"It is as you said-I do not understand."

Jack seated himself upon a rock and, as did Morningstar, stared into the east.

After a time, "You told me that you wait here for the dawn," he said, "to see the sun rise above the horizon."

"Yes."

"I believe that you will wait here forever."

"It is possible."

"Don't you know? I thought you knew all things."

"I know many things, not all things. There is a difference."

"Then tell me some things. I have heard daysiders say that the core of the world is a molten demon, that the temperature increases as one descends toward it, that if the crust of the world be pierced then fires leap forth and melted minerals build volcanoes. Yet I know that volcanoes are the doings of fire elementals who, if disturbed, melt the ground about them and hurl it upward. They exist in small pockets. One may descend far past them without the temperature increasing. Traveling far enough, one comes to the center of the world, which is not molten- which contains the Machine, with great springs, as in a clock, and gears and pulleys and counterbalances. I know this to be true, for I have journeyed that way and been near to the Machine itself. Still, the daysiders have ways of demonstrating that their view is the correct one. I was almost convinced by the way one man explained it, though I knew better. How can this be?"

"You were both correct," said Morningstar. "It is the same thing that you both describe, although neither of you sees it as it really is. Each of you colors reality in keeping with your means of controlling it. For if it is uncontrollable, you fear it. Sometimes then, you color it incomprehensible. In your case, a machine; in theirs, a demon."

"The stars I know to be the houses of spirits and deities-some friendly, some unfriendly and many not caring. All are near at hand and can be reached. They will respond when properly invoked. Yet the daysiders say that they are vast distances away and that there is no intelligence there. Again...?"

"It is again but two ways of regarding reality, both of them correct."

"If there can be two ways, may there not be a third? Or a fourth? Or as many as there are people, for that matter?"

"Yes," said Morningstar.

"Then which one is correct?"

"They all are."

"But to see it as it is, beneath it all! Is this possible?"

Morningstar did not reply.

"You," said Jack. "Have you looked upon reality?"

"I see clouds and falling stones. I feel the wind."

"But by them, somehow, you know other things."

"I do not know everything."

"But have you looked upon reality?"

"I-Once... I await the sunrise. That is all."

Jack stared into the east, watching the pink-touched clouds. He listened to falling stones and felt the wind, but there was no wisdom there for him.

"You know where I go and what I would do," he said, after a time. "You know what will happen, and you know what I will be like a long while from now. From up here on your mountain you can see all these things. You probably even know when I will die my final death and the manner of its occurrence. You make my life seem futile, my consciousness a thing that is merely along for the ride, unable to influence events."

"No," said Morningstar.

"I feel that you say this only so that I will not be unhappy."

"No, I say it because there are shadows across your life which I cannot pierce."

"Why can't you?"

"It may be that our lives are in some way intertwined. Those things which affect my own existence are always hidden from me."

"That's something, anyway," said Jack.

"...Or it may be that, obtaining what you seek, you will place yourself beyond predictability."

Jack laughed.

"That would be pleasant," he said.

"Perhaps not so pleasant as you would think."

Jack shrugged.

"Whatever, I have no choice but to wait and see."

Far to his left and below-too far to hear its steady roar-a cataract plunged hundreds of feet and vanished from sight behind a rocky spur. Much farther below, a large stream meandered across a plain and wound its way through a dark forest. Farther still, he could see the smoke that rose above a village on its bank. For a moment, and without knowing why, he longed to walk through it, looking into windows and yards.

"Why is it," he asked, "that the Fallen Star who brought us knowledge of the Art, did not extend it to the daysiders as well?"

"Perhaps," said Morningstar, "the more theologically inclined among the lightlanders ask why he did not grant the boon of science to the darksiders. What difference does it make? I have heard the story that neither was the gift of the Fallen One, but both the inventions of man; that his gift, rather, was that of consciousness, which creates its own systems."

Then, panting and wheezing, with a great beating of dark green vanes, a dragon collapsed upon their shelf of stone. The wind had covered the sounds of its coming. It lay there, exhaling brief flames at a rapid rate. After a time, it rolled its apple-like red eyes upward.

"Hello, Morningstar," it said in silken tones. "I hope you do not mind my resting here a moment. Whoosh!" It exhaled a longer flame, illuminating the entire crag.

"You may rest here," said Morningstar.

The dragon noticed Jack, fixed him with his gaze, did not look away.

"I'm getting too old to fly over these mountains," it said. "But the nearest sheep are by that village on the other side."

Jack placed his foot within Morningstar's shadow as he asked, "Then why don't you move to the other side of the mountain?"

"The light bothers me," it replied. "I need a dark lair." Then, to Morningstar, "Is it yours?" it said.

"Is what mine?"

"The man."

''No. He is his own."

"Then I can save myself a journey and clean your ledge for you as well. He is larger than a sheep, though doubtless less tasty."

Jack moved entirely within the shadow as the dragon exhaled a fountain of flames in his direction. These vanished as he inhaled, and Jack breathed them back at the dragon.

It snorted in surprise and beat with a pinion at its eyes, which suddenly watered. A shadow crept toward it then and fell across its face. This dampened a fresh attempt at incineration.

"You!" it said, glimpsing the shadow-garbed figure. "I thought you a twilighter come to trouble dear Morningstar. But now I recognize you. You are the infamous creature who pillaged my hoard! What did you do with my pale gold diadem of turquoise stones, my fourteen finely wrought silver bracelets, and my sack of moon-bars which numbered twenty-seven?"

"Now they are a part of my hoard," said Jack, "and now you had best be going. Though you are larger than a piece of mutton, and doubtless less tasty, I may break my fast upon you."

He breathed another flame, and the dragon drew back.

"Desist!" said the dragon. "Give me leave to rest here but another moment, and I will depart."

"Now!" said Jack.

"You are cruel, shadow man." The dragon sighed. "Very well."

It stood, balancing its bulk with its long tail, then waddled and wheezed its way to the edge of the ridge. Glancing back, it said, "You are hateful," and then pushed itself over and was gone from sight.

Jack moved to the edge and watched it fall. When it seemed that it would be dashed to death upon the mountain's slope, its wings spread and caught the air; it rose then and glided in the direction of the village in the forest near the stream.

"I wonder as to the value of consciousness," said Jack, "if it does not change the nature of a beast."

"But the dragon was once a man," said Morningstar, ''and his greed transformed him into what he is now."

"I am familiar with the phenomenon," said Jack, "for I was once, briefly, a pack-rat."