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"Wrong again," Rod said brightly. "It was mine. And Agatha had nothing to do
with tinkering with your lab."
Galen was silent for a pace. Then his eyes narrowed. "I' truth, I should ha' seen
that she doth lack even so much knowledge as to play so learned a vandal. Was it
thou didst seek explosion, Lord Warlock? Why, then?"
" 'Cause I didn't think you'd pay any attention to a knock on the door," Rod
explained, "except maybe to say, 'Go away.' "
Galen nodded slowly. "So, thou didst court disaster to bring me out from my
researches long enough to bandy words with thee." /
"That's the right motive," Rod agreed, "but the wrong culprit. Actually, not one
single one of us laid a finger on your glassware."
Galen glanced quickly at the two witches. "Thou'lt not have me believe they took
such risks, doing such finely detailed work, with only their minds?"
"Not that they couldn't have," Rod hastened to point out. "I've seen my wife
make grains of wheat dance." He smiled fondly, remembering the look on
Magnus's face when Gwen did it. "And Agatha's admitted she's healed wounds
by making the tiniest tissues flow back together but this time neither of them
did."
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"Assuredly, not thou & "
" 'Twas thy son," Agatha grated.
The laboratory was silent as the old wizard stared into her eyes, the color
draining from his face.
Then it flooded back, and he erupted. "What vile falsehood is trüs? What
deception dost thou seek to work now, thou hag with no principle to thy name of
repute? How dost thou seek to work on my heart with so blatant a lie? Depraved,
evil witch! Thou hast no joy in life but the wreaking of others' misery! Fool I
was, to ever look on thy face, greater fool to e'er seek to aid thee! Get thee gone,
get thee hence!" His trembling arm reared up to cast a curse that would blast her.
"Get thee to..."
"It's the truth," Rod snapped.
Galen stared at him for the space of a heartbeat.
It was long enough to get a word in. "He's the son of another Galen, and another
Agatha, in another world just like this one. You know there are other universes,
don't you?"
Galen's arm hung aloft, forgotten; excitement kindled in his eyes. "I had
suspected it, aye the whiles my body did lie like to wood, and my spirit lay
open to every slightest impress. Distantly did I perceive it, dimly through chaos,
a curving presence that& But nay, what nonsense is this! Dost thou seek to tell
me that, in one such other universe, I do live again?"
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" 'Again' might be stretching it," Rod hedged, "especially since your opposite
number is dead now. But that a Galen, just like you, actually did live, yes
except he seems to have made a different choice when he was a youth."
Galen said nothing, but his gaze strayed to Agatha.
She returned it, her face like flint.
"For there was an Agatha in that other universe, too," Rod said softly, "and they
met, and married, and she bore a son."
Galen still watched Agatha, his expression blank.
"They named the son Harold," Rod went on, "and he grew to be a fine young
warlock but more 'war' than 'lock.' Apparently, he enlisted, and fought in quite
a few battles. He survived, but his parents passed away probably from sheer
worry, with a son in the infantry& "
Galen snapped out of his trance. "Do not seek to cozen me, Master Warlock!
How could they have died, when this Agatha and I& " His voice dwindled and
his gaze drifted as he slid toward the new thought.
"Time is no ranker, Master Wizard; he's under no compulsion to march at the
same pace in each place he invests. But more importantly, events can differ in
different universes or Harold would never have been born. And if the Galen
and Agatha of his universe could marry, they could also die from accident, or
disease, or perhaps even one of those battles that their son survived. I'm sure he'd
be willing to tell you, if you asked him."
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Galen glanced quickly about the chamber, and seemed to solidify inside his own
skin.
"Try," Rod breathed. "Gwen can't hear him, nor can any of the other witches
save Agatha. But if you're the analog of his father, you should be able to& "
"Nay!" Galen boomed. "Am I become so credulous as to hearken to the tales of a
stripling of thirty?"
"Thirty-two," Rod corrected.
"A child, scarcely more! I credit not a word of this tale of thine!"
"Ah, but we haven't come to the evidence yet." Rod grinned. "Because, you see,
Harold didn't survive one of those battles."
Galen's face neutralized again.
"He was wounded, and badly," Rod pressed. "He barely managed to crawl into a
cave and collapse there and his spirit drifted loose. But his body didn't. No, it
lay in a lasting, deathlike sleep; so his spirit had no living body to inhabit, but
also had not been freed by death and couldn't soar to seek Heaven. But that spirit
was a warlock, so it didn't have to just haunt the cave where its body lay. No, it
went adventuring out into the realm of chaos, seeking out that
curving'presence you spoke of, searching for its parents' spirits, seeking aid& "
"And found them," Galen finished in a harsh whisper.
Rod nodded. "One, at least and now he's found the other."
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Galen's glances darted around the chamber again; he shuddered, shrinking more
tightly into his robes. Slowly then, his frosty glare returned to Rod. "Thou hadst
no need to speak of this to me, Lord Warlock. 'Twill yield thee no profit."
"Well, I did think Harold deserved a chance to at least try to meet you as you
became in this universe. Just in case."
Galen held his glare, refusing the bait.
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