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Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 172

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Finally it settled down into an argument - or rather discussion; there could be no argument, as they all deferred to Mrs Jennings's judgement concerning liaison. There seemed to be no satisfactory way to maintain contact with the real world, and Mrs Jennings was unwilling to start until it was worked out. The difficulty was this: not being black magicians, not having signed a compact with

Old Nick, they were not citizens of the Dark Kingdom and could not travel through it with certain impunity.

Bodie turned to Jedson. How about Ellen Megeath?' he inquired doubtfully.

Ellen? Why, yes, of course. She would do it. I'll telephone her. Mrs Jennings, do any of your neighbours have a phone?'

Never mind,' Bodie told him, just think about her for a few minutes so that I can get a line-' He stared at Jedson's face for a moment, then disappeared suddenly.

Perhaps three minutes later Ellen Megeath dropped lightly out of nothing. Mr

Bodie will be along in a few minutes,' she said. He stopped to buy a packet of cigarettes.' Jedson took her over and presented her to Mrs Jennings. She did look sickly, and I could understand Jedson's concern. Every few minutes she would swallow and choke a little, as if bothered by an enlarged thyroid.

As soon as Jack was back they got right down to details. He had explained to

Ellen what they planned to do, and she was entirely willing. She insisted that one more session of magic would do her no harm. There was no advantage in waiting; they prepared to depart at once. Mrs Jennings related the marching orders. Ellen, you will need to follow me in trance, keeping in close rapport. I think you will find that couch near the fireplace a good place to rest your body. Jack, you will remain here and guard the portal.' The chimney of Mrs

Jennings's living room fireplace was to be used as most convenient. You will keep in touch with us through Ellen.'

But, Granny, I'll be needed in the Half-'

No, Jack.' She was gently firm. You are needed here much more. Someone has to guard the way and help us back, you know. Each to his task.'

He muttered a bit, but gave in. She went on, I think that is all. Ellen and Jack here; Joseph, Royce, and myself to make the trip. You will have nothing to do but wait, Archibald, but we won't be longer than ten minutes, world time, if we are to come back.' She bustled away towards the kitchen, saying something about the unguent and calling back to Jack to have the candles ready. I hurried after her.

'What do you mean, I demanded, about me having nothing to do but wait? I'm going along!'

She turned and looked at me before replying, troubled concern in her magnificent eyes. I don't see how that can be, Archibald.'

Jedson had followed us and now took me by the arm. See here, Archie, do be sensible. It's utterly out of the question. You're not a magician.'

I pulled away from him. Neither are you.'

Not in a technical sense, perhaps, but I know enough to be useful. Don't be a stubborn fool, man; if you come, you'll simply handicap us.'

That kind of an argument is hard to answer and manifestly unfair. How?' I persisted.

h.e.l.l's bells, Archie, you're young and strong and willing, and there is no one I would rather have at my back in a roughhouse, but this is not a job for courage, or even intelligence alone. It calls for special knowledge and experience.'

Well,' I answered, Mrs Jennings has enough of that for a regiment. But - if you'll pardon me, Mrs Jennings! - she is old and feeble. I'll be her muscles if her strength fails.'

Joe looked faintly amused, and I could have kicked him. But that is not what is required in-'

Dr Worthington's double-ba.s.s rumble interrupted him from somewhere behind us. It occurs to me, brother, that there may possibly be a use for our young friend's impetuous ignorance. There are times when wisdom is too cautious.'

Mrs Jennings put a stop to it. Wait - all of you,' she commanded, and trotted over to a kitchen cupboard. This she opened, moved aside a package of rolled oats, and took down a small leather sack. It was filled with slender sticks.

She cast them on the floor, and the three of them huddled around the litter, studying the patterns. Cast them again,' Joe insisted. She did so.

I saw Mrs Jennings and the doctor nod solemn agreement to each other. Jedson shrugged and turned away. Mrs Jennings addressed me, concern in her eyes. You will go,' she said softly. It is not safe, but you will go.'

We wasted no more time. The unguent was heated and we took turns rubbing it on each other's backbone. Bodie, as gatekeeper, sat in the midst of his pentacles, mekagrans, and runes, and intoned monotonously from the great book. Worthington elected to go in his proper person, ebony in a breechcloth, parasymbols scribed on him from head to toe, his grandfather's head cradled in an elbow.

There was some discussion before they could decide on a final form for Joe, and the metamorphosis was checked and changed several times. He finished up with paper-thin grey flesh stretched over an obscenely distorted skull, a sloping back, the thin flanks of an animal, and a long, boy tail, which he twitched incessantly. But the whole composition was near enough to human to create a revulsion much greater than would be the case for a more outlandish shape. I gagged at the sight of him, but he was pleased. There!' he exclaimed in a voice like scratched tin. You've done a beautiful job, Mrs Jennings. Asmodeus would not know me from his own nephew.'

I trust not,' she said. Shall we go?'

How about Archie?'

It suits me to leave him as he is.'

Then how about your own transformation?'

I'll take care of that,' she answered, somewhat tartly. Take your places.'

Mrs Jennings and I rode double on the same broom, with me in front, facing the candle stuck in the straws. I've noticed All Hallow's Eve decorations which show the broom with the handle forward and the brush trailing. That is a mistake.

Custom is important in these matters. Royce and Joe were to follow close behind us. Seraphin leaped quickly to his mistress' shoulder and settled himself, his whiskers quivering with eagerness.

Bodie p.r.o.nounced the word, our candle flared up high, and we were off. I was frightened nearly to panic, but tried not to show it as I clung to the broom.

The fireplace gaped at us, and swelled to a monster arch. The fire within roared up like a burning forest and swept us along with it. As we swirled up I caught a glimpse of a salamander dancing among the flames, and felt sure that it was my own - the one that had honoured me with its approval and sometimes graced my new fireplace. It seemed a good omen.

We had left the portal far behind - if the word behind' can be used in a place where directions are symbolic - the shrieking din of the fire was no longer with us, and I was beginning to regain some part of my nerve. I felt a rea.s.suring hand at my waist, and turned my head to speak to Mrs Jennings.

I nearly fell off the broom.

When we left the house there had mounted behind me an old, old woman, a shrunken, wizened body kept alive by an indomitable spirit. She whom I now saw was a young woman, strong, perfect, and vibrantly beautiful. There is no way to describe her; she was without defect of any sort, and imagination could suggest no improvement.

Have you ever seen the bronze Diana of the Woods? She was something like that, except that metal cannot catch the live dynamic beauty that I saw.

But it was the same woman!

Mrs Jennings - Amanda Todd, that was - at perhaps her twenty-fifth year, when she had reached the full maturity of her gorgeous womanhood, and before time had softened the focus of perfection.

I forgot to be afraid. I forgot everything except that I was in the presence of the most compelling and dynamic female had ever known. I forgot that she was at least sixty years older than myself, and that her present form was simply a triumph of sorcery. I suppose if anyone had asked me at that time if I were in love with Amanda Jennings, I would have answered, Yes!' But at the time my thoughts were much too confused to be explicit. She was there, and that was sufficient.

She smiled, and her eyes were warm with understanding. She spoke, and her voice was the voice I knew, even though it was rich contralto in place of the accustomed clear, thin soprano. Is everything all right, Archie?'

Yes,' I answered in a shaky voice. Yes, Amanda, everything is all right!'

As for the Half World- How can I describe a place that has no single matching criterion with what I have known? How can I speak of things for which no words have been invented? One tells of things unknown in terms of things which are known. Here there is no relations.h.i.+p by which to link; all is irrelevant. All I can hope to do is tell how matters affected my human senses, how events influenced my human emotions, knowing that there are two falsehoods involved - the falsehood I saw and felt, and the falsehood that I tell.

I have discussed this matter with Jedson, and he agrees with me that the difficulty is insuperable, yet some things may be said with a partial element of truth - truth of a sort, with respect to how the Half World impinged on me.

There is one striking difference between the real world and the Half World. In the real world there are natural laws which persist through changes of custom and culture; in the Half World only custom has any degree of persistence, and of natural law there is none. Imagine, if you please, a condition in which the head of a state might repeal the law of gravitation and have his decree really effective - a place where King Canute could order back the sea and have the waves obey him. A place where up' and down' were matters of opinion, and directions might read as readily in days or colours as in miles. And yet it was not a meaningless anarchy, for they were constrained to obey their customs as unavoidably as we comply with the rules of natural phenomena.

We made a sharp turn to the left in the formless greyness that surrounded us in order to survey the years for a sabbat meeting. It was Amanda's intention to face the Old One with the matter directly rather than to search aimlessly through ever changing mazes of the Half World for a being hard to identify at best.

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Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 172 summary

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