im alive, but my gnaester will never be the same,) Fred said. (You two?)
Were fine, Kit said.
And I think were in trouble, Nita added, looking at the blocked street. 
Lets get going!
They ran toward Fifth Avenue, and the shadows took them.









7. Contractual MagicAn Introduction
A four-foot-high wall ran down the west side of Fifth Avenue, next to a sidewalk 
of gray hexagonal paving-stones. Nita and Kit crouched behind it, just inside 
Central Park, under the shadows of barren-branched trees, and tried to catch 
their breath. Fred hung above them, watching both Fifth Avenue and Sixty-fourth 
Street for signs of pursuit.
Nita leaned against the dirty wall, careless of grime or roughness or the pigeon 
droppings that streaked it. She was scared. All through her life, the one thing 
she knew she could always depend on was her energyit never gave out. Even after 
being beaten up, she always sprang right back. But here and now, when she could 
less afford exhaustion than she had ever been able to in her life, she felt it 
creeping up on her. She was even afraid to rest, for fear it would catch up with 
her quicker. But her lungs were burning, and it felt so good to sit still, not 
have death or something worse chasing her. And there was another spell to be 
cast . . . 
If Id known I was going to get into a situation like this, she thought, would I 
ever have picked that book up at all? Would I have taken the Oath? Then she 
shook her head and tried to think about something else, for she got an inkling 
of the answer, and it shocked her. She had always been told that she wasnt 
brave. At least thats what Joanne and her friends had always said: Cant take a 
dare, cant take a joke, crybaby, crybaby. We were only teasing . . . 
She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, which stung. Did you find the spell? she 
said.
Kit had been paging through his wizards manual. Now he was running a finger 
down one page, occasionally whispering a word, then stopping himself to keep 
from using the Speech aloud. Yeah. Its pretty simple. But he was frowning.
Whats the matter?
Kit slumped back against the wall, looked over at her. I keep thinking about 
whatyou-know-whowas talking about on the phone.
Sounded like he was hiding something.
Uh hah. They know where the bright Book is, all right. And somebodys watching 
it. Whoever the Eldest is. And now therere going to be more guards around 
it.
The usual accesses, he said. Kit, there might be an unusual access, then.
Sure. If we had any idea where the thing was hidden.
Wont the spell give us a vision, a location, like the last one?
No. Its a directional. Kit dropped his hands wearily on the book in his lap, 
sighed, looked over at Nita. I dont know . . . I just dont get it.
What? She rolled the rowan wand between her hands, watching the way its light 
shone between her fingers and through the skin.
He didnt look evil. Or sound that way, at least not till right at the end 
there.
(The Snuffer was always glorious to look at before it scorned the light,) Fred 
said. (And it kept the beauty afterwardthats what the stars always used to 
say. Thats one reason its dangerous to deal with that one. The beauty . . . 
seduces.) Fred made a small feeling of awe and fear. (What a blaze of darkness, 
what a flood of emissions. I was having a hard time keeping my composure in 
there.)
Are you all right now?
(Oh, yes. I was a little amazed that you didnt perceive the power burning 
around the shell he was wearing. Just as wellyou might have spoken to him, and 
everything would have been lost. That ones most terrible power, they say, is 
his absolute conviction that hes right in what he does.)
Hes not right, then? Kit said.
(I dont know.)
But, Nita said, confused, if hes fighting with . . . with Them . . . with 
the ones who made the bright Book, isnt he in the wrong?
(I dont know,) Fred said again. (How am I supposed to judge? But youre 
wizards, you should know how terrible a power belief is, especially in the wrong 
handsand how do you tell which hands are wrong? Believe something and the 
Universe is on its way to being changed. Because youve changed, by believing. 
Once youve changed, other things start to follow. Isnt that the way it works?)
Nita nodded as Fred looked across the dark expanse of Central Park. The branches 
of trees were knitted together in tangled patterns of strife. Ivy tangled what 
it climbed. Paths were full of pitfalls, copses clutched themselves full of 
threat and darkness. Shadows moved secretively through shadows, making unnerving 
noises. (This is whathebelieves in,) Fred said sadly, (however he justifies 
the belief.)
Nita could find nothing to say. The wordless misery of the trees had been 
wearing at her ever since she set foot inside the wall. All the growing things 
there longed for light, though none of them knew what it was; she could feel 
their starved rage moving sluggishly in them, slow as sap in the cold. Only in 
one place was their anger mutedseveral blocks south, at Fifth and Central Park 
South, where in her own New York the equestrian statue of General Sherman and 
the Winged Victory had stood. Here the triumphant rider cast in black bronze was 
that handsome young man they had seen in the black glass building, his face set 
in a cold proud conquerors smile. The creature he rode was a skull-faced 
eight-legged steed, which the wizards manual said brought death with the sound 
of its hooves. And Victory with her palm branch was changed to a grinning Fury 
who held a dripping sword. Around the statue group the trees were silent, not 
daring to express even inarticulate feelings. They knew their master too well.
Nita shook her head and glanced at Kit, who was looking in the same direction. 
I thought itd be fun to know the Masons Word and run around bringing statues 
to life, he said unhappily, but somehow I dont think theres any statue here 
Id want to use the Word on . . . You ready? We should start this.
Yeah.
The spell was brief and straightforward, and Nita turned to the right page in 
her manual and drew the necessary circle and diagram. Kit got the dark Book out 
of his backpack and dropped it in the middle of the circle. Nita held up her 
wand for light. They began to recite the spell.
It was only three sentences long, but by the end of the first sentence Nita 
could feel the trees bending in close to watchnot with friendly, secretive 
interest, as in her first spell with Kit, but in hungry desperation. Even the 
abstract symbols and words of the Speech must have tasted of another Universe 
where light was not only permitted, but free. The rowan wand was blazing by the 
end of the second sentence, maybe in reaction to being so close to something of 
the dark powers, and Nita wondered whether she should cover it up to keep them 
from being noticed. But the spell held her immobile as usual. For another thing, 
the trees all around were leaning in and in with such piteous feelings of hunger 
that she would as soon have eaten in front of starving children and not offered 
them some of what she had. Branches began to toss and twist, reaching down for a 
taste of the light, and Kit finished the spell.
Kit reached right down to pick up the dark Book, which was as well, as 
immediately after the last word of the spell was spoken it actually lifted 
itself a little way along the ground, southward. Kit could only hold it for a 
moment before stuffing it back into his backpack. It no longer looked innocent. 
It burned, both to touch and to look at. Even when Kit had it hidden away and 
the backpack slung on, neither of them felt any easier. It was as if they were 
all now visible to something that was looking eagerly for them.
Lets get out of here, Kit said, so subdued that Nita could hardly hear 
himNita stood and laid a hand against the trunk of the nearest tree, a 
consoling gesture. She was sorry she couldnt have left them more light. (I wish 
there was something I could do,) she said silently. But no answer came back. 
These trees were bound silent, like the car Kit had tended.
She rejoined Kit, who was looking over the wall. Nothing, he said. Together 
they swung over the dropping-streaked stone and hurried down Fifth Avenue, 
crossing the street to get a safe distance between them and the strange cries 
and half-seen movements of the park. Straight south? Nita said.
Pretty nearly. Its pushing straight that way on my back. The bright Book 
looked like it was way downtown, didnt it, in that spell?
Uh huh. The financial district, I think. She gulped. It was a long way to 
walkmileseven without having to worry about someone chasing you.
Well, wed better hurry, Kit said. He paused while they both stopped at the 
corner of Fifth and Sixty-first. When they were across, he added, What gets me 
is that hes so sure that were interference from the bright side. We havent 
done anything yet.
Huh, Nita said, gently scornful. Sure we havent. And anyway, whaddaya mean 
we arent interference from the bright side? You were the one who said wed 
been had.
Kit mulled this over as they approached Sixtieth. Well . . . maybe. If they 
know about us, do you think theyll send help?
I dont know. I get the feeling that maybe we are the help.
Well, were not dead yet! Kit said, and peered around the corner of Sixtieth 
and Fifthand then jumped back, pale with shock. Were dead, he said, turned 
around, and began running back the way they had come, though he limped doing it. 
Nita looked around that corner just long enough to see what he had seena whole 
pack of big yellow cabs, thundering down Sixtieth. The one in front had a 
twisted fender that stuck out slightly on one slate, a jagged piece of metal. 
She turned and ran after Kit, frantic. Where can we hide?
The buildings are locked here too, Kit said from up ahead. He had been trying 
doors. Fred, can you do something?
(After that last emission? So soon?) Freds thought was shaken. (Its all I can 
do to radiate light. I need time to recover.)
Crud! Kit, the park, maybe the treesll slow them down.
They both ran for the curb, but there was no time. Cabs came roaring around the 
corner from Sixtieth, and another pack of them leaped around the corner of 
Sixty-first and hurtled down Fifth toward them; they would never make it across 
the street.
Kit grabbed for his antenna, and Nita yanked out the wand, but without much 
hopeit hadnt worked that well on the helicopter. The cabs slowed closed in 
from both sides, forming a half-circle with Kit and Nita and Fred at the center, 
backing them against the wall of a dingy building. The cordon tightened until 
there were no gaps, and one cab at each side was up on the sidewalk, blocking 
it. No matter where Nita looked, all she saw were chromed grilles like gritted 
teeth, hungry headlights staring. One of the cabs shouldered forward, its engine 
snarling softly. The jagged place at one end of its front fender wore a brown 
discoloration. Not rustKits blood, which it had tasted. Kit lifted the 
antenna, the hand that gripped it shaking.
The high-pitched yowl of rage and defiance from outside the circle jerked Kits 
head up. Nita stared. Fenders scraped and rattled against one another as the 
tight-wedged cabs jostled, trying to see what was happening. Even the 
bloodstained cab, the pack leader, looked away from Kit. But none of them could 
move any way but backward, and one cab paid immediately for that limitation as a 
fanged grille bit deep into its hindquarters and dragged it screaming out of the 
circle. Metal screeched and tore, glass shattered as the Lotus Esprits jaws 
crushed through the cabs trunk, ripped away its rear axle, and with a quick 
sideways shake of its front end flung the bitten-off axle crashing down Fifth 
Avenue. Then the Lotus slashed sideways, its fangs opening up the side of 
another cab like a can opener. The circle broke amid enraged roaring; cabs 
circled and feinted while the first victim dragged itself away by its front 
wheels to collapse in the street.
Everything started happening at once. Nita slashed at the front of the cab 
closest to her. The whip of moonfire cracking across its face seemed to confuse 
and frighten it, but did no damage. I hope it doesnt notice that right away, 
she thought desperately, for there was no use yelling for help. Kit had his 
hands full. He had the antenna laid over his forearm again and was snapping off 
shot after shot of blinding-hot light, cracking headlights, burning holes in 
hoods and exploding tires, a hit here, a hit therenothing fatal, Nita noticed 
with dismay. But Kit was managing to hold the cabs at their distance as they 
harried him.
Out in the street one cab lunged at the Lotus, a leap, its front wheels clear of 
the ground and meant to come crashing down on the racers hooduntil suddenly 
the Lotuss nose dipped under the cab and heaved upward, sending the cab rolling 
helplessly onto its back. A second later the Lotus came down on top of the cab, 
took a great shark-bite out of its underbelly, and then whirled around, whipping 
gas and transmission fluid all over, to slash at another cab about to leap on it 
from behind. This was the king cab, the pack leader, and as the Lotus and the 
Checker circled one another warily in the street, the other cabs drew away from 
Kit and Nita to watch the outcome of the combat.
There were two more cabs dead in the street that Nita hadnt seen fallone with 
everything from right rear door to right front fender torn away, another 
horribly mangled in its front end and smashed sideways into a tree on the other 
side of Fifth, as if it had been thrown there. Amid the wreckage of these and 
the other two cabs, the cab and the Lotus rolled, turning and backing, 
maneuvering for an opening that would end in a kill. The Lotus was scored along 
one side but otherwise unhurt, and the whining roar of its engine sounded hungry 
and pleased. Infuriated, the Checker made a couple of quick rushes at it, 
stopping short with a screech of tires and backing away again each time in a way 
that indicated it didnt want to close in. The Lotus snarled derisively, and 
without warning the Checker swerved around and threw itself full speed at Kit 
and Nita, still braced against the wall.
This is it, Nita thought with curious calm. She flung up the rowan wand in one 
last useless slash and then was thrown back against the wall with terrible force 
as a thunderstorm of screaming metal flew from right to left in front of her and 
crashed not five feet away. She slid down the wall limp as a rag doll, stunned, 
aware that death had gone right past her face. When her eyes and ears started 
working again, the Lotus was standing off to her left, its back scornfully 
turned to the demolished pack leader, which it had slammed into the wall. The 
Checker looked like the remains of a front-end collision testit was crumpled up 
into itself like an accordion, and bleeding oil and gas in pools. The Lotus 
roared triumphant disdain at the remaining two cabs, then threatened them with a 
small mean rush. They turned tail and ran a short distance, then slowed down and 
slunk away around the corner of Sixty-first. Satisfied, the Lotus bent over the 
broken body of one dead cab, reached down, and with casual fierceness plucked 
away some of the front fender, as a falcon plucks its kill before eating.
Nita turned her head to look for Kit. He was several feet farther down the wall, 
looking as shattered as she felt. He got up slowly and walked out into the 
street. The Lotus glanced up, left its kill and went to meet him. For a moment 
they simply looked at each other from a few feet apart. Kit held one hand out, 
and the Lotus slowly inched forward under the hand, permitting the caress. They 
stood that way for the space of four or five gasps, and then the Lotus rolled 
closer still and pushed its face roughly against Kits leg, like a cat.
How about that, Kit said, his voice cracking. How about that. Nita put her 
face down in her hands, wanting very much to cry, but all she could manage were 
a couple of crooked, whopping sobs. She had a feeling as much worse was coming, 
and she couldnt break down all the way. Nita hid her eyes until she thought her 
voice was working again, then let her hands fall and looked up. Kit, weve got 
to
The Lotus had rolled up and was staring at hera huge, dangerous, curious, 
brown-hided beast. She lost what she was saying, hypnotized by the fierce, 
interested stare. Then the Lotus smiled at Nita, a slow, chrome smile silver and 
sanguine. Uhh, she said, disconcerted, and glanced up at Kit, who had come to 
stand alongside the racer. Weve gotta get out of here, Kit, It has to be the 
spell that brought these things down on us. And when those two cabs let 
you-know-who know that we didnt get caught, or killed
Kit nodded, looked down at the Lotus; it glanced sideways up at him, from 
headlights bright with amusement and triumph. How about it? Kit said in the 
Speech. Could you give us a lift?
In answer the Lotus shrugged, flicking its doors open like a bird spreading its 
wings.
Nita stood up, staggering slightly. Fred?
He appeared besides her, making a feeling of great shame. Fred, whats the 
matter? Kit said, catching it too.
(I couldnt do anything.)
Of course not, Nita said, reaching up to cup his faint spark in one hand. 
Because you just did something huge, dummy. Were all right. Come on for a 
ride. She perched Fred on the upstanding collar of her down vest; he settled 
there with a sigh of light.
Together she and Kit lowered themselves into the dark seats of the Lotus, into 
the dim, warm cockpit, alive with dials and gauges, smelling of leather and 
metal and oil. They had barely strapped themselves in before the Lotus gave a 
great glad shake that slammed its doors shut, and burned rubber down Fifth 
Avenueout of the carnage and south toward the joining of two rivers, and the 
oldest part of Manhattan.
Nita sat at ease, taking a breather and watching the streets of Manhattan rush 
by. Kit, behind the steering wheel, was holding the dark Book in his lap, 
feeling it carefully for any change in the directional spell. He was reluctant 
to touch it. The farther south they went, the more the Book burned the eyes that 
looked at it. The wizards manual had predicted this effectthat, as the two 
Books drew closer to one another, each would assert its own nature more and more 
forcefully. Nita watched the Book warping and skewing the very air around it, 
blurring its own outlines, and found it easy to believe the manuals statement 
that even a mind of terrible enough purpose and power to wrench this Book to its 
use might in the reading be devoured by what was read. She hoped for Kits sake 
that it wouldnt devour someone who just touched it
Were close, Kit said at last, in a quiet, strained voice.
You okay?
Ive got a headache, but thats all. Where are we?
Uhthat was just Pearl Street. Close to City Hall. She tapped the inside of 
her door, a friendly gesture. Your baby moves.
Yeah, Kit said affectionately. The Lotus rumbled under its hood, sped on.
Fred? You feeling better?
Fred looked up at her from her collar. (Somewhat. Id feel better still if I 
knew what we were going to be facing next. If Im to make bricks again, Im 
going to need some notice.)
Your gnaester, huh? Kit said.
(Im not sure I have a gnaester any more, after that last emission. And Im 
afraid to find out.)
Kit, scrunch down, Nita said suddenly, doing the same herself. The Lotus 
roared past the corner of Broadway and Chambers, pointedly ignoring a pair of 
sullen-looking cabs that stared and snarled as it passed. They were parked on 
either side of an iron-railed stairway leading down to a subway station. About a 
block farther along Broadway, two more cabs were parked at another subway 
entrance.
From his slumped-down position, Kit glanced over at Nita. Those are the first 
weve seen.
The usual accesses, Nita said. Theyve got it down in the subway somewhere.
Oh, no, Kit muttered, and (Wonderful,) Fred said. Nita swallowed, not too 
happy about the idea herself. Subway stations, unless they were well lighted and 
filled with people, gave her the creeps. Worse, even in her New York, subways 
had their own special ecologiesnot just the mice and rats and cats that 
everybody knew about, but other less normal creatures, on which the wizards 
manual had had a twenty-page chapter. Theyre all over the place, she said 
aloud, dealing with the worst problem first. How are we going to
Ooof! Kit said, as the dark Book, sitting on his lap, sank down hard as if 
pushed. The Lotus kept driving on down Broadway, past City Hall, and Kit 
struggled upward to look out the back window, noting the spot. That was where 
the other Book wasstraight down from that place we just passed.
The Lotus turned right onto a side street and slowed as if looking for 
something. Finally it pulled over to the left-hand curb and stopped. What Kit 
started to say, but the racer flicked open first Kits door, then Nitas, as if 
it wanted them to get out.
They did, cautiously. The Lotus very quietly closed its doors, then it rolled 
forward a little way, bumping up onto the sidewalk in front of a dingy-looking 
warehouse. It reached down, bared its fangs, and with great delicacy sank them 
into a six-foot-long grille in the sidewalk. The Lotus heaved, and with a soft 
scraping groan, the grille-work came up to reveal an electric-smelling darkness 
and stairs leading down into it.
Its one of the emergency exits from the subway, for when the trains break 
down, Kit whispered, jamming the dark Book back into his backpack and dropping 
to his knees to rub the Lotus enthusiastically behind one headlight. Its 
perfect!
The Lotuss engine purred as it stared at Kit with fierce affection. It backed a 
little and parked itself, its motions indicating it would wait for them. Kit got 
up, pulling out his antenna, and Nita got out her wand Well, she said under 
her breath, lets get it over with . . . 
The steps were cracked concrete, growing damp and discolored as she walked 
downward. Nita held out the wand to be sure of her footing and kept one hand on 
the left wall to be sure of her balancethere was no banister or railing on the 
right, only darkness and echoing air. (Kit) she said silently, wanting to be 
sure he was near, but not wanting to be heard by anything that might be 
listening down there.
(Right behind you. Fred?)
His spark came sailing down behind Kit, looking brighter as they passed from 
gloom to utter dark. (Believe me, Im not far.)
(Heres the bottom,) Nita said. She turned for one last glance up toward street 
level and saw a huge sleek silhouette carefully and quietly replacing the grille 
above them. She gulped, feeling as if she were being shut into a dungeon, and 
turned to look deeper into the darkness. The stairs ended in a ledge three feet 
wide and perhaps four feet deep, recessed into the concrete wall of the subway. 
Nita held up the wand for more light. The ledge stretched away straight ahead, 
with the subway track at the bottom of a wide pit to the right of it. (Which 
way, Kit?)
(Straight, for the time being.)
The light reflected dully from the tracks beside them as they pressed farther 
into the dark. Up on the streets, though there had been darkness, there had also 
been sound. Here there was a silence like black water, a silence none of them 
dared to break. They slipped into it holding their breaths. Even the usual dim 
rumor of a subway tunnel, the sound of trains rumbling far away, the ticking of 
the rails, was missing. The hair stood up all over Nita as she walked and tried 
not to make a sound. The air was damp, chilly, full of the smells of lifetoo 
full, and the wrong kinds of life, at least to Nitas way of thinking. Mold and 
mildew; water dripping too softly to make a sound, but still filling the air 
with a smell of leached lime, a stale, puddly odor; wet trash, piled in 
trickling gutters or at the bases of rusting iron pillars, rotting quietly; and 
always the sharp ozone-and-scorched-soot smell of the third rail. Shortly there 
was light that did not come from Nitas wand. Pale splotches of green-white 
radiance were splashed irregularly on walls and ceilingfirefungus, which the 
wizards manual said was the main food source of the subways smallest denizens, 
dun mice and hidebehinds and skinwings. Nita shuddered at the thought and walked 
faster. Where there were hidebehinds, there would certainly be rats to eat them. 
And where there were rats, there would also be fireworms and thrastles
(Nita.)
She stopped and glanced back at Kit. He was holding his backpack in one arm now 
and the antenna in the other, and looking troubled in the wands silver light. 
(That way,) he said, pointing across the tracks at the far wall with its 
niche-shaped recesses.
(Through the wall? We dont even know how thick it is!) Then she stopped and 
thought a moment. (I wonderYou suppose the Masons Word would work on concrete? 
Whats in concrete, anyhow?)
(Sand-quartz, mostly. Some chemicalsbut I think they all come out of the 
ground.)
(Then itll work. Cmon.) Nita hunkered down and very carefully let herself drop 
into the wide pit where the tracks ran. The crunch of rusty track cinders told 
her Kit was right behind. Fred floated down besides her, going low to light the 
way. With great care Nita stepped over the third rail and balanced on the narrow 
ledge of the wall on the other side. She stowed the wand and laid both hands 
flat on the concrete to begin implementation of the lesser usage of the Word, 
the one that merely manipulates stone rather than giving it the semblance of 
life. Nita leaned her head against the stone too, making sure of her memory of 
the Word, the sixteen syllables that would loose what was bound. Very fast, so 
as not to mess it up, she said the Word and pushed.
Door, she thought as the concrete melted under her hands, and a door there was; 
she was holding the sides of it, (Go ahead,) she said to Kit and Fred. They 
ducked through under her arm. She took a step forward, let go, and the wall 
re-formed behind her.
(Now what the) Kit was staring around him in complete confusion. It took Nita a 
moment to recover from the use of the Word, but when her vision cleared, she 
understood the confusion. They were standing in the middle of another track, 
which ran right into the wall they had just come through and stopped there. The 
walls there were practically one huge mass of firefungus. It hung down in odd 
green-glowing lumps from the ceiling and layered thick in niches and on the 
poles that held the ceiling up. Only the track and ties and the rusty cinders 
between were bare, a dark road leading onward between eerily shining walls for 
perhaps an eighth of a mile before curving around to the right and out of view.
(I dont get it,) Kit said. (This track just starts. Or just stops. It would run 
right into that one we just came off! There arent any subway lines in the city 
that do that! Are there?)
Nita shook her head, listening. The silence of the other tunnel did not persist 
here. Far down along the track, the sickly green light of the firefungus was 
troubled by small shadowy rustlings, movements, the scrabbling of claws. (What 
about the Book?) she said.
Kit nodded down toward the end of the track. (Down there, and a little to the 
right.)
They walked together down the long aisle of cold light, looking cautiously into 
the places where firefungus growth was sparse enough to allow for shadow. Here 
and there small sparks of brightness peered out at them, paired sparksthe eyes 
of dun mice, kindled to unnatural brightness by the fungus they fed on. 
Everywhere was the smell of dampness, old things rotting or rusting. The 
burning-ozone smell grew so chokingly strong that Nita realized it couldnt be 
just the third rail producing iteven if the third rail were alive in a tunnel 
this old. The smell grew stronger as they approached the curve at the tunnels 
end. Kit, still carrying the backpack, was gasping. She stopped just before the 
curve, looked at him. (Are you okay?)
He gulped. (Its close, its really close. I can hardly see, this thing is 
blurring my eyes so bad.)
(You want to give it to me?)
(No, you go ahead. This place seems to be full of live things. Your department)
(Yeah, right,) Nita agreed unhappily, and made sure of her grip on the rowan 
wand. (Well, here goes. Fred, you ready for another diversion?)
(I think I could manage something small if I had to.)
(Great. All together now . . . )
They walked around the curve, side by side. Then they stopped.
It was a subway station. Or it had been at one time, for from where they stood 
at one end of the platform, they could see the tons of rubble that had choked 
and scaled the tunnel at the far end of the platform. The rubble and the high 
ceiling were overgrown with firefungus enough to illuminate the old mosaics on 
the wall, the age-cracked tiles that said city hall over and over again, down 
the length of the platform wall. But the platform and tracks werent visible 
from where they stood. Heaped up from wall to wall was a collection of garbage 
and treasure, things that glittered, things that moldered. Nita saw gems, set 
and unset, like the plunder of a hundred jewelry stores, tumbled together with 
moldy kitchen garbage; costly fabric in bolts or in shreds, half buried by beer 
cans and broken bottles; paintings in ornate frames, elaborately carved 
furniture, lying broken or protruding crookedly from beneath timbers and dirt 
fallen from the old ceiling; vases, sculpture, crystal, silver services, a 
thousand kinds of rich and precious things, lying all together, whole and 
broken, among shattered dirty crockery and base metal. And lying atop the hoard, 
its claws clutched full of cheap costume jewelry, whispering to itself in the 
Speech, was the dragon.
Once more Nita tried to swallow and couldnt manage it. This looked nothing like 
the fireworm her book had mentioneda foot long mouse-eating lizard with 
cigarette-lighter breath. But if a fireworm had had a long, long time to 
growshe remembered the voice of the young man in the three-piece suit, saying 
with relief, The Eldest has it. There was no telling how many years this 
creature had been lairing here in the darkness, growing huger and huger, 
devouring the smaller creatures of the underground night and dominating those it 
did not devour, sending them out to steal for its hoardor to bring it food. 
Nita began to tremble, looking at the fireworm-dragons thirty feet of lean, 
scaled, tight-muscled body, looking at the size of its dark-stained jaws, and 
considering what kind of food it must eat. She glanced down at one taloned hind 
foot and saw something that lay crushed and forgotten beneath ita subway 
repairmans reflective orange vest, torn and scorched; a wrench, half melted; 
the bones, burned black . . . 
The dragon had its head down and was raking over its hoard with huge claws that 
broke what they touched half the time. Its tail twitched like a cats as it 
whispered to itself in a voice like hissing steam. Its scales rustled as it 
moved, glowing faintly with the same light as the firefungus, but colder, 
greener, darker. The dragons eyes were slitted as if even the pale fungus light 
was too much for it. It dug in the hoard, nosed into the hole, dug again, nosed 
about, as if going more by touch than sight, Four thousand and ssix, it 
whispered, annoyed, hurried, angry. It was here sssomewhere, I know it was. 
Three thousandno. Four thousand and-and
It kept digging, its claws sending coins and bottlecaps rolling. The dragon 
reached into the hole and with its teeth lifted out a canvas bag. Bright things 
spilled out, which Nita first thought were more coins but that turned out to be 
subway tokens. With a snarl of aggravation the fireworm-dragon flung the bag 
away, and tokens flew and bounced down the hoard-hill, a storm of brassy 
glitter. One rolled right to Nitas feet. Not taking her eyes off the dragon, 
she bent to pick it up. It was bigger than the subway token the New York transit 
system used these days, and the letters stamped on it were in an old-time style. 
She nudged Kit and passed it to him, looking around at the mosaics on the walls. 
They were old. The City Hall motif repeated in squares high on the 
train-sidewall of the platform looked little like the City Hall of today.
This station had to be one of those that were walled up and forgotten when the 
area was being rebuilt long ago. The question was
(One problem is) Kit started to say in his quietest whisper of thought.
He wasnt quiet enough. With an expression of rage and terror, the dragon lifted 
up from its digging, looked straight at them. Its squinted eyes kindled in the 
light from Nitas wand, throwing back a frightful violet reflection Whos 
there? Whos there? it screamed in the Speech, in a voice like an explosion of 
steam. Without waiting for an answer it struck forward with its neck as a snake 
strikes and spat fire at them. Nita was ready, though; the sound of the scream 
and the sight of many tiny shadows running for cover had given her enough 
warning to put up the shield spell for both herself and Kit. The firebolt, dark 
red shot with billowing black like the output of a flamethrower, blunted against 
the shield and spilled sideways and down like water splashing on a window. When 
the bolt died away, the dragon was creeping and coiling down the hoard toward 
them; but it stopped, confused when it saw that Kit and Nita and Fred still 
stood unhurt. It reared back its head for another bolt.
You cant hurt us, Eldest, Nita said hurriedly, hoping it wouldnt try; the 
smell of burned firefungus was already enough to turn the stomach. The dragon 
crouched low against the hoard, its tail lashing, staring at them.
You came to ssteal, it said, its voice quieter than before but angrier, as it 
realized it couldnt hurt them. No one ever comes here but to ssteal. Or to 
try, it added, glancing savagely over at another torn and fire-withered orange 
vest. What do you want? You cant have it. Mine, all thiss is mine. No one 
takes whatss mine. He promissed, he ssaid he would leave me alone when I came 
here. Now he breakss the promiss, is that it?
The Eldest squinted wrathfully at them. For the second time that day, Nita found 
herself fascinated by an expression. Rage was in the fireworm-dragons face, but 
also a kind of pain; and its voice was desperate in its anger. It turned its 
back, then, crawling back up onto the hoard. I will not let him break the 
promiss. Go back to him and tell him that I will burn it, burn it all, ssooner 
than let him have one ring, one jewel. Mine, all thiss is mine, no hoard has 
been greater than thiss in all times, he will not diminishhh it The Eldest 
wound itself around the top of the hoard-mound like a crown of spines and 
scales, digging its claws protectively into the gems and the trash. A small 
avalanche of objects started from the place where it had been laying the hoard 
open before. Gold bars, some the small collectors bars, some large ones such as 
the banks used, clattered or crashed down the side of the mound. Nita remembered 
how some ten million dollars worth of Federal Reserve gold had vanished from a 
bank in New York some years beforejust vanished, untraceableand she began to 
suspect where it had gone.
Mine, hissed the Eldest. I have eight thousand six hundred forty-two 
diamonds, I have six hundredno. I have four hundred eight emeralds. I had 
eighty-nine black opalsno, fifteen black opals. I have 
eighty-nineeighty-nine The anxiety in its voice was growing, washing out the 
anger. Abruptly the Eldest turned away from them and began digging again, still 
talking, its voice becoming again as it had been when they first camehurried, 
worried. Eighty-nine pounds of silver plate. I have two hundred fourteen pounds 
of goldno, platinum. I have six hundred seventy pounds of gold
Nita, Kit said, very softly, in English, hoping the Eldest wouldnt understand 
itYou get the feeling its losing its memory?
She noddedLord, how awful. For a creature with the intense possessiveness of 
a fireworm to be unable to remember what it had in its hoard must be sheer 
torture. It would never be able to be sure whether everything was there; if 
something was missing, it might not be able to tell. And to a fireworm, whose 
pride is in its defense of its hoard from even the cleverest thieves, there was 
no greater shame than to be stolen from and not notice and avenge the theft 
immediately. The Eldest must live constantly with the fear of that shame. Even 
now it had forgotten Kit and Nita and Fred as it dug and muttered frantically, 
trying to find something, though uncertain of what it was looking for.
Nita was astonished to find that she was feeling sorry for a creature that had 
tried to kill her a few minutes before. Kit, she said, what about the bright 
Book? Is it in there?
He glanced down at the dark Book, which was straining in his backpack toward the 
piled-up hoard. Uh huh. But how are we going to find it? And are you sure that 
defense shield is going to hold up at close range, when it comes after us? You 
know its not going to just let us take something
(Why not trade it something?) Fred asked suddenly.
Nita and Kit both looked at him, struck by the idea. Like what? Kit said.
(Like another Book?)
Oh, no, they said in simultaneous shock.
Fred, Kit said then, we cant do that. Theyou-know-whohell just come right 
here and get it.
(So where did you get it from, anyway? Doubtless he could have read from it any 
time he wanted. If you can get the bright Book back to the Senior wizards in 
your world, cant they use it to counteract whatever he does?)
Nita and Kit both thought about it. He might have a point, Nita said after a 
second. Besides, Kitif we do leave the dark Book here, can you imagine 
you-know-who getting it back without some trouble? She glanced up at the mound, 
where the Eldest was whispering threats of death and destruction against whoever 
might come to steal. He wouldnt have put the bright Book here unless the 
Eldest was an effective guardian.
Even through the discomfort of holding the dark Book, Kit managed to a small 
smile. Gonna try it?
Nita took a step forward. Instantly the dragon paused in its digging to stare at 
her, its scaly lips wrinkled away from black fangs in a snarl, but its eyes 
frightened. Eldest, she said in the Speech, we dont come to steal. Were 
here to make a bargain.
The Eldest stared at Nita a moment more, then narrowed its eyes further. Hss, 
youre a clever thiefff, it said. Why ssshould I bargain with you?
Nita gulped. Wizardry is words, the book had said. Believe, and create the 
truth; but be careful what you believe. Because only your hoard, out of all the 
other hoards from this world to the next, has what were interested in, she 
said carefully. Only you ever had the taste to acquire and preserve this 
thing.
What?said the Eldest. Its voice was still suspicious, but its eyes looked less 
threatened. Nita began to feel a glimmer of hope. What might thiss thing be?
A book, Nita said, an old book something like this one. Kit took a step 
forward and held up the dark Book for the Eldest to see. This close to its 
bright counterpart, the dark volume was warping the air and light around it so 
terribly that its outlines writhed like a fistful of snakes.
The Eldest peered at the dark Book with interest. Now there is ssomething I 
dont have, it said. Sssee how it changes. That would be an interesting 
addition . . . What did you ssay you wanted to trade it for?
Another Book, Eldest. You came by it some time ago, we hear. Its close in 
value to this one. Maybe a little less,Nita added, making it sound offhand.
The dragons eyes brightened like those of a collector about to get the best of 
a bargain. Lesss, you say. Hsss . . . Sssomeone gave me a book rather like that 
one, ssome time ago, I forget just who. Let me ssseee . . .  It turned away 
from them and began digging again. Nita and Kit stood and watched and tried to 
be patient while the Eldest pawed through the trash and the treasure, making 
sounds of possessive affection over everything it touched, mumbling counts and 
estimating values.
I wish it would hurry up, Kit whispered. I cant believe that after weve 
been chased this far, theyre not going to be down here pretty quick. We didnt 
have too much trouble getting in
You didnt open the wall, Nita muttered back. Look, Im still worried about 
leaving this here.
Whaddaya want? Kit snapped. Do I have to carry it all the way home? He 
breathed out, a hiss of annoyance that sounded unnervingly like the Eldest, and 
then rubbed his forearm across his eyes. This thing burnsIm sorry.
Its okay, Nita said, slightly embarrassed. I just wish there were some way 
to be sure that you-know-who wouldnt get his hands on it anytime soon.
Kit looked thoughtful and opened his mouth to say something. It was at that 
moment that the Eldest put its face down into the hole it had been digging and 
came up again with something bright.
The Book of Night with Moon fell with a thump onto a pile of gold and gems and 
made them look tawdry, outshone them in a way that seemed to have nothing to do 
with light. Its cover was the same black leather as that of the dark Bookbut as 
one looked at it, the blackness seemed to gain depth; light seemed hidden in it 
like a secret in a smiling heart. Even the dim green glow of the firefungus 
looked healthier now that the Book lay out in it. Where page edges showed, they 
glittered as if brushed with diamond dust rather than gilding. The Eldest bent 
over the bright Book, squinting as if into a great light but refusing to look 
away. Aaaaaahhh, it said, a slow, caressing, proprietary sigh. Thisss is what 
you wisshed to trade your book ffor?
Yes, Eldest, Nita said, starting to worry.
The dragon laid its front paws on either side of the Book. Ffair, it is ssso 
ffair. I had forgotten how ssweet it was to look on. No. No, I will not trade. I 
will not. Mine, mine . . .  It nosed the bright Book lovingly.
Nita bit her lip and wondered what in the world to try next. Eldest, Kit said 
from beside her, we have something more to trade.
Oh? The dragon looked away from the Book with difficulty and squinted at Kit. 
What might that be?
(Yeah, what?) Nita said silently.
(Sssh.) If you will take our book in trade for that one, well work such a 
wizardry about this place that no thief will ever enter. Youll be safe here for 
as long as you please. Or forever,
(What are you talking about!) Nita said, amazed. (We dont have the supplies for 
a major wizardry like that. The only one you could possibly manage would be one 
of)
(the blank-check spells, I know. Nita, shaddup!)
The Eldest was staring at Kit. No one would ever come in again to ssteal from 
me? it said.
Thats right.
Nita watched the dragons face as it looked away from Kit, thinking. It was old 
and tired, and terrified of losing what it had amassed; but now a frightened 
hope was awakening in its eyes. It looked back at Kit after a few seconds. You 
will not come back either? No one will trouble me again?
Guaranteed, Kit said, meaning it.
Then I will trade. Give me your book, and work your spell, and go. Leave me 
with what is mine. And it picked up the Book of Night with Moon in its jaws and 
dropped it off the hoard-hill, not far from Kits feet. Give me, give me the 
Eldest said. Warily, Nita dropped the shield spell. Kit took a couple of easy 
steps forward and held out the dark Book, The dragon shot its head out, sank 
sharp teeth in the dark Book, and jerked it out of Kits hands so fast he stared 
at them for a moment, counting fingers.
Its mine, it hissed as it turned away and started digging at another spot on 
the hoard, preparing to bury the dark Book. Kit stooped, picked up the Book of 
Night with Moon. It was as heavy as the dark Book had been, about the size of an 
encyclopedia volume, and strange to holdthe depth of the blackness of its 
covers made it seem as if the holding hands should sink right through. Kit 
flipped it open as Nita and Fred came up behind to look over his shoulder. (But 
the pages are blank,) Fred said, puzzled.
(It needs moonlight,) Kit said.
(Well, this is moonlight.) Nita held up the rowan wand over the opened Book. 
Very vaguely they could make out something printed, the symbols of the Speech, 
too faint to read. (Then again, maybe secondhand moonlight isnt good enough. 
Kit, whatre you going to do? You have to seal this place up now. You promised.)
(Im gonna do what I said. One of the blank-check wizardries.)
(But when you do those you dont know what price is going to be asked later.)
(We have to get this Book, dont we? Thats why were here. And this is 
something that has to be done to get the Book. I dont think the pricell be too 
high. Anyway you dont have to worry, Ill do it myself.)
Nita watched Kit getting out his wizards manual and bit her lip. (Oh, no, 
youre not,) she said. (If youre doing it, Im doing it too. Whatever youre 
doing . . . )
(One of the Moebius spells,) Kit said, finding the page. Nita looked over his 
shoulder and read the spell. It would certainly keep thieves out of the hoard. 
When recited, a Moebius spell gave a specified volume of space a half-twist that 
left it permanently out of synch with the spaces surrounding it. The effect 
would be like stopping an elevator between floors, forever. (You read it all 
through?) Kit said.
(Uh huh.)
(Then lets get back in the tunnel and do it and get out of here. Im getting 
this creepy feeling that things arent going to be quiet on ground level when we 
get up there.)
They wanted to say good-bye to the Eldest, but it had forgotten them already. 
Mine, mine, mine, it was whispering as garbage and gold flew in all directions 
from the place where it dug.
(Lets go,) Fred said.
Out in the tunnel, the firefungus seemed brighter to Nitaor perhaps that was 
only the effect of looking at the Book of Night with Moon. They halted at the 
spot where the tunnel curved and began with great care to read the Moebius 
spell. The first part of it was something strange and unsettlingan invocation 
to the Powers that governed the arts of wizardry, asking them to help this piece 
of work and promising that the power lent would be returned if They required. 
Nita shivered, wondering what she was getting herself into, for use of the 
Speech made the promise more of a prediction. Then came the definition of the 
space to be twisted, and finally the twisting itself. As they spoke the words 
Nita could see the Eldest, still digging away at his hoard, going pale and dim 
as if with distance, going away, though not moving. The words pushed the space 
farther and farther away, toward an edge that could be sensed more strongly 
though not seenthen, suddenly, over it. The spell broke, completed. Nita and 
Kit and Fred were standing at the edge of a great empty pit, as if someone had 
reached up into the earth and scooped out the subway station, the hoard, and the 
Eldest, whole. Someone had.
I think we better get out of here, Kit said, very quietly. As if in answer to 
his words came a long, soft groan of strained timber and metalthe pillars and 
walls of the tunnel where they stood and the tunnel on the other side of the 
pit, bending under new stresses that the pillars of the station had handled and 
that these were not meant to. Then a rumble, something falling.
Nita and Kit turned and ran down the tunnel, stumbling over timbers and picking 
themselves up and running again. Fred zipped along beside like a shooting star 
looking for the right place to fall. They slammed into the wall at the end of 
the track as the rumble turned to a thunder and the thunder started catching up 
behind. Nita found bare concrete, said the Masons Word in a gasp, and flung the 
stone open. Kit jumped through with Fred behind him. The tunnel shook, roared, 
blew out a stinging, dust-laden wind, and went down in ruin as Nita leaped 
through the opening and fell to the tracks beside Kit.
He got to his knees slowly, rubbing himself where he had hit. Boy, he said, 
if we werent in trouble with you-know-who before, we are now . . . 
Hurriedly Kit and Nita got up and the three of them headed for the ledge and the 
way to the open air.









8. Major WizardriesTermination and Recovery
With great caution and a grunt of effort, Kit pushed up the grille at the top of 
the concrete steps and looked around. Oh, brother, he whispered, sometimes I 
wish I wasnt right.
He scrambled up out of the tunnel and onto the sidewalk, with Nita and Fred 
following right behind. The street was a shambles reminiscent of Fifth and 
Sixty-second. Corpses of cabs and limousines and even a small truck were 
scattered around, smashed into lampposts and the fronts of buildings, overturned 
on the sidewalk. The Lotus Esprit was crouched at guard a few feet away from the 
grille opening, its engine running in long, tired-sounding gasps. As Kit ran 
over to it, the Lotus rumbled an urgent greeting and shrugged its doors open.
They know were here, Nita said as they hurriedly climbed in and buckled up. 
They have to know what weve done. Everything feels different since the dark 
Book fell out of this space.
(And they must know well head back for the worldgate at Pan Am,) Fred said. 
(Wherever that is.)
Weve gotta find itoof! Kit said, as the Lotus reared back, slamming its 
doors shut, and dove down the street they were on, around the corner and north 
again. Nita, you up for one more spell?
Do we have a choice? She got her manual out of her pack, started thumbing 
through it. What I want to know is what were supposed to try on whatever they 
have waiting for us at Grand Central. You-know-who isnt just going to let us 
walk in there and leave with the bright Book
Well burn that bridge when we come to it. Kit had his backpack open in his 
lap and was peeking at the Book of Night with Moon. Even in the sullen dimness 
that leaked in the Lotuss windows, the edges of the pages of the Book shone, 
the black depths of its covers glowed with the promise of light. Kit ran a 
finger along the upper edge of one cover, and as Nita watched his face settled 
into a solemn stillness, as if someone spoke and he listened intently. It was a 
long moment before the expression broke. Then Kit glanced over at her with a 
wondering look in his eyes. It really doesnt look like that much, he said. 
But it feelsNita, I dont think they can hurt us while we have this. Or if 
they can, it wont matter much.
Maybe not, if we read from it, Nita said, reading down through the spell that 
would locate the worldgate for them. But you remember what Tom said
Yeah. But there was no concern in Kits voice, and he was looking soberly at 
the Book again.
Nita finished checking the spell and settled back in the seat to prepare for it, 
then started forward again as a spark of heat burned into her neck, Ow!
(Sorry.) Fred slid around from behind her to perch farther forward on her 
shoulder.
Here we go, Nita said.
She had hardly begun reading the imaging spell before a wash of power such as 
she had never felt seized her and plunged her into the spell headfirst. And the 
amazing thing was that she couldnt even be frightened, for whatever had so 
suddenly pulled her under and into the magic was utterly benevolent, a huge calm 
influence that Nita sensed would do her nothing but good, though it might kill 
her doing it. The power took her, poured itself into her, made the spell part of 
her. There was no longer any need to work it; it was. Instantly she saw all 
Manhattan laid out before her again in shadow outlines, and there was the 
worldgate, almost drowned in the darkness created by the Starsnuffer, but not 
hidden to her. The power let her go then, and she sat back gasping. Kit was 
watching her strangely.
(I think I see what you mean,) she said. (The Bookit made the spell happen by 
itself, almost.)
Not almost,  Kit said. No wonder you-know-who wants it kept out of the 
hands of the Senior wizards. It can make even a beginners spell happen. It did 
the same thing with the Moebius spell. If someone wanted to take this Place 
apartor if someone wanted to make more places like it, and they had the Book 
He gulped. Look, wheres the gate?
Where it should be, Nita said, finding her breath. Undergroundunder Grand 
Central. Not in the deli, though. Its down in one of the train tunnels.
Kit gulped again, harder. Trains . . . And you know that placell be guarded. 
Fred, are you up to another diversion? (Will it get us back to the sun and the 
stars again? Try me.) Nita closed her eyes to lean back and take a seconds 
restthe power that had run through her for that moment had left her amazingly 
drainedbut nearly jumped out of her skin the next moment as the Lotus braked, 
wildly fishtailing around a brace of cabs that leaped at it out of a side 
street. With a scream of engine and a cloud of exhaust and burned rubber it 
found its traction again and tore out of the intersection and up Third Avenue, 
leaving the cabs behind.
They know, they know, Nita moaned, Kit, whatre we going to do? Is the Book 
going to be enough to stand up to him?
Well find out, I guess, Kit said, though he sounded none too certain. Weve 
been lucky so far. No, not lucky, weve been ready. Maybe thatll be enough. We 
both came prepared for trouble, we both did our reading
Nita looked sheepish. You did, maybe. I couldnt get past Chapter Forty. No 
matter how much I read, there was always more.
Kit smiled just as uncomfortably. I only got to Thirty-three myself, then I 
skimmed a lot.
Kit, theres about to be a surprise quiz. Did we study the right chapters?
Well, were gonna find out, Kit said. The Lotus turned left at the corner of 
Third and Forty-second, speeding down toward Grand Central. Forty-second seemed 
empty; not even a cab was in sight. But a great looming darkness was gathered 
down the street, hiding the iron overpass. The Lotus slowed, unwilling to go 
near it.
Right here is fine, Kit said, touching the dashboard reassuringly. The Lotus 
stopped in front of the doors to Grand Central, reluctantly shrugging first 
Nitas, then Kits door open.
They got out and looked around them. Silence. Nita looked nervously at the doors 
and the darkness beyond, while the Lotus crowded close to Kit, who rubbed its 
right wheelwell absently.
The sound came. A single clang, like an anvil being struck, not too far away. 
Then another clang, hollow and metallic, echoing from the blank-eyed buildings, 
dying into bell-like echoes. Several more clangs, close together. Then a series 
of them, a slow drumroll of metal beating on stone. The Lotus pulled out from 
under Kits hand, turning to face down Forty-second the way they had come, 
growling deep under its hood.
The clangor grew louder; echoes bounced back and forth from building to building 
so that it was impossible to tell from what direction the sound was coming. Down 
at the corner of Lexington and Forty-second, a blackness jutted suddenly from 
behind one of the buildings on the uptown side. The shape of it and its unlikely 
height above the pavement, some fifteen feet, kept Nita from recognizing what it 
was until more of it came around the corner, until the blackness found its whole 
shape and swung it around into the middle of the street on iron hooves.
Eight hooves, ponderous and deadly, dented the asphalt of the streetThey 
belonged to a horsea huge, misproportioned beast, its head skinned to a skull, 
leaden-eyed and grinning hollowly. All black iron that steed as if it had 
stepped down from a pedestal at its riders call; and the one who rode it wore 
his own darkness on purpose, as if to reflect the black mood within. The 
Starsnuffer had put aside his three-piece suit for chain mail like hammered onyx 
and a cloak like night with no stars. His face was still handsome, but dreadful 
now, harder than any stone. His eyes burned with the burning of the dark Book, 
alive with painful memory about to come real. About the feet of his mount the 
perytons milled, not quite daring to look in their masters face, but staring 
and slavering at the sight of Kit and Nita, waiting the command to course their 
prey.
Kit and Nita stood frozen, and Freds light, hanging small and constant as a 
star behind them, dimmed down to its faintest.
The cold, proud, erect figure on the black mount raised what it held in its 
right hand, a steel rod burning dark and skewing the air about it as the dark 
Book had. You have stolen something of mine, said a voice as cold as space, 
using the Speech with icy perfection and hating it. No one steals from me.
The bolt that burst from the rod was a red darker than the Eldests fiery 
breath. Nita did not even try to use the rowan wand in defenseas well try to 
use a sheet of paper to stop a laser beam. But as she and Kit leaped aside, the 
air around them went afire with sudden clarity, as if for a moment the darkness 
inherent in it was burned away. The destroying bolt went awry, struck up 
sideways and blasted soot-stained blocks out of the facing of Grand Central. And 
in that moment the Lotus screamed wild defiance and leaped down Forty-second at 
the rider and his steed.
NO! Kit screamed. Nita grabbed him, pulled him toward the doors. He wouldnt 
come, wouldnt turn away as the baying perytons scattered, as the Lotus hurtled 
into the forefront of the pack, flinging bodies about. It leaped up at the 
throat of the iron beast, which reared on four hooves and raised the other four 
and with them smashed the Lotus flat into the street.
The bloom of fire that followed blotted out that end of the street. Kit 
responded to Nitas pulling then, and together they ran through the doors, up 
the ramp that led into Grand Central, out across the floor
Nita was busy getting the rowan wand out, had gotten ahead of Kit, who couldnt 
move as fast because he was cryingbut it was his hand that shot out and caught 
her by the collar at the bottom of the ramp, almost choking her and kept her 
from falling into the pit. There was no floor. From one side of the main 
concourse to the other was a great smoking crevasse, the floor, lower levels and 
tunnels beneath all split as if with an axe. Ozone smell, cinder smell and the 
smell of tortured steel breathed up hot in their faces, while from behind, 
outside, the thunder of huge hooves on concrete and the howls of perytons began 
again. Below them severed tunnels and stairways gaped dark. There was no seeing 
the bottomit was veiled in fumes and soot, underlit by the blue arcs of 
shorted-out third rails and an ominous deep red, as if the earth itself had 
broken open and was bleeding lava. The hooves clanged closer.
Nita turned to Kit, desperate. Though his face still streamed with tears, there 
was an odd, painful calm about it. I know what to do, he said, his voice 
saying that he found that strange. He drew the antenna out of his back pocket, 
and it was just as Nita noticed how strangely clear the air was burning about 
him that Kit threw the piece of steel out over the smoking abyss. She would have 
cried out and grabbed him, except that he was watching it so intently.
The hoofbeats stopped and were followed by a sound as of iron boots coming down 
on the sidewalk, immensely heavy, shattering the stone. Despite her own panic, 
Nita found she couldnt look away from the falling antenna either. She was 
gripped motionless in the depths of a spell again, while the power that burned 
the air clear now poured itself through Kit and into his wizardry. There was 
something wrong with the way the antenna was falling. It seemed to be getting 
bigger with distance instead of smaller. It stretched, it grew, glittering as it 
turned and changed. It wasnt even an antenna any more. Sharp blue light and 
diffuse red gleamed from flat, polished faces, edges sharp as razors. It was a 
sword blade, not even falling now, but laid across the chasm like a bridge. The 
wizardry broke and turned Nita loose. Kit moved away from her and stepped out 
onto the flat of the blade, fear and pain showing in his face again.
Kit!
Its solid, he said, still crying, taking another step out onto the span, 
holding his arms out for balance as it bent slightly under his weight. Come on, 
Nita, its moon-forged steel, he cant cross it. Hell have to change shape or 
seal this hole up.
(Nita, come on,) Fred said, and bobbled out across the crevasse, following Kit. 
Though almost blind with terror, her ears full of the sound of iron-shod feet 
coming after them, she followed Fred, who was holding a straight course out over 
the sword bladefollowed him, arms out as she might have on a balance beam, most 
carefully not looking down. This was worse than the bridge of air had been, for 
that hadnt flexed so terribly under each step she or Kit took. His steps threw 
her off balance until she halted long enough to take a deep breath and step in 
time with him. Smoke and the smell of burning floated up around her; the shadows 
of the dome above the concourse stirred with wicked eyes, the open doors to the 
train platforms ahead of muttered, their mouths full of hate. She watched the 
end of the looked straight ahead. Five steps: Kit was off. Three. One
She reached out to him, needing desperately to feel the touch of a hand. He 
grabbed her arm and pulled her off the bridge just as another blast of black-red 
fire blew in the doors on the other side of the abyss. Kit said one sharp word 
in the Speech, and the air went murky around his body again as the Book ceased 
to work through him. Nita let go, glanced over her shoulder in time to see the 
sword blade snap back to being an antenna, like a rubber band going back to its 
right size. It fell into the fuming darkness, a lone glitter, quickly gone.
They ran. Nita could still see in her mind the place where the worldgate was 
hidden; the Books power had burned it into her like a brand. She took the lead, 
racing down a flight of stairs, around a corner and down another flight, into 
echoing beige-tiled corridors where Fred and the rowan wand were their only 
light. Above them they could hear the thunderous rumor of iron footsteps, slow, 
leisurely, inexorable, following them down. The howls of perytons floated down 
to them like the voices of lost souls, hungry for the blood and pain they needed 
to feel alive again.
Here! Nita shouted, not caring what might hear, and dodged around a corner, 
and did what she had never done in all her life beforejumped a subway 
turnstile. Its metal fingers made a grab for her, but she was too fast for them, 
and Kit eluded them too, coming right behind. At full speed Nita pounded down 
the platform, looking for the steps at the end of it that would let them down 
onto the tracks. She took them three at a time, two leaps, and then was running 
on cinders again, leaping over ties. Behind her she could hear Kit hobbling as 
fast as he could on his sore leg, gasping, but keeping up. Fred shot along 
besides her, pacing her, lighting her way. Eyes flickered in his 
lighthidebehinds, dun mice, ducking under cover as the three of them went past. 
Nita slowed and stopped in the middle of the tracks. Here!
Kit had his manual out already. He found the page by Freds light, thumped to a 
stop beside Nita. Here? In the middle of the
Read! Read! she yelled. There was more thunder rolling in the tunnel than just 
the sound of their pursuers footsteps. Far away, she could hear what had been 
missing from the other tunnel beneath City Hall; trains. Away in the darkness, 
wheels slammed into the tracks they rodeeven now the tracks around them were 
clacking faintly in sympathy, and a slight cool wind breathed against Nitas 
face. A train was coming. On this track. Kit began the worldgating spell, 
reading fast. Again the air around them seemed clearer, fresher, as the power of 
the Book of Night with Moon seized the spell and its speaker, used them both.
That was when the Starsnuffers power came down on them. It seemed impossible 
that the dank close darkness in which they stood could become any darker, but it 
did, as an oppressive blanket of clutching, choking hatred blasted them, 
blanketing everything. The rowan rods silver fire was smothering. Freds light 
went out as if he had been stepped on, Kit stopped reading, rugged for breath. 
Nita tried to resist, tried to find air, couldnt, collapsed to her knees, 
choking. The breeze from the dark at the end of the tunnel got stronger: the 
onrushing train, pushing the air in front of it, right up the track, right at 
them
(Iwillnot,) Fred said, struggling, angry. (I willnotgo out!) His 
determination was good for a brief flare, like a match being struck. Kit found 
his voice, managed to get out a couple more words of the spell in Freds 
wavering radiance, grew stronger, managed a few more. Nita found that she could 
breathe again. She clutched the rowan wand, thinking with all her might of the 
night Liused had given it to her, the clear moonlight shining down between the 
branches. The wand came alive again. Shadows that had edged forward from the 
walls of the tunnel fled again. Kit read, hurrying. Two thirds done, Nita 
thought. If he can just finish
Far away down the tunnel, there were eyes. They blazed. The headlights of a 
train, coming down at them in full career. The clack of the rails rose to a 
rattle, the breeze became a wind, the roar of the train itself echoed not just 
in the other tunnels, but in this one. Nita got to her feet, facing those eyes 
down. She would not look away. Fred floated by her shoulder; she gathered him 
close, perching him by her ear, feeling his terror of the overwhelming darkness 
as if it were her own but having nothing to comfort him with. Kit, she thought, 
not daring to say it aloud for fear she should interrupt his concentration. The 
sound of his words was getting lost in the thunder from above, iron-shod feet, 
the thunder from below, iron wheels on iron rails.
Suddenly Kits voice was missing from the melange of thunders. Without warning 
the worldgate was there, glistening in the light of the rowan wand and Fred and 
the train howling down toward thema great jagged soap bubble, trembling with 
the pressure of sound and air. Kit wasted no time, but leaped through. Fred 
zipped into the shimmering surface and was gone. Nita made sure of her grip on 
the rowan wand, took a deep breath, and jumped through the worldgate. A hundred 
feet away, fifty feet away, the blazing eyes of the train glared at her as she 
jumped; its horn screamed in delight, anticipating the feel of blood beneath its 
wheels; sudden thunder rocked the platform behind her, black-red fire more 
sensed than seen. But the rainbow shimmer of the gate broke across her face 
first. The train roared through the place where she had been, and she heard the 
beginnings of a cry of frustrated rage as she cheated death, and anger, and fell 
and fell and fell . . . 
and came down slam on nothing. Or it seemed that way, until opening her eyes a 
little wider she saw the soot and smog trapped in the hardened air she lay on, 
the only remnant of her walkway. Kit was already getting up from his knees 
beside her, looking out from their little island of air across to the Pan Am 
Building. Everything was dark, and Nita started to groan, certain that something 
had gone wrong and that the worldgate had simply dropped them back in the 
Starsnuffers worldbut no, her walkway was there. Greatly daring, she looked 
down and saw far below the bright yellow glow of sodium-vapor street lights and 
red of taillights, City noise, roaring, cacophonous and alive, floated up to 
them. Were back. It worked!
Kit was reading from his wizards manual, as fast as he had read down in the 
train tunnel. He stopped and then looked at Nita in panic as she got up. I 
cant close the gate!
She gulped. Then he can follow us, through . . .  In an agony of haste she 
fumbled her own book out of her pack, checked the words for the air-hardening 
spell one more time, and began reading herself. Maybe panic helped, for this 
time the walkway spread itself out from their feet to the roof of the building 
very fast indeed. Come on, she said, heading out across it as quickly as she 
dared. But where will we run to? she thought. Hell come behind, hunting. We 
cant go home, he might follow. And whatll he do to the city?
She reached up to the heliport railing and swung herself over it. Kit followed, 
with Fred pacing him. Whatre we gonna do? he said as they headed across the 
gravel together. Theres no time to call the Senior wizards, wherever they 
areor even Tom and Carl. Hell be here shortly.
Then well have to get away from here and find a place to hole up for a little. 
Maybe the bright Book can help. She paused as Kit spoke to the lock on the roof 
door, and they ran down the stairs. Or the manuals might have something, now 
that we need it.
Yeah, right, Kit said as he opened the second door at the bottom of the 
stairs, and they ran down the corridor where the elevators were. But he didnt 
sound convinced. The park?
Sounds good.
Nita punched the call button for the elevator, and she and Kit stood there 
panting. There was a feeling in the air that all hell was about to break loose, 
and the sweat was breaking out all over Nita because they were going to have to 
stop it somehow. Fred, she said, did you ever hear anything, out where you 
were, any stories of someone getting the better of you-know-who?
Freds light flickered uncomfortably as he watched Kit frantically consulting 
his manual. (Oh, yes,) he said. (Id imagine thats why he wanted a universe 
apart to himselfto keep others from getting in and thwarting him. It used to 
happen fairly frequently when he went up against life.)
Freds voice was too subdued for Nitas liking. Whats the catch?
(Well . . . its possible to win against him. But usually someone dies of it)
Nita gulped again. Somehow she had been expecting something like that. Kit?
The elevator chimed. Once inside, Kit went back to looking through his manual. 
I dont see anything, he said, sounding very worried. Theres a 
general-information chapter on him here, but theres not much we dont know 
already. The only thing hes never been able to dominate was the Book of Night 
with Moon. He triedthats what the dark Book was for; he thought by linking 
them together he could influence the bright Book with it, diminish its power. 
But that didnt work. Finally he was reduced to simply stealing the bright Book 
and hiding it where no one could get at it. That way no one could become a 
channel for its power, no one could possibly defeat him . . . 
Nita squeezed her eyes shut, not sure whether the sinking feeling in her stomach 
was due to her own terror or the elevator going down. Read from it? No, no. I 
hope I never have to, Toms voice said in her mind . . . Reading it, being the 
vessel for all that powerI wouldnt want to. Even good can be terribly 
dangerous.
And that was an Advisory, Nita thought, miserable. There was no doubt about it. 
One of them might have to do what a mature wizard feared doing: read from the 
Book itself.
Let me do it, she said, not looking at Kit.
He glanced up from the manual, stared at her. Bull, he said, and then looked 
down at the manual again. If youre gonna do it, Im gonna do it.
Outside the doors another bell chimed as the elevator slowed to a stop. Kit led 
the way out across the black stone floor, around the corner to the entrance. The 
glass door let them out onto a street just like the one they had walked onto in 
the Snuffers otherworldbut here windows had lights in them, and the reek of 
gas and fumes was mixed with a cool smell of evening and a rising wind, and the 
cabs that passed looked blunt and friendly. Nita could have cried for relief, 
except that there was no reason to feel relieved. Things would be getting much 
worse shortly.
Fred, though, felt no such compunctions. (The stars, the stars are back,) he 
almost sang, flashing with delight as they hurried along.
Where? Kit said skeptically. As usual, the glow of a million street lights was 
so fierce that even the brightest stars were blotted out by it. But Fred was too 
cheerful to be suppressed.
(Theyre there, theyre there!) he said, dancing ahead of them. (And the Sun is 
there too. I dont care that its on the other side of this silly place, I can 
feelfeel)
His thought cut off so abruptly that Nita and Kit both stopped and glanced over 
their shoulders. A coldness grabbed Nitas heart and wrung itThe sky, even 
though clear, did have a faint golden glow to it, city light scattered from 
smogand against that glow, high up atop the Pan Am Building, a form half 
unstarred night and half black iron glowered down at them like a statue from a 
dauntingly high pedestal. Nita and Kit froze like pinned to a card as the remote 
clear howl of perytons wound through the air.
Hell just jump down, Nita whispered, knowing somehow that he could do it, But 
the rider did not leap, not yet. Slowly he raised his arms in summons. One hand 
still held the steel rod about which the air twisted and writhed as if in pain; 
as the arm lifted, that writhing grew more violent, more tortured.
And darkness answered the gesture. It flowed forward around the feet of the dark 
riders terrible mount, obscuring the perytons peering down over the roofs 
edge, and poured down the surface of the building like a black fog. What it 
touched, changed. Where the darkness passed, metal tarnished, glass filmed over 
or shattered, lighted windows were quenched, went blind. Down all the sides of 
the building it flowed, black lava burning the brightness out of everything it 
touched.
Kit and Nita looked at each other in despair, knowing what would happen when 
that darkness spilled out onto the ground. The streets would go desolate and 
dark, the cabs would stop being friendly; and when all the island from river to 
river was turned into his domain, the dark rider would catch them at his leisure 
and do what he pleased with them. And with the bright Bookand with everything 
else under the sky, perhaps. This was no otherworld, frightening but remote. 
This was their home. If this world turned into that one
Were dead, Kit said, and turned to run. Nita followed him. Perhaps out of 
hope that another Lotus might be waiting innocently at some curbside, the way 
Kit ran retraced their earlier path. But there was no Lotusonly bright streets, 
full of people going about their business with no idea of what was about to 
happen to them, cars honking at one another in cheerful ignorance. Fat men 
running newsstands and bemused bag-ladies watched Nita and Kit run by as if 
death and doom were after them, and no one really noticed the determined spark 
of light keeping pace. They ran like the wind down West Fiftieth, but no Lotus 
lay there, and around the corner onto Fifth and up to Sixty-first, but the 
carnage left in the otherworld was not reflected herethe traffic on Fifth ran 
unperturbed. Gasping, they waited for a break in it, then ran across, hopped the 
wall into the park and crouched down beside it as they had in the world theyd 
left.
The wind was rising, not just a night breeze off the East River, but a chill 
wind with a hint of that other places coldness to it. Kit unslung his pack as 
drew in close, and by his light Kit brought out the Book of Night with Moon. The 
darkness of its covers shone, steadying Kits hands, making Fred seem to burn 
brighter. Kit and Nita sat gasping for breath, staring at each other.
Im out of ideas, Kit said. I think were going to have to read from this to 
keep the city the way it should be. We cant just let him change things until he 
catches us. Buildings are one thing; but what happens to people after that black 
hits them?
And it might not stop here either, Nita said between gasps, thinking of her 
mother and father and Dairine, of the quiet street where they lived, the garden, 
the rowan, all warped and darkenedif they would survive at all.
Her eyes went up to the Moon shining white and full between the shifting 
branches. All around them she could feel the trees stirring in that new, 
strange, cold wind, whispering uneasily to one another. It was so good to be in 
a place where she could hear the growing things again.
The idea came. Kit, she said hurriedly, that dark was moving pretty fast. If 
were going to read from the Book we may need something to buy us time, to hold 
off the things thatll come with it, the perytons and the cabs.
Were out of Lotuses, Kit said, his voice bleak.
I know. But look where we are! Kit, this is Central Park! You know how many 
trees there are in here of the kinds that went to the Battle in the old days? 
They dont forget.
He stared at her. What can they
The Book makes everything work better, doesnt it? Theres a spell thatIll do 
it, youll see. But youve got to do one too, its in your specialty group. The 
Masons Word, the long version
To bring stone or metal to life. He scrubbed the last tears out of his eyes 
and managed ever so slight and slow a smile. There are more statues within 
screaming distance of this place
Kit, Nita said, how loud can you scream?
Lets find out.
They both started going through their manuals in panicky haste. Far away on the 
east side, lessened by all the buildings and distance that lay between, but 
still much too clear, there was a single, huge, deep-pitched clang, an immense 
weight of metal hitting the ground with stone-shattering force. Fred hobbled a 
little in the air, nervously. (How long do you think)
Hell be a while, Fred, Kit said, sounding as if he hoped it would be a long 
while. He doesnt like to run; its beneath his dignity. But I think He broke 
off for a moment, reading down a page and forming the syllables of the Masons 
Word without saying them aloud. I think were going to have a few friends 
wholl do a little running for us.
He stood up, and Fred followed him, staying close to light the page. Nita, hand 
me the Book. She passed it up to him, breaking off her own frantic reading for 
a moment to watch. Itll have to be a scream, he said as if himself. The more 
of them hear me, the more help we get.
Kit took three long breaths and then shouted the Word at the top of his lungs, 
all twenty-seven syllables of it without missing a one. The sound rose 
impossibly more than the yell of a twelve-year-old could as the Book seized the 
sound and the spell together and flung them out into the city night. Nita had to 
hold her ears. Even when it seemed safe to uncover them again, the echoes 
bounced back from buildings on all sides and would not stop. Kit stood there 
amazed as his voice rang and ricocheted from walls blocks away. Well, he said, 
theyll feel the darkness, theyll know whats happening. I think.
My turn, Nita said, and stood up beside Kit, making sure of her place. Her 
spell was not a long one. She fumbled for the rowan wand, put it in the hand 
that also held her wizards manual, and took the bright Book from Kit. I hope 
she started to say, but the words were shocked out of her as the feeling that 
the Book brought with it shot up her arm. Power, such sheer joyous power that no 
spell could fail, no matter how new the wizard was to the Art, Here, under 
moonlight and freed at last from its long restraint, the Book was more potent 
than even the dark rider who trailed them would suspect, and that potency raged 
to be free. Nita bent her head to her manual and read the spell.
Or tried to. She saw the words, the syllables, and spoke the Speech, but the 
moonfire falling on the Book ran through her veins, slid down her throat, and 
turned the words to song more subtle than she had ever dreamed of, burned behind 
her eyes and showed her another time, when another will had voiced these words 
for the first time and called the trees to battle.
All around her, both now and then, the trees lifted their arms into the wind, 
breathed the fumes of the new-old Earth and breathed out air that men could use; 
they broke the stone to make ground for their children to till and fed the mold 
with themselves, leaf and bough, and generation upon generation. They knew to 
what end their sacrifice would come, but they did it anyway, and they would do 
it again in the Witherers spite. They were doing it now. Oak and ash and 
willow, birch and alder, elm and maple, they felt the darkness in the wind that 
tossed their branches and would not stand still for it. The ground shook all 
around Nita, roots heaved and came freefirst the trees close by, the 
counterparts of the trees under which she and Kit and Fred had sheltered in the 
dark otherworld. White oak, larch, twisted crabapple, their leaves glittering 
around the edges with the flowering radiance of the rowan wand, they lurched and 
staggered as they came rootloose, and then crowded in around Kit and Nita and 
Fred, whispering with wind, making a protecting circle through which nothing 
would pass but moonlight, the effect spread out and away from Nita, though the 
spell itself was finished, and that relentless power let her sag against one 
friendly oak, gasping. For yards, for blocks, as far as she could see through 
the trunks of the trees crowded close, branches waved green and wild as bushes 
and vines and hundred-year monarchs of the park pulled themselves out of the 
ground and moved heavily to the defense. Away to the east, the clangor of metal 
hooves and the barks and howls of the dark riders pack were coming closer. The 
trees waded angrily toward the noise, some hobbling along on top of the ground, 
some wading through it, and just as easily through sidewalks and stone walls. In 
a few minutes there was a nearly solid palisade of living wood between Kit and 
Nita and Fred and Fifth Avenue. Even the glare of the streetlights barely made 
it through the branches.
Kit and Nita looked at each other. Well, Kit said reluctantly, I guess we 
cant put it off any longer.
Nita shook her head. She moved to put her manual away and was momentarily 
shocked when the rowan wand, spent, crumbled to silver ash in her hand. So much 
for that, she said, feeling unnervingly naked now that her protection was gone. 
Another howl sounded, very close by, and was abruptly cut off in a rushing of 
branches as if a tree had fallen on something on purpose. Nita fumbled in her 
pocket and pulled out a nickel. Call it, she said.
Heads.
She tossed the coin, caught it, slapped it down on her forearm. Heads. Crud, 
she said, and handed the bright Book to Kit.
He took it uneasily, but with a glitter of excitement in his eye. Dont worry, 
he said. Youll get your chance.
Yeah, well, dont hog it. She looked over at him and was amazed to see him 
regarding her with some of the same worry she was feeling. From outside the 
fence of trees came a screech of brakes, the sound of a long skid, and then a 
great splintering crashing of metal and smashing of glass as an attacking cab 
lost an argument with some tree standing guard. Evidently reinforcements from 
that other, darker world were arriving.
I wont, Kit said, Youll take it away from me and keep reading if
He stopped, not knowing what might happen, Nita nodded. Fred, she said, we 
may need a diversion. But save yourself till the last minute.
(I will. Kit) The spark of light hung close to him for a moment. (Be careful.)
Suddenly, without warning, every tree around them shuddered as if violently 
struck. Nita could hear them crying out in silent anguish, and cried out in 
terror herself as she felt what they felta great numbing cold that smote at the 
heart like an axe. Kit, beside her, sat frozen with it, aghast. Fred went dim 
with shock. (Not again!) he said, his voice faint and horrified. (Not here, 
where theres so much life!)
The Sun, Nita whispered. He put out the Sun! Starsnuffer, she thought. That 
tactics worked for him before. And if the Sun is out, pretty soon there wont 
be moonlight to read by, and he can
Kit stared up at the Moon as if at someone about to die, Nita, how long do we 
have?
Eight minutes, maybe a little more, for light to get here from the Sun. Eight 
minutes before it runs out . . . 
Kit sat down hurriedly, laid the bright Book in his lap, and opened it. The 
light of the full Moon fell on the glittering pages. This time the print was not 
vague as under the light of Nitas wand. It was clear and sharp and dark, as 
easily read as normal print in daylight. The Book s covers were fading, going 
clear, burning with that eye-searing transparency that Nita had seen about Kit 
and herself before. The whole Book was hardly to be seen except for its 
printing, which burned in its own fashion, supremely black and clear, but 
glistening as if the ink with which the characters were printed had moonlight 
trapped in them too. Heres an index, Kit whispered, using the Speech now. I 
thinkthe part about New York
Yes, Nita thought desperately, as another cab crashed into the trees and 
finished itself. And what then? What do we do aboutShe would not finish the 
thought, for the sound of those leisurely, deadly hoofbeats was getting closer, 
and mixing with it were sirens and the panicked sound of car horns. She thought 
of that awful dark form crossing Madison, kicking cars aside, crushing what 
tried to stop it, and all the time that wave of blackness washing alongside, 
changing everything, stripping the streets bare of life and light. And what 
about the Sun? The Earth will freeze over before long, and hell have the whole 
planet the way he wants itNita shuddered. Cold and darkness and nothing left 
alivea storm-broken, ice-locked world, full of twisted machines stalking 
desolate streets forever . . . 
Kit was turning pages, quickly but gently, as if what he touched was a live 
thing. Perhaps it was. Nita saw him pause between one page and the next, holding 
one bright-burning page draped delicately over his fingers, then letting it 
slide carefully down to lie with the others hed turned. Here, he whispered, 
awed, delighted. He did not look up to see what Nita saw, the wave of darkness 
creeping around them, unable to pass the tree-wall, passing onward, surrounding 
them so that they were suddenly on an island of grass in a sea of wrestling 
naked tree limbs and bare-seared dirt and rock. Here
He began to read, and for all her fear Nita was lulled to stillness by wonder. 
Kits voice was that of someone discovering words for the first time after a 
long silence, and the words he found were a song, as her spell to free the trees 
had seemed, She sank deep in the music of the Speech, hearing the story told in 
what Kit read.
Kit was invoking New York, calling it up as one might call up a spirit; and, 
obedient to the summons, it came. The skyline came, unsmirched by any 
blacknessa crown of glittering towers in a smoky sunrise, all stabbing points 
of jeweled windows, precipices of steel and stone. City Hall came, brooding over 
its colonnades, gazing down in weary interest at the people who came and went 
and governed the island through it. The streets came, hot, dirty crowded, but 
flowing with voices and traffic and people, bright lifeblood surging through 
concrete arteries. The parks came, settling into place one by one as they were 
described, free of the darkness under the nightfrom tiny paved vest-pocket 
niches to the lake-set expanses of Central Park, they all came, thrusting the 
black fog back. Birds sang, dogs ran and barked and rolled in the grass, trees 
were bright with wary squirrels eyes. The Battery came, the crumbling old 
first-defense fort standing peaceful now at the southernmost tip of 
Manhattanthe rose-gold of some remembered sunset glowed warm on its bricks as 
it mused in weedy silence over old battles won and nonetheless kept an eye on 
the waters of the harbor, just in case some British cutter should try for a 
landing when the colonists werent looking. Westward over the water, the 
Palisades were there, shadowy cliffs with the Sound behind them, mist-blue and 
mythicallooking as though New Jersey was only a mile away. Eastward and 
westward the bridges were there, the lights of their spanning suspension cables 
coming out blue as stars in the twilight. Seabirds wheeled pale and graceful 
about the towers of the George Washington Bridge and the Verrazano Narrows and 
the iron crowns of the 59th Street Bridge, as the soft air of evening settled 
over Manhattan, muting the city roar to a quiet breathing rumble. Under the 
starlight and the risen Moon, an L-101 arrowed out of LaGuardia Airport and 
soared over the city, screaming its high song of delight in the cold upper airs, 
dragging the thunder along behind
Nita had to make an effort to pull herself out of the waking dream. Kit read on, 
while all around the trees bent in close to hear, and the air flamed clear and 
still as a frozen moment of memory. He read on, naming names in the Speech, 
describing people and places in terrifying depth and detail, making them real 
and keeping them that way by the Books power and the sound of the words. But no 
sign of any terror at the immensity of what he was doing showed in Kits 
faceand that frightened Nita more than the darkness that still surged and 
whispered around them and their circle of trees. Nita could see Kit starting to 
burn with that same unbearable clarity, becoming more real, so much so that he 
was not needing to be visible any more. Slowlysubtly, the Books vivid 
transparency was taking him too. Fred, hanging beside Kit and blazing in 
defiance of the dark, looked pale in comparison. Even Kits shadow glowed, and 
it occurred to Nita that shortly, if this kept up, he wouldnt have one. What do 
I do? she thought. Hes not having trouble, he seems to be getting stronger, not 
weaker, but if this has to go on much longer
Kit kept reading. Nita looked around her and began to see an answer. The 
darkness had not retreated from around them. Out on the Fifth Avenue side of the 
tree-wall, the crashes of cabs were getting more frequent, the howls of perytons 
were closer, the awful clanging hoofbeats seemed almost on top of them. There 
was nowhere to run, and Nita knew with horrible certainty that not all the trees 
in the park would be enough to stop the Starsnuffer when he came there. Keeping 
New York real was one answer to this problem, but not the answer. The darkness 
and the unreality were symptoms, not the cause. Something had to be done about 
him.
The iron hooves paused. For an awful moment there was no sound; howls and 
screeching tires fell silent. Then metal began to smash on stone in a thunderous 
canter, right across the street, and with a horrible screeching neigh the 
riders iron steed smashed into the tree-wall, splintering wood, bowing the 
palisade inward. Nita wanted to shut her mind against the screams of the trees 
broken and flung aside in that first attack, but she could notAll around her 
the remaining trees sank their roots deep in determination, but even they knew 
it would be hopeless. There were enough cracks in the wall that Nita could see 
the black steed rearing back for another smash with its front four hooves, the 
rider smiling, a cold cruel smile that made Nita shudder. One more stroke and 
the wall would be down. Then there would be wildfire in the park, Kit, 
oblivious, kept reading. The iron mount rose to its full height. Fred, Nita 
whispered, I think youd better The sound of heavy hoofbeats, coming from 
behind them, from the park side, choked her silent. He has a twin brother, Nita 
thought. We are dead.
But the hoofbeats divided around the battered circle of trees and poured past in 
a storm of metal and stone, the riders and steeds marble pale or bronze dark, 
every equestrian statue in or near Central Park gathered together into an 
impossible cavalry that charged past Nita and Kit and Fred and into the street 
to give battle. Perytons and cabs screamed as General Sherman from Grand Army 
Plaza crashed in among them with sword raised, closely followed by Joan of Arc 
in her armor, and Simn Bolvar and General Martin right behind. King Wladislaw 
was there in medieval scale mail, galloping on a knights armored charger; Don 
Quixote was there, urging poor broken-down Rosinante to something faster than a 
stumble and shouting swears against the whole breed of sorcerers; Teddy 
Roosevelt was there, cracking off shot after shot at the cabs as his huge horse 
stamped them into the pavement; El Cid Campeador rode there, his bannered lance 
striking down one peryton after another. Behind all these came a wild assortment 
of statues, pouring past the tree circle and into the streeteagles, bears, huge 
owls or foxes, a hunting cat, a crowd of doughboys from the first World War with 
bayoneted riflesall the most warlike of the nearby statuaryeven some not 
warlike, such as several deer and the Ugly Duckling. From down Fifth Avenue came 
striding golden Prometheus from his pedestal in Rockefeller Center, bearing the 
fire he brought for mortals and using it in bolt after bolt to melt down cabs 
where they stood; and from behind him, with a stony crash like the sky falling, 
the great white lions from the steps of the Public Library leaped together and 
threw themselves upon the iron steed and its dark rider. For all its extra legs, 
the mount staggered back and sideways, screaming in a horrible parody of a 
horses neigh and striking feebly at the marble claws that tore its flanks.
Under cover of that tumult of howls and crashes and the clash of arms Nita 
grabbed Kit to pull him away from the tree-wall, behind another row of trees. 
She half expected her hands to go right through him, he was becoming so 
transparent. Unresisting, he got up and followed her, still holding the Book 
open, still reading as if he couldnt stop, or didnt want to, still burning 
more and more fiercely with the inner light of the bright Books power. Fred, 
she said as she pushed Kit down onto the ground again behind a looming old 
maple, Ive got to do this now. I may not be able to do anything else. If a 
diversions needed
(Ill do whats necessary,) Fred said, his voice sounding as awed and frightened 
as Nita felt at the sight of what Kit was becoming. (You be careful too.)
She reached out a hand to Fred. He bobbed close and settled at the tip of one 
finger for a moment, perching there delicately as a firefly, energy touching 
matter for a moment as if to reconfirm the old truth that they were just 
different forms of the same thing. Then he lifted away, turning his attention 
out to the street, to the sound of stone and metal wounding and being wounded; 
and in one quick gesture Nita grabbed the Book of Night with Moon away from Kit 
and bent her head to read.
An undertow of blinding power and irresistible light poured into her, over her, 
drowned her deep. She couldnt fight it. She didnt want to. Nita understood now 
the clear-burning transfiguration of Kits small plain human face and body, for 
it was not the wizard who read the Book; it was the other way around. The silent 
Power that had written the Book reached through it now and read what life had 
written in her body and souljoys, hopes, fears, and failings all togetherthen 
took her intent and read that too, turning it into fact. She was turning the 
bright pages without even thinking about it, finding the place in the Book that 
spoke of creation and rebellion and war among the starsthe words that had once 
before broken the terrible destroying storm of death and darkness that the angry 
Starsnuffer had raised to break the newly made worlds and freeze the seas where 
life was growing, an eternity ago.
I am the wind that troubles the water, Nita said, whispering in the SpeechThe 
whisper smote against the windowed cliffs until they echoed again, and the clash 
and tumult of battle began to grow still as the wind rose at the naming. I am 
the water, and the waves; I am the shore where the waves break in rainbows; I am 
the sunlight that shines in the spray
The power rose with the rhythms of the old, old words, rose with the wind as all 
about her the earth and air and waters of the park began to remember what they 
werematter and energy, created, indestructible, no matter what darkness lay 
over them. I am the trees that drink the light; I am the air of the green 
things breathing; I am the stone that the trees break asunder; I am the molten 
heart of the world
NO! came his scream from beyond the wall of trees, hating, raging, desperate. 
But Nita felt no fear. It was as it had been in the Beginning; all his nos had 
never been able to stand against lifes I Am. All around her trees and stones 
and flesh and metal burned with the power that burned her, self-awareness, which 
death can seem to stop but can never keep from happening, no matter how hard it 
tries. Where will you go? To what place will you wander? she asked 
sorrowfully, or life asked through her, hoping that the lost one might at last 
be convinced to come back to his allegiance. Of all creatures alive and 
otherwise, he had been and still was one of the mightiest. If only his stubborn 
anger would break, his power could be as great for light as for darknessbut it 
could not happen. If after all these weary eons he still had not realized the 
hopelessness of his position, that everywhere he went, life was there before 
himStill she tried, the ancient words speaking her solemnly. in vale or on 
hilltop, still I am there
Silence, silence, except for the rising wind. All things seemed to hold their 
breath to hear the words; even the dark rider, erect again on his iron steed and 
bitter of face, ignoring the tumult around him. His eyes were only for Nita, for 
only her reading held him bound. She tried not to think of him, or of the little 
time remaining before the Moon went out, and gave herself over wholly to the 
reading. The words shook the air and the earth, blinding, burning.
will you sound the seas depth, or climb the mountain? In air or in water, 
still I am there; Will the earth cover you? Will the night hide you? In deep or 
in darkness, still I am there; Will you kindle the nova, or kill the starlight? 
In fire or in deathcold, still I am there
The Moon went out.
Fred cried out soundlessly, and Nita felt the loss of light like a stab in the 
heart. The power fell away from her, quenched, leaving her small and cold and 
human and alone, holding in her hands a Book gone dark from lack of moonlight. 
She and Kit turned desperately toward each other in a darkness becoming complete 
as the flowing blackness put out the last light of the city. Then came the sound 
of low, satisfied laughter and a single clang of a heavy hoof, stepping forward.
Another clang.
Another.
(Now,) Fred said suddenly, (now I understand what all that emitting was practice 
for. No beta, no gamma, no microwave or upper-wavelength ultraviolet or X-rays, 
is that all?)
Fred? Kit said, but Fred didnt waitHe shot upward, blazing, a point of light 
like a falling star falling the wrong way, up and up until his brightness was as 
faint as one more unremarkable star. Fred, where are you going?
(To create a diversion,) his thought came back, getting fainter and fainter. 
(Nita, Kit)
They could catch no more clear thoughts, only a great wash of sorrow and loss, a 
touch of fearand then brightness intolerable erupted in the sky as Fred threw 
his claudication open, emitting all his mass at once as energy, blowing his 
quanta. He could hardly have been more than halfway to the Moon, for a second or 
two later it was alight again, a blazing searing full such as no one had ever 
seen. There was no looking at either Freds blast of light or at the Moon that 
lit trees and statues and the astounded face of the Starsnuffer with a light 
like a silver sun.
The rider spent no more than a moment being astounded. Immediately he lifted his 
steel rod, pointing it at Fred this time, shouting in the Speech cold words that 
were a curse on all light everywhere, from times beginning to its end. But Fred 
burned on, more fiercely, if possible. Evidently not even the Starsnuffer could 
quickly put out a white hole that was liberating all the bound-up energy of five 
or six blue-white giant stars at once.
Nita, Nita, read! Kit shouted at her. Through her tears she looked down at the 
Book again and picked up where she had left off. The dark rider was cursing them 
all in earnest now, knowing that another three lines in the book would bring 
Nita to his name. She had only to pronounce it to cast him out into the unformed 
void beyond the universes, where he had been cast the first time those words 
were spoken.
Cabs and perytons screamed and threw themselves at the barrier in a last wild 
attempt to break through, the statues leaped into the fray again, stone and 
flesh and metal clashed. Nita fell down into the bright power once more, crying, 
but reading in urgent haste so as not to waste the light Fred was giving himself 
to become.
As the power began again to read her, she could hear it reading Kit too, his 
voice matching hers as it had in their first wizardry, small and thin and brave, 
and choked with grief like hers. She couldnt stop crying, and the power burned 
in her tears too, an odd hot feeling, as she cried bitterly for Fred, for Kits 
Lotus, for everything horrible that had happened all that dayall the fair 
things skewed, all the beauty twisted by the dark Lone Power watching on his 
steed. If only there were some way he could be otherwise if he wanted tofor 
here was his name, a long splendid flow of syllables in the Speech, wild and 
courageous in its own wayand it said that he had not always been so hostile; 
that he got tired sometimes of being wicked, but his pride and his fear of being 
ridiculed would never let him stop. Never, forever, said the symbol at the very 
end of his name, the closed circle that binds spells into an unbreakable cycle 
and indicates lives bound the same way. Kit was still reading. Nita turned her 
head in that nova moonlight and looked over her shoulder at the one who 
watchedHis face was set, and bitter still, but weary. He knew he was about to 
be cast out again, frustrated again; and he knew that because of what he had 
bound himself into being, he would never know fulfillment of any kind. Nita 
looked back down to the reading, feeling sorry even for him, opened her mouth 
and along with Kit began to say his name. Dont be afraid to make corrections!
Whether the voice came from her memory or was a last whisper from the blinding 
new star far above, Nita never knew. But she knew what to do. While Kit was 
still on the first part of the name she pulled out her pen, her best pen that 
Fred had saved and changed. She clicked it open, The metal still tingled against 
her skin, the ink at the point still glittered oddlythe same glitter as the ink 
with which the bright Book was written, Nita bent quickly over the Book and, 
with the pen, in lines of light, drew from that final circle an arrow pointing 
upward, the way out, the symbol that said change could happenif, only ifand 
together they finished the Starsnuffers name in the Speech, said the new last 
syllable, made it real.
The wind was gone. Fearfully Nita and Kit turned around, looked at Fifth 
Avenueand found it empty. The creeping blackness was gone with the breaking of 
its masters magic and the sealing of the worldgate he had held open. Silent and 
somber, the statues stood among the bodies of the slaincrushed cabs and 
perytons, shattered treesthen one by one each paced off into the park or down 
Fifth Avenue, back to its pedestal and its long quiet regard of the city. The 
howl of sirens, lost for a while in the wind that had risen, now grew loud 
again. Kit and Nita stood unmoving as the trees ringing them moved away to their 
old places, sinking roots back into torn-up earth and raising branches to the 
burning Moon. Some ninety-three million miles away the Sun had come quietly back 
to life. But its light would not reach for another eight minutes yet, and as 
Nita and Kit watched, slowly the star in the heavens faded, and the Moon faded 
with itfrom daylight to silver fire, to steel-gray glow, to earthlight shimmer, 
to nothing.
The star went yellow, and red, and died. Nothing was left but a stunning, wide 
aurora, great curtains and rays of rainbow light shivering and cracking all 
across the golden-glowing city night.
He forgot the high-energy radiation again, Kit said, tears constricting his 
voice to a whisper.
Nita closed the Book she held in her hands, now dark and ordinary-looking except 
for the black depths of its covers, the faint shimmer of starlight on page 
edges. He always does, she said, scrubbing at her eyes, and then offered Kit 
the Book. He shook his head, and Nita dropped it into her backpack and slung it 
over her back again. You think hell take the chance? she said.
Huh? Oh. Kit shook his head unhappily. I dunno. Old habits die hard. If he 
wants to . . . 
Above them the Moon flicked on again, full and silver-bright through the blue 
and red shimmer of the auroral curtain. They stood gazing at it, a serene, 
remote brilliance, seeming no different than it had been an hour before, a night 
before, when everything had been as it should be. And now
Lets get out of here, Nita said.
They walked out of the park unhindered by the cops and firemen who were already 
arriving in squad cars and fire trucks and paramedic ambulances. Evidently no 
one felt that two grade-school kids could possibly have anything to do with a 
street full of wrecked cabs and violently uprooted trees. As they crossed Fifth 
Avenue and the big mesh-sided Bomb Squad truck passed them, Nita bent to pick up 
a lone broken-off twig of oak, and stared at it sorrowfully. There wasnt even 
anything left of him, she said as they walked east on Sixty-fourth, heading 
back to the Pan Am Building and the timeslide.
Only the light, Kit said, looking up at the aurora. Even that was fading now.
Silently they made their way to Grand Central and entered the Pan Am Building at 
the mezzanine level. The one guard was sitting with his back to them and his 
feet on the desk, reading the Post. Kit went wearily over to one elevator, laid 
a hand on it, and spoke a word or three to it in the Speech. Its doors slid 
silently open, and they got in and headed upstairs.
The restaurant level was dark, for the place served only lunch, and there was no 
one to see them go back up to the roof. Kit opened the door at the top of the 
stairs, and together they walked out into peace and darkness and a wind off the 
ocean. A helicopter was moored in the middle of the pad with steel pegs and 
cables, crouching on its skids and staring at them with clear, sleepy, 
benevolent eyes. The blue high-intensity marker lights blazed about it like the 
circle of a protection spell. Nita looked away, not really wanting to think 
about spells or anything else to do with wizardry. The book said it would be 
hard. That I didnt mind. But I hurt! And wheres the good partThere was 
supposed to be happiness too . . . 
The bright Book was heavy on her back as she looked out across the night.
All around, for miles and miles, was glittering light, brilliant motion, shining 
under the Moon; lights of a thousand colors gleaming from windows, glowing on 
streets, blazing from the headlights of cars. The city, breathing, burning, 
living the life they had preserved. Ten million lives and more. If something 
should happen to all that lifehow terrible. Nita gulped for control as she 
remembered Freds words of just this morning, an eternity ago. And this was what 
being a wizard was about. Keeping terrible things from happening, even when it 
hurt. Not just power, or control of what ordinary people couldnt control, or 
delight in being able to make strange things happen. Those were side effectsnot 
the reason, not the purpose.
She could give it up, she realized suddenly. In the recovery of the bright Book, 
she and Kit had more than repaid the energy invested in their training. If they 
chose to lay the Art aside, if she did, no one would say a word. She would be 
left in peace. Magic does not live in the unwilling soul.
Yet never to hear a tree talk again, or a stone, or a star . . . 
On impulse Nita held out her hands and closed her eyes. Even without the rowan 
rod she could feel the moonfire on her skin as a tree might feel it. She could 
taste the restored sunlight that produced it, feel the soundless roar of the 
ancient atomic furnace that had burned just this way while her world was still a 
cloud of gas, nebulous and unformed. And ever so faintly she could taste a 
rainbow spatter of high-energy radiation, such as a white hole might leave after 
blowing its quanta.
She opened her eyes, found her hands full of moonlight that trembled like bright 
water, its surface sheened with fading aurora-glow. All right, she said after 
a moment. All right. She opened her hands to let the light run out. Kit? she 
said, saying his name in the Speech.
He had gone to stand beside the helicopter and was standing with one hand laid 
against its side. It stared at him mutely. Yeah, He said, and patted the cool 
metal, and left the chopper to rejoin Nita. I guess we pass the test.
They took their packs off and got out the materials necessary for the timeslide. 
When the lithium-cadmium battery and the calculator chip and the broken 
teacup-handle were in place, Kit and Nita started the spelland without warning 
were again caught up by the augmenting power of the bright Book and plunged more 
quickly than they expected into the wizardry. It was like being on a slide, 
though they were the ones who held still, and the events of the day as seen from 
the top of the Pan Am Building rushed backward past them, a high-speed 3-D movie 
in reverse. Blinding white fire and the nova Moon grew slowly in the sky, 
flared, and were gone. The Moon, briefly out, came on again. Darkness flowed 
backward through the suddenly open worldgate, following its master on his huge 
dark mount, who also stepped backward and vanished through the gate. Kit and 
Nita saw themselves burst out of the roof door, blurred with speed; saw 
themselves run backward over the railing, a bright line of light pacing them as 
they plunged out into the dark air, dove backward through the gate, and vanished 
with it The Sun came up in the west and fled back across the sky. Men in 
coveralls burst out of the roof door and unpegged the Helicopter; two of them 
got into it and it took off backwards. Clouds streamed and boiled past, jets 
fell backward into LaGuardia. The Sun stood high.
The slide let them go, and Kit and Nita sat back gasping. What time have you 
got? Kit said when he had enough breath.
Nita glanced at her watch. Nine forty-five.
Nine forty-five! But we were supposed to
Its this Book, it makes everything work too well. At nine forty-five we were
They heard voices in the stairwell, behind the closed door. Kit and Nita stared 
at each other. Then they began frantically picking up the items left from their 
spelling. Nita paused with the lithium-cadmium battery in her hand as she 
recognized one of those voices coming up the stairs. She reared back, took aim, 
and threw the heavy battery at the closed door, hard. crack!
Kit looked at her, his eyes wide, and understood. Quick, behind there, he 
said. Nita ran to scoop up the battery, then ducked around after Kit and 
crouched down with him behind the back of the stairwell. There was a long, long 
pause before the door opened and footsteps could be heard on the gravel. Kit and 
Nita edged around the side of the stairwell again to peer around the corner. Two 
small, nervous-looking figures were heading for the south facing rail in the 
bright sunlight. A dark-haired girl, maybe thirteen, wearing jeans and a shirt 
and a down vest; a dark-haired boy, small and a touch stocky, also in jeans and 
parka, twelve years old or so. The boy held a broken-off piece of antenna, and 
the girl held a peeled white stick, and they were being paced by a brilliant 
white spark like a will-o-the-wisp plugged into too much current and about to 
blow out.
 There are no accidents,  Kit whispered sadly.
The tears stung Nitas eyes again. Gbye, Fred, she said softly in English, 
for fear the Speech should attract his attention, or hers.
Silently and unseen, Kit and Nita slipped through the door and went downstairs 
for the shuttle and the train home.







9. Timeheart
The walk home from the bus stop was weary and quiet. Three blocks from Nitas 
house, they reached the corner where their ways usually parted. Kit paused 
there, waiting for the light to change, though no traffic was in sight. Call me 
tomorrow? he said.
What for? Nita felt like saying, for there were no more spells in the offing, 
and she was deadly tired. Still . . . Its your turn, she said.
Huh. Right, The light changed, and Kit headed across the street to Nitas 
left. In the middle of the street he turned, walking backward. We should call 
Tom and Carl, he shouted, sounding entirely exhausted.
Yeah. The light changed again, in Nitas favor; Kit jumped up onto the 
sidewalk on the other side and headed south toward his place. Nita crossed east, 
watching Kit as she went. Though the look on his face was tired and sad, all the 
rest of his body wore the posture of someone whos been through so much fear 
that fear no longer frightens him. Whys he so afraid of getting beat up? Nita 
thought. Nobody in their right mind would mess with him.
In midstep she stopped, watching him walk away. How about that. How bout that. 
He got what he asked for.
After a second she started walking home again. The weight at her back suddenly 
reminded her of something. (Kit!) she called silently, knowing he could hear 
even though he was now out of sight. (What about the Book?)
(Hang on to it,) he answered. (Well give it to the Advisories. Or theyll know 
what to do with it.)
(Right. See ya later.)
(See ya.)
Nita was so tired that it took three or four minutes before the identity of 
blond person walking up East Clinton toward her registered at all. By then 
Joanne was within yelling distance, but she didnt yell at Nita at all, much to 
Nitas surprise. This was such an odd development that Nita looked at Joanne 
carefully as they got closer, something she had never done before There was 
something familiar about Joanne today, a look that Nita couldnt quite pin 
downand then she recognized the expression and let out a tired unhappy breath. 
The look was less marked, less violent and terrible than that of the 
pride-frozen misery of the dark rider, but there all the same. The angry fear 
was there toothe terror of what had been until now no threat but was now out of 
control; the look of the rider about to be cast out by a power he had thought 
himself safe from, the look of a bully whose victim suddenly wasnt a victim any 
more.
Nita slowed down and stopped where she was, in the middle of the sidewalk, 
watching Joanne. Even he can be different now, she thought, her heart beating 
fasther own old fear wasnt entirely gone. But that was partly because we gave 
him the chance.
She stood there, watching Joanne slow down warily as she got closer to Nita. 
Nita sweated. Doing something that would be laughed about behind her back was 
almost as bad as being beaten up. But she stood still until Joanne came to a 
stop four or five feet away from her. Well? Joanne said, her voice full of 
anger and uncertainty.
I dont know what to say to her, we have absolutely nothing in common, Nita 
thought frantically. But it has to start somewhere. She swallowed and did her 
best to look Joanne in the eye, calmly and not in threat. Come on over to my 
place after supper sometime and look through my telescope, she said. Ill show 
you Jupiters moons. Or Mars
Joanne made that old familiar haughty face and brushed past Nita and away. Why 
would I ever want to go to your house? You dont even have a color TV.
Nita stood still, listening to Joannes footsteps hurrying away, a little faster 
every secondand slowly began to realize that shed gotten what she asked for 
toothe ability to break the cycle of anger and loneliness, not necessarily for 
others, but at least for herself. It wouldnt even take the Speech; plain words 
would do it, and the magic of reaching out, It would take a long time, much 
longer than something simple like breaking the walls between the worlds, and it 
would cost more effort than even the reading of the Book of Night with Moon. But 
it would be worth itand eventually it would work. A spell always works.
Nita went home.
That night after supper she slipped outside to sit in Liuseds shadow and watch 
the sky. The tree caught her moon and, after greeting her, was quietuntil about 
ten oclock, when it and every other growing thing in sign suddenly trembled 
violently as if stricken at the root. They had felt the Sun go out.
(Its all right,) she said silently, though for someone whose tears were 
starting again, it was an odd thing to say. She waited the eight minutes with 
them, saw the Moon blink out, and leaned back against the rowan trunk, 
sheltering from the wind that rose in the darkness. Branches tossed as if in a 
hurricane, leaves hissed in anguishand then the sudden new star in the heavens 
etched every leafs shadow sharp against the ground and set the Moon on fire. 
Nita squinted up at the pinpoint of brilliance, unwilling to look away though 
her eyes leaked tears of pain. Shed thought, that afternoon, that living 
through the loss a second time would be easier. She was wrong. The tears kept 
falling long after the star went out, and the Moon found its light again, and 
the wind died to a whisper. She stopped crying long enough to go back inside and 
go to bed, and she was sure she would start again immediately. But she was wrong 
about that too. Exhaustion beat down grief so fast that she was asleep almost as 
soon as her head touched the pillow under which she had hidden the Book of Night 
with Moon . . . 
The place where they stood was impossible, for theres no place in Manhattan 
where the water level in the East River comes right up to the railed path that 
runs alongside it. There they stood, though, leaning with their backs against 
the railing, gazing up at the bright city that reared against the silver sky, 
while behind them the river whispered and chuckled and slapped its banks. The 
sound of laughter came down the morning wind from the apartments and the 
brownstones and the towers of steel and crystal; the seabirds wheeled and cried 
over the white piers and jetties of the Manhattan shoreline, and from somewhere 
down the riverside came the faint sound of musicquiet rock, a deep steady 
backbeat woven about with guitars and voices in close harmony. A jogger went by 
on the running path, puffing, followed by a large black and white dog galloping 
to catch up with its master.
Are we early, or are they late? Kit asked, leaning back farther still to watch 
an overflying Learjet do barrel-roll after barrel-roll for sheer joy of being 
alive.
Who cares? Nita said, leaning back too and enjoying the way the music and the 
city sounds and the Learjets delighted scream all blended. Anyway, this is 
Timeheart. Theres nothing here but Now . . . 
They turned their backs on the towers and the traffic and the laughter, and out 
across the shining water toward Brooklyn and Long Island. Neither was there just 
thenprobably someone else in Timeheart was using them, and Kit and Nita didnt 
need them at the moment. The silver expanse of the Atlantic shifted and 
glittered from their feet to the radiant horizon,. Far off to their right, south 
and west of the Battery, the Statue of Liberty held up her torch and her tablet 
and looked calmly out toward the sunrise as they did, waiting. Nita was the 
first to see the dark bulge out on the water, She nudged Kit and pointed. Look, 
a shark!
He glanced at her, amused. Even here I dont think sharks have wheels . . . 
The Lotus came fast, hydroplaning. Water spat up from its wheels as it skidded 
up to the railing and fishtailed sideways, grinning, spraying them both. On its 
wildly waving antenna rode a spark of light. Nita smiled at her friend, who 
danced off the antenna to rest momentarily on one of her fingers like a 
hundred-watt firefly. Well, Nita said, is it confusing being dead?
Fred chuckled a rainbow, up the spectrum and down again. Not very. Beside him, 
the Lotus stood up on its hind wheels, putting its front ones on the railing so 
that Kit could scratch it behind the headlights.
We brought it, Kit said.
Good, said the Lotus, as Nita got the bright Book out of her backpack and handed 
it to Kit. The Powers want to put it away safe. Though the precaution may not 
really be necessary, after what you did.
It worked? Hes changed? Nita said.
Fred made a spatter of light, a gesture that felt like the shake of a head. Not 
changed, just made otherwise, as if hed been that way from the beginning. He 
has back the option hed decided was lostto put aside his anger, to build 
instead of damn . . . 
Then if he uses that optionyou mean every place could be like this some day? 
Kit looked over his shoulder at the city and all the existence behind it, 
preserved in its fullest beauty while still growing and becoming greater.
Possibly. What he did remains. Entropys still here, and death. They look like 
waste and horror to us now. But if he chooses to have them be a blessing on the 
worlds, instead of angers cursewho knows where those gates will lead then? . . 
. The Lotus sounded pleased by the prospect.
Kit held out the Book of Night with Moon. Most delicately the Lotus opened 
fanged jaws to take it, then rubbed its face against Kit and dropped to all four 
wheels on the water. It smiled at them both, a chrome smile, silver and 
sanguinethen backed a little, turned and was off, spraying Kit and Nita again.
Fred started to follow, but Nita caught him in cupped hands, holding him back 
for a moment. Fred! Did we do right?
Even here she couldnt keep the pain out of her question, the fear that she 
could somehow have prevented his death. But Fred radiated a serene and wondering 
joy that took her breath and reassured her and filled her with wonder to match 
his, all at once. Go find out, he said.
She opened her hands and he flew out of them like a spark blown on the winda 
brightness zipping after the Lotus, losing itself against the silver of the sea, 
gone. Nita turned around to lean on the railing again, after a moment Kit turned 
with her. They breathed out, relaxing, and settled back to gaze at the city 
transfigured, the city preserved at the heart of Time, as all things loved are 
preserved in the hearts that care for themgazed up into the radiance, the life, 
the light unending, the light . . . 
 . . . the light was right in her eyes, mostly because Dairine had yanked the 
curtain open. Her sister was talking loudly, and Nita turned her head and quite 
suddenly felt what was not under her pillow. You gonna sleep all morning? Get 
up, its ten thirty! The Sun went out last night, you should see it it was on 
the news. And somebody blew up Central Park; and Kit Rodriguez called, he wants 
you to call him back. How come you keep calling each other, anyhow? Halfway out 
the bedroom door, realization dawned in her sisters eyes. Maaaaa! she yelled 
out the door, strangling on her own laughter. Nitas got a boyfriend.
Oh, jeez, Dairiiiiime!
The wizard threw her pillow at her sister, got up, and went to breakfast.
