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Puck went into hysterics, rolling on the ground.
Father Al nodded. "Very convincing artificial horsehide, over a metal body. And
you've a computer for a brain, haven't you?" He stared at the horse.
Slowly, Fess nodded.
"Well." Father Al stood straight, fists on his hips. "Nice to know the background,
isn't it? Now let me give you the full story."
He did, in modern English. Fess's head snapped up at the name of Angus
McAran; apparently he'd had some contact with the head time-spider before.
Encouraged, Father Al kept the synopsis going through his meeting with Yorick,
at mention of whose name, Fess gave a loud snort. Well, that had sort of been
Father Al's reaction, too.
"So if McAran's right," Father Al wound up, "something's going to happen to
Rod Gallowglass, wherever he's gone, that's going to waken some great Power
that's been lying dormant in him all along. Whatever the nature of that power, it
might tempt him toward evil without his even realizing it. After all, some
things that seem right at the moment such as revenge can really lead one, bit
by bit, into spiritual corruption, and great evil."
The horse tossed its head, and began to scratch with its hoof. Father Al watched,
holding his breath, and saw the words appear: POWER CORRUPTS. He felt
relief tremble through him; he was getting through! "Yes, exactly. So you see, it
might be to his advantage to have a clergyman handy. But more than a clergyman
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I'm also an anthropologist, and my life's study has been magic."
Fess's head came up sharply.
Father Al nodded. "Yes. I suppose you might call me a theoretical magician; I
can't work a single spell myself, but I know quite a bit about how a man with
magical Power might do so. There's a good chance I might be able to help him
figure out how to use his new Power to bring himself and his family back here!"
But Fess lowered his head and scratched in the dirt again: AND A GREATER
CHANCE THAT YOU, TOO, WOULD BE LOST.
Father Al thrust out his chin. "That is my concern. I know the risk, and I take it
willingly. It's worth it, if I can help this poor fellow and his family and
possibly avert a spiritual catastrophe. Have you considered the possible heresies
that might arise, if a man should suddenly seem to have real magical powers?"
The horse's eyes seemed to lose focus for a few seconds, and Father Al was
impressed; not many computers would have any theology on storage in their
memory banks. Then Fess's eyes came back into focus again, and Father Al said
quickly, "So I have some vested interest in trying to help your master, you see.
Properly instructed, he could be a mighty asset to the Church on this planet. But
left to himself, he might fall into the temptations that power brings, find a way to
return here from wherever he's gone, and become the leader of a heresy that
could rock the Terran Sphere. We dare not leave him there."
The horse lowered his head again, scratching with his hoof: HIS SAFE
RETURN IS ALL.
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Father Al frowned, puzzling it out, wishing the robot had been equipped with
speech. Then he nodded, understanding. "I see. It makes no difference to you if
he comes back a heretic or a saint, as long as he comes back. But don't you see,
with my knowledge of the workings of magic to aid him, his chances of
returning are increased? Much increased, if you'll pardon my boasting."
The synthetic eyes stared intently into Father Al's, for a few minutes that seemed
to stretch out into aeons. Then, finally, the great horse nodded, and turned away,
beckoning.
"I scarce can credit it!" Puck cried. "Thou hast persuaded him!"
Father Al breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I scarcely can believe it, either. It's the
first time in my life I've ever made any headway with a computer." He sent up a
quick, silent prayer of thanks to St. Vidicon, and followed Fess.
The black horse stopped, and looked back expectantly. Father Al trotted to catch
up, and came to a halt to see a line of stones laid in the grass the threshold of a
Gate to where?
The great black horse stood to the side, waiting.
Father Al looked up at him, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "Wish
me luck, then. You may be the last rational being I see for a long, long time."
And, without giving himself a chance to think about it, he stepped forward.
Nothing happened, so he took another step and another, and another&
& and suddenly realized that the trees had silver trunks.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gwen stopped suddenly. "Hist!"
"Sure," Rod said agreeably. "Why not?"
"Oh, be still! I catch a trace of something I like not!"
"Pursuit?" Rod turned serious.
Gwen shook her head, frowning. " Tis Duke Foidin, and in converse; yet I have
only a sense of that which he doth speak with, and it's somewhat threatening."
She looked down at her children. "Dost thou sense aught more?"
Silently, they shook their heads. " 'Tis not altogether human, Mama," Magnus
contributed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rod noticed Elidor trembling. He caught the boy's
shoulder. "Steady, there, lad. You're with us, now." He turned back to Gwen. "Of
course, the wise thing to do would be to sneak on by."
Gwen nodded.
Rod turned away. Silently, they picked their way between white trunks in a
dazzle of moonlight reflected off silver leaves. After about ten minutes, Gwen
hissed, "It doth grow stronger."
Rod didn't falter. "So they're on our line of march. We'll worry about avoiding
them when we know where they are."
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Then, suddenly, they were out of the trees, at the top of a rise. Below them, in a
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