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 pronounced 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 reassuring 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 relationship 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.
Royce picked Out the sabbat, though I could see nothing until we let the ground come up to meet us and proceeded on foot. Then there was light and form. Ahead of us, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, was an eminence surmounted by a great throne which glowed red through the murky air. I could not make out clearly the thing seated there, but I knew it was himself' - our ancient enemy.
We were no longer alone. Life - sentient, evil undeadness - boiled around us and fogged the air and crept out of the ground. The ground itself twitched and pulsated as we walked over it. Faceless things sniffed and nibbled at our heels. We were aware of unseen presences about us in the fog-shot gloom: beings that squeaked, grunted, and sniggered; voices that were slobbering whimpers, that sucked and retched and bleated.
They seemed vaguely disturbed by our presence - Heaven knows that I was terrified by them! - for I could hear them flopping and shuffling out of our path, then closing cautiously in behind, as they bleated warnings to one another.
A shape floundered into our path and stopped, a shape with a great bloated head and moist, limber arms. Back!' it wheezed. Go back! Candidates for witchhood apply on the lower level.' It did not speak English, but the words were clear.
Royce smashed it in the face and we stamped over it, its chalky bones crunching underfoot. It pulled itself together again, whining its submission, then scurried out in front of us and thereafter gave us escort right up to the great throne.
That's the only way to treat these beings,' Joe whispered in my ear. Kick em in the teeth first, and they'll respect you.' There was a clearing before the throne which was crowded with black witches, black magicians, demons in every foul guise, and lesser unclean things. On the left side the cauldron boiled. On the right some of the company were partaking of the witches' feast. I turned my head away from that. Directly before the throne, as custom calls for, the witches' dance was being performed for the amusement of the Goat. Some dozens of men and women, young and old, comely and hideous, cavorted and leaped in impossible acrobatic adagio.
The dance ceased and they gave way uncertainly before us as we pressed up to the throne. What's this? What's this?' came a husky, phlegm-filled voice. It's my little sweetheart! Come up and sit beside me, my sweet! Have you come at last to sign my compact?'