Pol shook his head and turned away. He regarded the still form of Taisa upon the block of dark stone.
"Your gaze follows the direction of your thoughts, I see."
"Does this thing really require a human sacrifice?"
"Yes. So be of good cheer that you now have a choice. We can save the girl for your later pleasure and use Ryle, who would be most happy to kill you if it would serve his ends."
"What of--my brother?"
"He would not go along with our plans. Ryle has warped his thinking. I suggest you permit me to banish him, perhaps to the world where you yourself grew up."
"He is a sorcerer. He may find his way back."
"It will be a simple enough matter to inflict a loss of memory."
"That could be land of rough."
"His treatment of you was somewhat less than exemplary."
"But as you said, Ryle influenced him."
"Who cares what the reason may be? I am only willing to spare him at all because he is your brother."
"Say that I give you what you want. What assurance have I that I will be of any use to you afterwards?"
"There will be massive changes, and I cannot control an entire world by myself. There are not that many Mad-wands about. I would not dispense with any of them unnecessarily. And you, of course, will always hold a special place, because of this assistance."
"I see," Pol said.
"Do you really? Are you aware what will come to pass in this world when the Gate is opened?"
"I think so. Or at least I have my suspicions."
"It will become our plum. With the power at our disposal, we will be gods of the new world."
Pol's eyes moved toward the Gate, where some trick of the light made the figure of the nailed bird seem to jerk forward.
"Supposing I said 'no'?" he asked.
"That could cause us both considerable inconvenience. But what possible reason could you have for not agreeing?"
"I don't like being pressured into things, whether it's by you or Ryle or the statuettes themselves. I've been manipulated ever since I set foot in this world, and I'm tired of it."
"Well, as in most major matters there is only a limited number of choices. In this case, you are with me, you are against me or you want to walk away from me. Two of those responses are unacceptable and would require action on my part."
"I wouldn't like that," said Pol. "But then, you might not either."
"Are you threatening me, lad?" Spier asked.
"Just stating a possible consequence," Pol replied.
The big man sighed.
"You're strong, Pol," he said, "stronger today than you ever were before in your life. You've passed your initiation, and your lights are all shining as pretty as can be--for the moment. No telling how long it will last, of course. But be that as it may, I am stronger still. There would be no contest whatsoever between us. You would be as a candle's flame before the hurricane of my will. Now, I could force you to produce the Keys. But I would far rather you did it willingly, for I want you alive and on my side and wearing no special enchantment."
"Why?"
"I've my reasons. I'll tell you later, after I'm sure of you."
"You foresaw a possible conflict between us. Something you'd said ..."
"Yes, I did. But it need not be. If you're squeamish, I'll even do the sacrificing myself."
Pol laughed.
"That's not it. I'd have killed Ryle only a little while ago if I could have. As I said, you're pressing me, you're manipulating me."
"I have no choice."
"The hell you don't."
Spier turned away, staring for a moment at the Gate.
"I wonder... ?" he began.
"By the way," Pol said, "if you were to kill me, how would you get at the Keys?"
"Only with great difficulty, if at all." Spier said, "since you are carrying them around in what is practically a private universe. If you die, it would be a hell of a problem piercing it."
"Then your 'candle in the wind' metaphor isn't quite apt, is it? You'd have to pull your punches if it came to throwing any."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I wouldn't count on it, though. The Gate could be opened with just one Key--but it might take me a couple of years and an awful lot of trouble. Good thing we're just speaking hypothetically, isn't it?"
Pol crossed the chamber and touched the Gate for the first time. It felt cold. The eyes of the nailed serpent seemed to be fixed upon him.
"What would happen if the statuettes were destroyed?" he asked.
"That would be a very difficult thing to accomplish," Spier replied, "even if one knew how."
"But we're being hypothetical, aren't we?"
"True. The Gate would fade away from this plane, and you would be standing there looking at a raw piece of mountain."
"But it is open now--or can be opened without the Keys--on another plane?"
"Yes. But only tenuous things can take that route, as you did in your dreams."
"What brought it here in the first place?"
"Your father, Ryle and myself--with great exertions."
"How? And how are the statuettes involved?"
"That's enough for being hypothetical--or anything else of an interrogatory nature," Spier said. "There were three choices--one good one and two bad ones. Do you recall?"
"Yes."
Pol turned toward him, leaned back against the door and folded his arms across his breast. Immediately, he felt the coldness along his spine, but he did not move. The power was still there, moving within his right forearm.
Spier's eyes widened, slightly and but for an instant. He glanced upward and then back down at Pol again.
"I know your answer," he said, "but I have to hear you say it."
"You ran out on my father and left him to face an army."
Spier frowned, looked puzzled.
"He acted against my advice," he said. "The army was there because of his actions, not mine. There was no sense in my dying with him. But what is all of this to you? You never even knew him."
"Just curious," Pol said. "I wanted to hear your side of it."
"Surely you are not going to use that as a basis for refusing me? You were only a baby."
Pot nodded. He was thinking of the thing that might have been his father's ghost walking beside him in the misty chamber.
"You're right. But humor me with one more question, if you will. Would the two of you have fought one another eventually, for hegemony in this new land?"
Spier's face reddened.
"I don't know," he said. "Perhaps..."
"Had it already begun? Were you on the threshold and was this your way--"
"Enough!" Spier cried. "I take it that your answer is 'no'. Would you care to tell me which is your real reason for denying me?"
Pol shrugged.
"Choose any of the above," he said. "Maybe I'm not certain myself. But I know there is a sufficiency. "
The coldness had invaded his entire body now, but he made no move to withdraw from the serpent figure of the Gate against which he leaned. It was almost as if it had invited him to position himself just there...
"It's a shame," Spier said, "because I was beginning to like you...."
Pol hit him. He summoned up every bit of the power he could muster, backed it with all of his will and hurled it at the man.
Very slowly, Henry Spier unscrewed the cigarette from its holder, dropped it upon the floor and stepped on it. He replaced the holder in some hidden pocket beneath his cloak. It had to be sheer bravado. Pol knew that the man must be feeling the force of his attack. But the display was effective. Pol felt a tremor of fear at Spier's power, but he maintained the siege and reached for even more force to back it. He was committed now, and he felt as if he were sliding down a long tunnel which ended in blackness.