Shoogar looked at the other magician, “Do you mock me? I see nothing. No dust clouds. No other worlds. There is nothing in the sky.”
“Oh, but there is,” said Purple-Gray. “It’s just too small for you to see.”
Shoogar raised an eyebrow — threw me a look — turned back to the other magician. I could sense some of the onlookers trying to restrain their mirth. Some of the lesser women were already giggling and had to be herded away. “Too small?” repeated Shoogar, “Too small …?” His patience was growing thin. Shoogar has no temperament for children, fools or madmen.
“Oh, no — you misunderstand,” said Purple-Gray quickly. “It’s too small to see because it’s so far away.”
“Oh …” said Shoogar slowly. Purple-Gray still had not explained the dust clouds — or the lack of them.
“Yes. In fact, it’s so far away that if you tried to get there on say, a bicycle, it would take you many generations. You would grow old and die before you had covered a significant fraction of the journey.”
“I see …” said Shoogar. “Then how did you get here By pedalling faster?”
Purple-Gray laughed, “Oh, no, no. Even that wouldn’t help. I …” The speakerspell hesitated, then said, “… went around …”
Shoogar shook his head in confusion. Several more of the women had to be led away. It was not good for them to see a grown man making a fool of himself, nor was it advisable that they witness Shoogar discomfited. Several of the men began muttering among themselves. Shoogar gestured for silence — he still had not given up. “Went around …?” he asked. “Went around what? The dust clouds?”
“Oh, no. I went through the dust clouds. I…. went around the distance.”
Shoogar repeated this sentence slowly, to see if there was something in it he had missed. There wasn’t. He looked at Purple and shook his head. “Uh uh,” he said. That was all, just, “Uh uh.”
Then he turned and walked away, up the slope, shaking his head and turning the small light-making device over and over in his hands.
Purple-gray spent the next several days collecting small plants, pieces of larger plants, handfuls of mud and water and dirt. There were plenty of sprats and adults to watch him, but he took little notice of them.
A floating three-legged clicking device followed him about with its legs folded, unnoticed and untended until he needed it. Each time he took a sample of something he would mount this device on its legs and point it at the site. It seemed a harmless enough testing device, but Shoogar would grit his teeth every time it came floating by.
Shoogar went into seclusion then, determined to discover the secret of the stranger’s light-making device. When I visited him for the purpose of checking his progress, he glared angrily at me, and muttered, “Curse that single-shadowed demon!”
“Perhaps it would help if you tried to find out which god the spell draws its power from.”
Shoogar gave me another look, more scathing than the first. “Do I tell you how to carve bone? Why do you tell me magic? Don’t you think I know my own business? I have already tested this device for the presence of every god in the known pantheon and it responds to none.”
“Perhaps,” I suggested, “perhaps it is based on a different principle. Purple appears not to call on any gods at all. Could it be that…”
Then how does he work his devices?” Shoogar demanded. “By superstition?”
“I don’t know — but perhaps he draws his power from some different source. Or perhaps …”
“Lant, you are a fool! Why do you continue to prattle on about things you do not know? If you are going to try to talk to a magician about magic, you should at least try to talk intelligently.”
“But that’s why I’m asking —”
“Superstition, Lant, is harmless prattle that gets repeated so often that people start to believe it — and then it is no longer harmless. The belief of the people gives it power. Magic, on the other hand, involves a carefully constructed equation of symbols intended to control specialized forces or objects. Magic works whether one believes in it or not”
“I understand that,” I said. “And I do not think that Purple operates by superstition.”
“Nor do I,” said Shoogar. “His powers are too great.”
“But it does not appear that he operates by magic either.”
“Are you suggesting that the stranger’s devices are independent of the gods?” Shoogar’s look and tone made it clear that he felt he was talking to an imbecile.
I stiffened my tone. “Such a thing is not impossible. Wilville once confessed to me that he has often test-ridden new bicycles without bothering to bless them first. One grows careless and forgets. But nothing evil has ever happened to him.”
“Wilville and Orbur are under my protection — remember? In payment for helping to construct a flying spell.”
“Yes, I remember. I had preferred they take something tangible.”
Shoogar ignored me. “I am protecting both your sons as a matter of course, so Wilville’s occasional ride on an unblessed bicycle proves nothing. Besides, if everything else has been properly prepared, the bicycle blessing is superfluous.”
“I still say that such a thing as a device independent of the gods might be possible.”
Shoogar gave me a look. You seem very sure of yourself.”
“As a boy, I once used an unblessed fishing rod. I made it myself.”
“So?”
“So I caught a fish.”
Shoogar snorted. “It still proves nothing, Lant. If you had blessed that rod and washed your hook as you should have, you might have caught ten times as many fish. All that you proved otherwise was that you had constructed a usable fishing rod. What you needed for that experiment was a valid control — an identical fishing pole that had been blessed and washed. Then you would have seen which one could catch the most fish.
“You talk as if you have done such an experiment.”
“Not with fish, no. But with traps.”
My surprise must have shown, for he said, “As an apprentice, every new magician must prove to his own satisfaction, at least once, that there is truly great power in magic. One cannot be a magician if there is a seed of doubt in his mind. By allowing the apprentice to satisfy his curiosity, we generate faith in him. It is a simple experiment — one that anyone can construct for himself — a test that can be repeated as often as you choose. Each time the results are the same and can be verified.”
“And what happens?”
“The traps with the blessed bait will catch twice as many rabbits.”
“So? Maybe it was only because the bait is more attractive to the rabbits.”
“Of course,” said Shoogar. “That’s exactly what it is supposed to do. The whole purpose of the spell is to make the bait more attractive. These traps are simple devices, Lant. A simple device may not always need magic, but when it is used the results are easily demonstrable. Now, how many parts were there to your fishing pole?”
“Three. Stick, line and hook.”
“Right. There is little that can go wrong with it, but still the string can break, or the bait can slip off, or the hook may not catch. And this is only a simple device — a thing that does not have to be very precise. Think, Lant! What of the construction that has many moving parts? It has to have all of them in absolute working order before any of them will work. What of, say, the bicycle?”
I started to answer, but he cut me off. “Don’t interrupt. The bicycle has many moving parts, the wheels, the pulleys, the steering bar, the pedals, the axles. All of these things must be precision carved and in delicate adjustment with each other, or the device simply will not work. Now, theoretically, a perfect machine is possible … but in practice — well, when you get a machine that has to be that precise simply to function, that is when the effect of the magic becomes most important. If only one part fails — one part — then the whole machine is useless. The simple device does not need magic, so its effect is enhanced by the simplest of spells; but a complex device needs a more complex spell just to keep it working at all. There is just too much that can go wrong. Tell me, Lant, how many parts are there to a bicycle?”