Render looked away.

"Don't be too hard on the poor fellow," he said. "Afterall, he thought you were ill and he went for the doctor.Suppose he'd been right? You'd owe him thanks, not ascolding."

LJnmollified, Sigmund glared a moment longer andclosed his eye.

"He has to be told when he does wrong," she finished.

"I suppose," he said, drinking his coffee. "No haimdone. anyhow. Since I'm here, let's talk shop. I'm writingsomething and I'd like an opinion."

"Great- Give me a footnote?"

"Two or three. —In your opinion, do the general un-derlying motivations that lead to suicide differ in differentperiods of history or in different cultures?"

"My well-considered opinion is no, they don't," shesaid. "Frustrations can lead to depressions or frenzies; andif these are severe enough, they can lead to selfdestruction. You ask me about motivations and I thinkthey stay pretty much the same. I feel this is a crosscultural, cross-temporal aspect of the human condition. Idon't think it could be changed without changing the basicnature of man."

"Okay. Check. Now, what of the inciting element?" heasked- "Let man be a constant, his environment is still avariable. If he is placed in an overprotective life-situation,do you feel it would take more or less to depress him—orstimulate him to frenzy—than it would take in a notso protective environment?"

"Hm. Being case-oriented, I'd say it would depend onthe man. But I see what you're driving at: a mass predisposition to jump out windows at the drop of a hat—the window even opening itself for you, because youasked it to—the revolt of the bored masses. I don't like thenotion. I hope it's wrong."

"So do I, but I was thinking of symbolic suicides too—functional disorders that occur for pretty flimsy reasons."

"Aha! Your lecture last month: autopsychomimesis. Ihave the tape. Weli-told, but I can't agree."

"Neither can I, now. I'm rewriting that whole section—Thanatos in Cloudcuckooland,' I'm calling it. It's reallythe death-instinct moved nearer the surface."

"If I get you a scalpel and a cadaver, will you cut outthe death-instinct and let me touch it?"

"Couldn't." he put the grin into his voice, "it would beall used up in a cadaver. Find me a volunteer though, andhe'll prove my case by volunteering."

"Your logic is unassailable," she smiled. "Get us somemore coffee, okay?"

Render went to the kitchen, spiked and filled the cups,drank a glass of water and returned to the living room.Eileen had not moved; neither had Sigmund.

"What do you do when you're not busy being aShaper?" she asked him.

"The same things most people do—eat, drink, sleep,talk, visit friends and not-friends, visit places, read ..."

"Are you a forgiving man?""Sometimes. Why?"

"Then forgive me. I argued with a woman today, awoman named De Ville."

"What about?"

"You—and she accused me of such things it were better my mother bad not born me. Are you going to marryher?"

"No, marriage is like alchemy. It served an importantpurpose once, but I hardly feel it's here to stay."

"Good."

"What did you say to her?"

"I gave her a clinic referral card that said, 'Diagnosis: Bitch. Prescription: Drug therapy and a tight gag.' "

"Oh," said Render, showing interest.

"She tore it up and threw it in my face."

"I wonder why?"

She shrugged, smiled, made a gridwork on the tablecloth.

" 'Fathers and elders, I ponder,' *' sighed Render," 'what is hell?' "

" 'I maintain it is the suffering of being unable tolove,* " she finished. "Was Dostoevsky right?"

"I doubt it I'd put him into group therapy myself.That'd be real hell for him—with all those people actinglike his characters and enjoying it so."

Render put down his cup and pushed his chair awayfrom the table.

"I suppose you must be going now?"

"I really should," said Render.

"And I can't interest you in food?"

"No."

She stood.

"Okay, I'll get my coat."

"I could drive back myself and just set the car to return."

"No! I*m frightened by the notion of empty cars drivingaround the city. I'd feel the thing was haunted for thenext two-and-a-half weeks.

"Besides," she said, passing through the archway, "youpromised me Winchester Cathedral."

"You want to do it today?"

"If you can be persuaded."

As Render stood deciding, Sigmund rose to his feet. Hestood directly before him and stared upward into his eyes.He opened his mouth and closed it, several times, but nosounds emerged. Then he turned away and left theroom.

"No," Eileen's voice came back, "you will stay hereuntil I return."

Render picked up his coat and put it on, stuffing themedkit into the far pocket.

As they walked up the hall toward the elevator Renderthought he heard a very faint and very distant howlingsound.

In this place, of all places. Render knew he was the master of all things, He was at home on those alien worlds, without time,those worlds where flowers copulate and the stars do battle in the heavens, falling at last to the ground, bleeding,like so many split and shattered chalices, and the seaspart to reveal stairways leading down, and arms emergefrom caverns, waving torches that flame like liquidfaces—a midwinter night's nightmare, summer goa-begging. Render know—for he had visited those worldson a professional basis for the better part of a decade.With the crooking of a finger he could isolate the sorcerors, bring them to trial for treason against the realm—aye, and he could execute them, could appoint theirsuccessors.

Fortunately, this trip was only a courtesy call . . , He moved forward through the glade, seeking her.

He could feel her awakening presence all about him.

He pushed through the branches, stood beside the lake.It was cold, blue, and bottomless, the lake, reflectingthat slender willow which 'had become the station of herarrival.

"Eileeni"

The willow swayed toward him, swayed away,

"Eileen! Come forth!"

Leaves fell, floated upon the lake, disturbed its mirrorlike placidity, distorted the reflections.

"Eileen?"

All the leaves yellowed at once then, dropped downinto the water. The tree ceased its swaying. There wasa strange sound in the darkening sky, like the hummingof high wires on a cold day.Suddenly there was a double file of moons passing*hrough the heavens.

Render selected one, reached up and pressed it. Theothers vanished as he did so, and the world brightened; the humming went out of the air.

He circled the lake to gain a subjective respite fromthe rejection-action and his counter to it. He moved upalong an aisle of pines toward the place where he wantedthe cathedral to occur. Birds sang now in the trees. Thewind came softly by him. He felt her presence quitestrongly.

"Here, Eileen. Here."

She walked beside him then, green silk, hair of bronze,eyes of molten emerald; she wore an emerald in herforehead. She walked in green slippers over the pineneedles, saying: "What happened?"

"You were afraid."

"Why?"

"Perhaps you fear the cathedral. Are you a witch?"he smiled.

"Yes, but it's my day off."

He laughed, and he took her arm, and they roundedan island of foliage, and there was the cathedral reconstructed on a grassy rise, pushing its way above themand above the trees, climbing into the middle air, breathing out organ notes, reflecting a stray ray of sunlightfrom a plane of glass.

"Hold tight to the world," he said. "Here comes theguided tour."

They moved forward and entered.

"' ... With its floor-to-ceiling shafts, like so manyhuge tree trunks, it achieves a ruthless control over itsspaces,' " he said. "—Got that from the guidebook. Thisis the north transept...."