Isabel May took his hand. "My instincts tell me that I can trust you. The over-ride is a couplet:
"Tom, Tom, the piper's son Stole a pig and away he run."
Lanarck reported to Cardale. "I am happy to inform you that the affair is satisfactorily concluded." Cardale regarded him skeptically. "What do you mean by that?"
"The over-ride is safe." "Indeed? Safe where?"
"I thought it best to consult with you before carrying the over-ride on my person."
"That is perhaps over-discreet. What of Isabel May? Is she in custody?"
"In order to get the over-ride I had to make broad but reasonable concessions, including a full pardon, retraction of all charges against her, and official apologies as well as retributive payments for false arrest and general damages. She wants an official document, certifying these concessions. If you will prepare the document, I will transmit it, and the affair will be terminated."
Cardale said in a cool voice: "Who authorized you to make such far-reaching concessions?"
Lanarck spoke indifferently. "Do you want the over-ride?"
"Of course."
"Then do as I suggest."
"You're even more arrogant than Detering led me to expect."
"The results speak for themselves, sir."
"How do I know that she won't use the over-ride?"
"You can now call it up and change it, so I'm given to understand."
"How do I know that she hasn't used it already, to the hilt?"
"I mentioned compensatory payments. The adjustment has been made."
Cardale ran his fingers through his hair. "How much damages?"
"The amount is of no great consequence. If Isabel May had chosen to make intemperate demands, they would only partially balance the damage she has suffered."
"So you say." Cardale could not decide whether to bluster, to threaten, or to throw his hands in the air. At last he leaned back in his chair. "I'll have the document ready tomorrow and you can bring in the over-ride."
"Very well, Mr. Cardale."
"I'd still like to know, unofficially, if you like, just how much she took in settlement."
"We requisitioned a hundred and one million, seven hundred and sixty-two dollars into a set of personal accounts."
Cardale stared. "I thought you said that she'd made an intemperate settlement!"
"It seemed as easy to ask for a large sum as a small."
"No doubt even easier. It's a strange figure. Why seven hundred and sixty-two dollars?"
"That, sir, is money owing to me for which the bursar refuses to issue a voucher. It represents expenses in a previous case: bribes, liquor and the services of a prostitute, if you want the details."
"And why the million extra?"
"That represents a contingency fund for my own convenience, so that I won't be harassed in the future. In a quiet and modest sense it also reflects my annoyance with the bursar."
Lanarck rose to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow"
"a|t the same time, sir."
"Until tomorrow, Lanarck."
Green Magic
Howard Fair, looking over the relics of his great uncle Gerald Mclntyre, found a large ledger entitled:
WORKBOOK & JOURNAL Open at Peril!
Fair read the journal with interest, although his own work went far beyond ideas treated only gingerly by Gerald Mclntyre.
"The existence of disciplines concentric fo the elementary magics must now be admitted without further controversy,' wrote Mclntyre. "Guided by a set of analogies from the white and black magics (to be detailed in due course), I have! delineated the basic extension of purple magic, as well as its corollary, Dynamic Nomism."
Fair read on, remarking the careful charts, the projections and expansions, the transportations and transformations by which Gerald Mclntyre had conceived his systemology. So swiftly had the technical arts advanced that Mclntyre's expositions, highly controversial sixty years before, now seemed pedantic and overly rigorous.
"Whereas benign creatures: angels, white sprites, merri-hews, sandestins-are typical of the white cycle; whereas demons, magners, trolls and warlocks are evinced by black magic; so do the purple and green cycles sponsor their own particulars, but these are neither good nor evil, bearing, rather, the same relation to the black and white provinces that these latter do to our own basic realm." Fair reread the passage. The "green cycle"? Had Gerald Mclntyre wandered into regions overlooked by modern workers?
He reviewed the journal in the light of this suspicion, and discovered additional hints and references. Especially provocative was a bit of scribbled marginalia: "More concerning my latest researches I may not state, having been promised an infinite reward for this forbearance."
The passage was dated a day before Gerald Mclntyre's death, which had occurred on March 21, 1898, the first day of spring. Mclntyre had enjoyed very little of his infinite reward," whatever had been its nature... . Fair returned to a consideration of the journal, which, in a sentence or two, had opened a chink on an entire new panorama. Mclntyre provided no further illumination, and Fair set out to make a fuller investigation.
His first steps were routine. He performed two divinations, searched the standard indexes, concordances, handbooks and formularies, evoked a demon whom he had previously found knowledgeable: all without success. He found no direct reference to cycles beyond the purple; the demon refused even to speculate.
Fair was by no means discouraged; if anything, the intensity of his interest increased. He reread the journal, with particular care to the justification for purple magic, reasoning that Mclntyre, groping for a lore beyond the purple, might well have used the methods which had yielded results before. Applying stains and ultraviolet light to the pages, Fair made legible a number of notes Mclntyre had jotted down, then erased.
Fair was immensely stimulated. The notes assured him that he was on the right track, and further indicated a number of blind alleys which Fair profited by avoiding. He applied himself so successfully that before the week was out he had evoked a sprite of the green cycle.
It appeared in the semblance of a man with green glass eyes and a thatch of young eucalyptus leaves in the place of hair. It greeted Fair with cool courtesy, would not seat itself, and ignored Fair's proffer of coffee.
After wandering around the apartment inspecting Fair's books and curios with an air of negligent amusement, it agreed to respond to Fair's questions.
Fair asked permission to use his tape-recorder, which the sprite allowed, and Fair set the apparatus in motion. (When subsequently he replayed the interview, no sound could be heard.)
"What realms of magic lie beyond the green?" asked Fair.
"I can't give you an exact answer," replied the sprite, "because I don't know. There are at least two more, corresponding to the colors we call rawn and pallow, and very likely others."
Fair arranged the microphone where it would directly intercept the voice of the sprite.
"What," he asked, "is the green cycle like? What is physical semblance?"
The sprite paused to consider. Glistening mother-of-pearl films wandered across its face, reflecting the tinge of its' thoughts. "I'm rather severely restricted by your use of word 'physical.' And 'semblance' involves a subjective interpretation, which changes with the rise and fall of the seconds.
"By all means," Fair said hastily, "describe it in your words."
"Well-we have four different regions, two of which floresce from the basic skeleton of the universe, and subsede the others. The first of these is compressed and ishthiated, but is notable for its wide pools of mottle which we sometimes use for deranging stations. We've transplated mosses from Earth's Devonian and a few ice-fires from Perdition. They climb among the rods which we call devil-hair-he went on for several minutes but the meaning almost entirely escaped Fair. And it seemed as if the question by which he had hoped to break the ice might run away with the the entire interview. He introduced another idea.