"Did you do that?" I asked him, gesturing toward the northwest.
"Partly," he replied.
"Why? Trying to frighten me?"
"Not you."
"And Shandon wasn't scared either?"
"Far from it."
"Supposing you tell me precisely what has happened."
"First, concerning our agreement," he said, "a counterproposal has just occurred to me--one in which you will be interested."
"What is it?"
"You are going there to rescue your friends." He gestured. "Supposing it were possible to recover them without peril? Supposing Mike Shandon could be avoided completely? Would you not prefer to do it that way? --Or do you require his blood immediately?"
I sat there and thought about it. If I let him live, he would come after me again sooner or later. On the other hand, if I could get what I wanted now without having to face him, I could find a thousand safe ways of taking him out of the game, afterwards. Still, I'd come to Illyria ready to face a deadly man. What difference did it make if the names and faces were changed? Still .
"Let's hear your proposal."
"The people you seek," he said, "are there only because I recalled them. You know how I did it. I used the tapes. These tapes are intact, and only I know where they are located. I told you how I obtained them. That which I did before I can do now. I can transport the tapes here immediately, if you so bid me. Then we can depart this place, and you can recall your people as you would. Once we are aloft in your vessel, I can show you where to burn or bomb to destroy Mike Shandon without danger to ourselves. Is this not simpler and safer? We can settle our own differences later, by agreement."
"There are two holes in it," I said. "One, there will be no tape for Ruth Laris. Two, I would be abandoning the others. Whether I can recall them again is unimportant, if I leave them behind me now."
"The analogues you recall will have no memory of this."
"That is not the point. They exist right now. They're as real as you or I. It does not matter that they can be duplicated. --They're on the Isle of the Dead, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"Then if I were to destroy it to get Shandon, I'd get everybody, wouldn't I?"
"That would necessarily follow. But--"
"I veto your proposal."
"That is your privilege."
"Have you any other suggestions?"
"No."
"Good. Now that you've exhausted everything you have to change the subject, tell me what happened between you and Shandon back there."
"He bears a Name."
"What?"
"The shadow of Belion stands behind him."
"That's impossible. It doesn't work that way. He's no worldscaper--"
"Bide a moment, Frank, for I know it requires explanation. Apparently there are some things _Dra_ Marling never saw fit to tell you. He was a revisionist, however, so it is understandable.
"You know," he continued, "that being a Name-bearer is not essential for the design and construction of worlds--"
"Of course it is. It is a necessary psychological device to release unconscious potentials which are required to perform certain phases of the work. One has to be able to feel like a god to act like one."
"Then why can I do the work?"
"I never heard of you before you became my enemy. I've never seen any of your work, save that which stands about me here, grafted onto my own. If it is representative, then I would say that you can't do the work. You're a lousy craftsman."
"As you would have it," he said. "Nevertheless, it is obvious that I can manipulate the necessary processes."
"Anybody can learn to do that. You were tallthig about creative design, of which I see no indication on your part."
"I was talking about the pantheon of Strantri. It existed before there were worldscapers, you know."
"I know. What of it?"
"Revisionists, like _Dra_ Marling and his predecessors, used the old religion in their trade. They did not take it for its own sake, but, as you say, as a psychological device. Your confirmation as the Shrugger of Thunders was merely a means of coordinating your subconscious. To a fundamentalist, this is blasphemous."
"You are a fundamentalist?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you apprentice yourself to what you consider a sinful trade?"
"In order to be confirmed with a Name."
"I'm afraid you've lost me."
"It was the Name that I wanted, not the trade. My reasons were religious, not economic."
"But if it is only a psychological device--"
"That is the point! It is not. It is an authentic ceremony, and its results--personal contact with the god-- are genuine. It is the ordination rite for the high priests of Strantri."
"Then why didn't you take holy orders, rather than world engineering?"
"Because only a Name may administer the rite, and the twenty-seven Names who live are all revisionists. They would not administer the rite for the old reasons."
"Twenty-six," I said.
"Twenty-six?"
"_Dra_ Marling is under the mountain, and Lorimel of the Many Hands dwells in the happy nothing."
He lowered his head and was silent for a time. Then, "One less," he said. "I can remember when there were forty-three."
"It is sad."
"Yes."
"Why did you want a Name?"
"In order to be a priest, not a worldscaper. But the revisionists would not have one like me among them. They let me finish the training, then rejected me. Then, to insult me further, the next man they confirmed was an alien."
"I see. That is why you marked me for vengeance?"
"Yes."
"I was hardly responsible, you know. In fact, this is the first time I've heard the story. I had always thought that denominational differences meant very little within Strantri."
"Now you know better. You also must understand that I bear you no personal malice. By avenging myself on you, I strike back at those who blaspheme."
"Why do you indulge in what worldscaping you do, if you consider it immoral?"
"Worldscaping is not immoral. It is the subjugation of the true religion to this end that I find objectionable. I do not bear a Name in the orthodox sense of the term, and the work pays me well. So why should I not do it?"
"No reason I can think of," I told him, "if someone's willing to pay you to try. But what then is your connection with Belion, and Belion with Mike Shandon?"
"Sin and retribution, I suppose. I undertook the confirmation rite myself one night, in the temple at Prilbei. You know how it is, when the sacrifice is made and the words are spoken and you move along the outer wall of the temple, paying homage to each of the gods--how one tablet lights up before you and you feel the power come into you, and that is the Name you will bear?"
"Yes."
"It happened to me at the Station of Belion."
"So you confirmed yourself."
"He confirmed me, in his own Name. I did not want it to be him, for he is a destroyer, not a creator. I had hoped that Kirwar of the Four Faces, Father of Flowers, would come to me."
"Each must abide by his disposition."
"That is true, but I had gotten mine wrongly. Belion would move me even when I did not summon him. I do not know but that he may even have moved me in my vengeance-design for you, because you bear the Name of his ancient enemy. I can feel my thinking changing, even now as I speak of these things. Yes, it may be possible. Since he left me, things have been so different ..."
"How could he leave you? The disposition is for life."