"But that's the least of swindles She's put over on you. She conned you from the moment you first saw Her and long before. She cheated both ways from the ace, forced you to pick the shell with the pea, sent you like any mark anxious for the best of it, cooled you off when you started to suspect, herded you back into line and to your planned fate—and made you like it. She's never fussy about method and would con the Virgin Mary and make a pact with the Old One all in one breath, did it suit Her purpose. Oh, you got paid, yes, and good measure to boot; there's nothing small about Her. But its time you knew you were conned. Mind you, I'm not criticizing Her, I'm applauding—and I helped...save for one queasy moment when I felt sorry for the victim. But you were so conned you wouldn't listen, thank any saints who did. I lost my nerve for a bit, thinking that you were going to a sticky death with your innocent eyes wide. But She was smarter than I am. She always has been.
"Now! I like Her. I respect Her. I admire Her. I even love Her a bit. All of Her, not just Her pretty aspects but also all the impurities that make Her steel as hard as it must be. How about you, sir? What's your feeling about Her now...knowing She conned you, knowing what She is?"
I was still sitting. My drink was by me, untouched all this long harangue.
I took it and stood up. "Here's to the grandest old bag in twenty universes!"
Rufo bounced over the desk again, grabbed his glass. "Say that loud and often! And to Her, She'd love it! May She be blessed by God, Whoever He is, and kept safe. We'll never see another like Her, mores the pity! -- for we need them by the gross!"
We tossed it down and smashed our grasses. Rufo fetched fresh ones, poured, settled in his chair, and said, "Now for serious drinking. Did I ever tell you about the time my—"
"You did. Rufo, I want to know about this swindle."
"Such as?"
"Well, I can see much of it. Take that first time we flew—"
He shuddered. "Lets not."
"I never wondered then. But, since Star can do this, we could have skipped Igli, the Horned Ghosts, the marsh, the time wasted with Jocko—"
"Wasted?"
"For her purpose. And the rats and hogs and possibly the dragons. Flown directly from that first Gate to the second. Right?"
He shook his head. "Wrong."
"I don't see it."
"Assuming that She could fly us that far, a question I hope never to settle, She could have flown us to the Gate She preferred. What would you have done then? If popped almost directly from Nice to Karth-Hokesh? Charged out and fought like a wolverine, as you did? Or said ‘Miss, you've made a mistake. Show me the exit from this Fun House—I'm not laughing.' "
"Well—I wouldn't have bugged out"
"But would you have won? Would you have been at that keen edge of readiness it took?"
"I see. Those first rounds were live ammo exercises in my training. Or was it live ammo? Was all that first part swindle? Maybe with hypnotism, to make it feel right? God knows she's expert. No danger till we reached the Black Tower?"
He shuddered again. "No, no! Oscar, any of that could have killed us. I never fought harder in my life, nor was ever more frightened. None of it could be skipped. I don't understand all Her reasons. I'm not Her Wisdom. But She would never risk Herself unless necessary. She would sacrifice ten million brave men, were it needed, as the cheaper price. She knows what She's worth. But She fought beside us with all She has—you saw! Because it had to be."
"I still don't understand all of it."
"Nor will you. Nor will I. She would have sent you in alone, had it been possible. And at that last supreme danger, that thing called ‘Eater of Souls' because it had done just that to many braves before you...had you lost to it, She and I would have tried to fight our way out—I was ready, any moment; I couldn't tell you—and if we had escaped—unlikely—She would have shed no tears for you. Or not many. Then worked another twenty or thirty or a hundred years to find and con and train anther champion—and fought just as hard by his side. She has courage, that cabbage. She knew how thin our chances were; you didn't. Did She flinch?"
"No."
"But you were the key, first to be found, then ground to fit. You yourself act, you're never a puppet, or you could never have won. She was the only one who could nudge and wheedle such a man and place him where he would act; no lesser person than She could handle the scale of hero She needed. So She searched until She found him...and honed him fine. Tell me, why did you take up the sword? It's not common in America."
"What?" I had to think. Reading ‘King Arthur' and ‘The Three Musketeers', and Burroughs wonderful Mars stories—But every kid does that. "When we moved to Florida, I was a Scout. The Scoutmaster was a Frenchman, taught high school. He started some of us lads. I liked it, it was something I did well. Then in college—"
"Ever wonder why that immigrant got that job in that town? And volunteered for Scout work? Or why your college had a fencing team when many don't? No matter, if you had gone elsewhere, there would have been fencing in a YMCA or something. Didn't you have more combat than most of your category?"
"Hell, yes!"
"Could have been killed anytime, too—and She would have turned to another candidate already being honed. Son, I don't know how you were selected, nor now you were converted from a young punk into the hero you potentially were. Not my job. Mine was simpler—just more dangerous—your groom and your ‘eyes-behind.' Look around. Fancy quarters for a servant, eh?"
"Well, yes. I had almost forgotten that you were supposed to be my groom."
" ‘Supposed,' hell! I was. I went three times to Nevia as Her servant, training for it. Jocko doesn't know to this day. If I went back, I would be welcome, I think. But only in the kitchen."
"But why? That part seems silly."
"Was it? When we snared you, your ego was in feeble shape, it had to be built up—and calling you ‘Boss' and serving your meals while I stood and you sat, with Her, was part of it." He gnawed a knuckle and looked annoyed. "I still think She witched your first two arrows. Someday I'd like a return match—with Her not around."
"I may fool you. I've been practicing."
"Well, forget it. We got the Egg, that's the important thing. And here's this bottle and that's important, too." He poured again. "Will that be all, ‘Boss'?"
"Damn you, Rufo! Yes, you sweet old scoundrel. You've straightened me out. Or conned me again, I don't know which."
"No con, Oscar, by the blood we've shed. I've told the truth as straight as I know it, though it hurt me. I didn't want to, you're my friend. Walking that rocky road with you I shall treasure all the days of my life."
"Uh...yes. Me, too. All of it."
"Then why are you frowning?"
"Rufo, I understand her now—as well as an ordinary person can—and respect her utterly...and love her more than ever. But I can't be anybody's fancy man. Not even here."
"I'm glad I didn't have to say that. Yes. She's right She's always right, damn Her! You must leave. For both of you. Oh, She wouldn't be hurt too much but staying would ruin you, in time. Destroy you, if you're stubborn.
"I had better get back—and toss my shoes." I felt better, as if I had told the surgeon: Go ahead. Amputate.
"Don't do that!"