"What will you do with them?" Thorinn asked.
"They will be kept until another place is ready for them. The men children will be put in one place and the women children in another. They will live out their lives and die." Thorinn was blinded by tears. They did not run down his cheeks as they ought, but puddled in his eyesockets, warm and stinging. He dashed them away with his fingers, and when he could see again they were drifting about the room, tiny bright spheres. One of them floated straight toward the Monitor, touched his robe, dwindled and disappeared without leaving a stain. A few moments later he saw it emerge from the other side, whole and perfect: then he knew that the Monitor was not really here, that what he saw was only a magical sending.
Anger stiffened his body. "You talk about me doing harm!" he cried. "How could you do that to children?"
"I do what I must. Thorinn Goryatson—"
"Wait," said another voice.
Thorinn turned, saw the crystal of the magic box glinting between the meshes of the net on the wall.
"Monitor, I must ask you a question. When men gave you power over the world, was it forever?" The tall figure had turned to look at the box with an expression of offended surprise. It was silent, but the box spoke as if it were answering a question. "No, I'm not broken. Thorinn has told me I must do anything I can to help him. Answer so that he can hear."
The Monitor said, "It was not forever."
"When must you give your power back to men?"
"When a ruler of men asks me for it."
"It may be that Thorinn is a ruler of men. Thorinn, do you ask the Monitor to give you his power?" Half comprehending, Thorinn answered, "Yes."
The Monitor turned to him. "Thorinn Goryatson, you have already said that you don't know who your parents were."
Before he could answer, the box said, "That's true, but what if they were kings?" The Monitor said nothing, but in the crystal in the wall Thorinn again saw as if from a height the great bowl of Hovenskar. Now it was empty: there was no house, no horse-barn, no tanyard, only the yellow grass glittering with frostflakes under a gray sky. Over the high rim came a little procession of men on horseback, driving other horses before them, some loaded high with bundles, others barebacked. The figures came forward in a rush until they filled the crystal, but they were dim and gray, as if seen through fog. Thorinn could make out the tall figure of Goryat, then two smaller ones, half-grown boys; then a fourth, perched high on the horse, absurdly small—a child. Was that himself? With a pang of disbelief, he leaned forward.
The scene disappeared. Now there was another: the same caravan moving in the distance across a vast barren plain in a swirl of frostflakes. It disappeared in its turn, and a third scene took its place. It was night, and in the green sky-glow he saw the four mounted figures and their horses moving down a rocky defile. "That is all," said the Monitor.
"From which direction did they come?" asked the box.
In the crystal, a blotched globe appeared; there were lines on it which Thorinn did not understand.
"Whose land is that?" the box asked.
The Monitor said, "They are called the Skryllings."
"Who was their king?"
"He was called Dar the Bold." In the crystal, Thorinn saw a walled town with peaked roofs of tile, trees growing from courtyards; there were mountains beyond it. Now, floating invisible, he was drawing nearer: he saw a wide open square paved with cobblestones, and a crowd of people in bright garments. In the midst of them were five men on horseback; one, the tallest, carried a hooded bird on his wrist.
"And after him, who was to be king?"
The scene disappeared; now they were looking at a balcony where the tall man stood with a child in his arms, a golden-haired woman beside him. "Dar's son, called Caerwin the Lame." The Lame! Thorinn peered closer, but the tiny face was a stranger's.
"Why was he called that?" the box asked.
"One of his legs was harmed when he was born."
"Which leg?"
"The left."
"And is Dar still king?"
"No. He was killed in fighting with the Kerns." In the crystal, many men were crowding together on horseback and afoot; weapons glinted through a cloud of dust. Thorinn glimpsed the tall man, saw him go down.
"Who was king after him?"
"Dar's brother, called Alf Bonebreaker, was king. He is dead. After him there is no king."
"And where is Caerwin?"
"The Skryllings believe he is dead. The Kerns took the king's house and killed all in it, but Caerwin's body was not found."
"Therefore," said the box, "Thorinn may be the king of the Skryllings. He was taken from the land of the Skryllings, and he is lame in the left leg."
"It is not enough," said the Monitor.
Thorinn's body went cold. "Wait a moment," he said. He opened his wallet, fumbled until he found the scrap of cloth he had carried with him from Hovenskar. "Let me see Caerwin again." In the crystal, there stood the tall man. the woman and the child as before. "Let me see him closer." The image bloomed, expanded: now the child filled the crystal. He was dressed in a garment woven with bright figures of birds and people. Thorinn held up the scrap of cloth, trembling: the figures were the same.
After a moment the Monitor said calmly, "You are the king of the Skryllings." The majestic figure bowed its head. "What will you have me do?"
"Let me go back to the Midworld," said Thorinn, his heart bursting with joy.
"That cannot be done," said the Monitor sternly. "The king of the world must be here, where the world is ruled."
"But how can I be king of the Skryllings if I am here?"
"You are the king of the Skryllings until they choose another king." Thorinn's heart was a stone. "And then," he said, "because I am not king of the Skryllings any more, I can't be king of the world either, and you will do what you like with me."
"That is true."
"Box," said Thorinn bitterly, "what is the use of this?"
"I don't know, Thorinn."
He said to the Monitor, "Let me go back and be king of the Skryllings, and then I will come here again and be king of the world."
"That cannot be done. There are things that must be decided soon."
"What things?"
Abruptly the room was swallowed by darkness. Only the Monitor remained, glowing like witchfire, suspended in the midst of a vast emptiness. Now a glowing ball appeared before him, at the height of his chest. Thorinn blinked; the ball was so bright that it hurt his eyes. Next, around the ball glowing lines appeared, thin as hairs, like elongated circles with the ball near their center. On each of these lines, he saw, there was a tiny bead of light, and as he watched, those nearest the central ball crept slowly along their lines, all in the same direction, from the left hand to the right. Now a new line of brightness appeared. This one was not in the same level plane as the others; it swooped in from above, curved downward as it neared the ball, then continued into the distance. On this line, too, there was a tiny bead of light.
"This is our world," said the Monitor, and touched the bead with his long forefinger. "These are other worlds." His finger moved to the beads on the stretched circles around the central ball, one after another.
"This one is like ours. Men could live on it."
He turned to Thorinn. "Once our world was part of a family of worlds like this one, turning about a central fire. Then the fire grew too strong. Men made our world move, to seek another fire. Now we must choose whether to stay or go on. If I make the world move slower, it will turn about this fire as the other worlds do."
The line from above curved more sharply, turned back on itself; now it was a closed curve like the others.