"Why so?" But even as Magnus looked, the haze dispersed, revealing a body of clear blue water, so lucid that he could see even the pebbles at its center, for sunlight filled all the world about it, even the waters themselves, and made the depths luminous. The verge about it was soft green grass, dappled with flowers in many hues.

"Ah," the lady breathed. "Thus did it seem to thine heart, so short a time agone." Her hand moved on his forehead, and suddenly, Magnus remembered following his father into the forest, arguing with him, and going alone to meet the hag in the tower, the lady at the church door, the girl in the cult village, and this Queen of Elfland, as she styled herself. As he remembered, the sky in the picture grew cloudy, the flowers curled up and hid their faces, and the waters took on a dark green hue, no longer clear, hiding something in their depths-and there was a feeling of danger, of something threatening that hid below the surface. "What change is this?" Magnus gasped.

"The change is in thee," the lady said, "for when first this pond thou didst see, I had cleared the memory of this past week from thy mind; yet now I have restored it-and thine image of the unknown pond hath changed."

Magnus frowned. "Why, how should this be? And what should it signify?"

But the lady only waved her hand, and the picture drew in on itself, whirling as a knot of smoke, then blossomed out again, into a bright, fair road strewn with golden sand, bordered by wands adorned with gaily colored pennons, about which twined flowers of every hue and tint. The road wound back and forth over a rolling landscape into a distance that glittered and promised ... what?

There was a beauty to it that was alien somehow, yet immensely beguiling. "What track is that?" Magnus breathed. "That," the lady said, "is the road to fair Elfland, whither thou and I shall ride."

Magnus shivered with a sudden thrill and rose to his feet in a single smooth motion. "Why, then, let us ride, milady! How quickly can we come thereto?"

She smiled up at him, amused. "Art thou so keen, then? Nay, if so, thou art bound most truly, and 'tis thyself hast forged the bonds."

"Right willingly," he assured her. "Nay, gladly would I pass all my days in that fair land."

"Come, then," the lady said, "mount up behind me-for my horse is rested, and ready to flee again. She hath need of only a few minutes' respite in a world's air, and will bear us now to Elfland."

Magnus came back and mounted behind her. "Is this world like to a stepping stone in the Void, then?"

The horse sprang into the picture, and Magnus cried out in alarm, then stared in wonder-for as they passed through the ring of smoke, the enchanted landscape spread out on both sides of him, and the bright pennons pointed the way. Looking behind, he saw the Void through the frame of smoke, closing in about the circle of grass and trees as the worldlet shrank behind. Then the smoke swirled in to hide the view, dissipated, and was gone, leaving only the clear blue sky of Tir Chlis above them. " 'Twas not a stepping stone," he breathed.

"Nay," she said. "Say rather, an island in the stream, a way station for a weary traveller-yet one that doth hold the gates to three worlds, for she who doth possess the key."

Magnus shuddered. "I'd liefer not meet the `she' who doth hold the keys to the gate to Hell."

"Yet thou hast," the faerie queen said softly. "Thou hast met her, in several guises-but hast not yet determined to walk through the portal."

"Not thyself!" Magnus cried, appalled.

"Even as thou sayest," she confirmed. "'Tis not myself. Yet neither am I she who might speed thee on the road to Heaven."

Magnus thought that over for a few minutes, then said, "I'd as lief not meet her, as the other."

"Granted," the faerie queen purred. "Thou hast not." They rode into the east, and the day dimmed about them with alarming suddenness-alarming, until Magnus realized that the faerie horse galloped so quickly that its velocity, added to the rotation of the planet, was bringing night on far more quickly than he had expected. He was seized by a sudden sense of deja vu-the feeling that he had been through this event before. He realized its source, of course-for he had come to Tir Chlis once before indeed, though he had been only eight at the time, scurrying along beside his mother and father, guarding his sister and little brother. It was all as he had remembered, as he had seen it then and in his dreams a hundred times since-the velvet sky, the flickering stars, the jeweled grass. It lacked only the silver-learned wood, for they were coming into rolling land, without a tree in sight. The sunset faded, and stars pricked the indigo dome above.

Their image was reflected on the plain below, as dozens of lights appeared.

"What lamps are these?" Magnus asked, awed.

"These are the torches of the elven people," the lady explained, "that do light them in their midnight revels. Wilt thou now join our promenade?"

"Aye, gladly!" Magnus sprang off the horse.

"And gladly shall we dance. But, my wizard, thou must needs hold thy tongue, no matter how strange or wondrous or-aye, dire-the sights that you may see. Thou must needs be mute, responding not to any question, nor to any challenge or gibe, no matter how small, or thou wilt no longer be within my protection, and may be parted from me-and shouldst thou chance to speak any word, thou wilt never come again to thine ain country."

"Small loss," Magnus breathed, his eyes upon her, "when so wondrous fair a being as thou art, is ever near to me." The lady may have blushed; at the least, she turned away, and went on. "Now, when thou dost come to our court, young man, see that thou dost comport thyself as a gracious, well-bred, and learned young man ought."

"I have never claimed to be learned," Magnus murmured. "Naetheless, by the common mortal standard, thou art so. And bow for answer, and smile fairly, for they will question thee, one and all. Yet speak no word, for thou must needs answer none but me."

"Shall I not be judged a rude and churlish fellow, then? And shall they not think the less of thee for having me in thy service?"

"Nay, for they know this game, and there be not a few of them do hope to gain a servitor thereby. Yet an thou dost hold thy tongue, they will by and by come to question me. Then will I give them answer, having proved thy fidelity, and tell them that I got thee at the Eildon tree."

Magnus remembered the large, branching tree with the huge leaves under which he had sat to brood, then to commiserate with Albertus. "I had thought it a common willow, though a great one. What doth that tree signify?"

"There are in every world a few like to it, that do respond to each of their fellows in all other worlds, and thereby serve as gateways and anchors for roads through the Void."

Analogues, Magnus realized-a few trees that had bred from the same ancestors, in the same locations in each universe. But surely there had to be more than a few in each world?

Perhaps not, considering the multiplicity of universes, and the factors of chance in environment and chromosomes, compounding one upon another geometrically with each generation. For a moment, he had a brief notion of the magnitude of the variables, and his brain reeled. It was almost impossible that any one individual would be duplicated in more than a few world-lines, let alone one so distant that its natural principles resembled magic.

But he was just such an individual himself-he, and Albertus.

For a moment, he shrank from the thought that there might be more of them-of him-in other universes, some of which he might not even have been able to imagine. The notion was startling, but intriguing-it tickled at his thoughts as a possible explanation for something he couldn't identify....