25

Christopher Stasheff

But—why not? If the “Base” was here to protect him, would he not be free to do as he wished? Perhaps, though, if he pressed one of these glowing circlets, the spirit would be angered, and would seek to revenge itself on him.

“Food and drink are prepared.”

lan started at the suddenness of the deep voice, then caught himself with a hand against the table in front of him… .

Something clicked.

His gaze darted down; he stared in horror at the heel of his hand. Slowly, he lifted it away, and saw that one of the green circlets had sunk into the table-top. A low humming began. He backed away against the chair, eyes wide. Had he angered the spirit?

One of the square windows before him suddenly filled with light. lan thought he must be looking out into the middle of a blizzard; there were only flecks of black and white, chasing each other past the window. At the same time, he heard a hiss begin, and the guardian spirit spoke. “Communication system is activated. Beacon is broadcasting distress signal.”

Then the voice was quiet. lan waited, tensed, but nothing more happened. He looked down at the circlet. Should he try to pry it back up out of the table-top?

No. The guardian spirit did not seem angered, and had not threatened to harm him. Better to leave well enough alone.

But the spirit spoke again. “Food and drink are served.”

lan looked up, heart hammering—but at last, the 26

words sank in. Food and drink! Suddenly, he was very hungry. But where were they? He searched all around the cabin, being careful not to touch anything. As he passed the hole with the spiral staircase, he caught the scent of fresh bread, eggs, and, wonder of wonders, pork! His mouth watered; he swallowed heavily, the hunger suddenly an ache in his belly.

The food was down the spiral staircase, then. But was it safe to go down there? Or was the guardian spirit enticing him for some other, unknown purpose? He stood stock-still at the top of the steps, wondering. Then hunger got the better of caution, and he started down.

The staircase was steep and narrow, made out of some eldritch material that was neither stone nor metal nor wood, but something of all three—clean and smooth to the touch like metal, warm like wood, and gray like stone. It was just wide enough for a full-grown man, very steep, and turned upon itself like a corkscrew.

His eyes came below the level of the floor, and he stopped, staring in amazement.

Ten feet below him was a circle of the odd moss, wider than the hut in which he’d lived all his life.

The walls sloped inward, like the inside of a cone with its top cut off. The “egg,” then, was the top of this cone, and this chamber was underground!

The strange, warm moss covered another floor, and this time, that moss was deep blue. Great padded chairs stood near him, and across the room stood a round table with two stools that had backs rising up—why, they were lords’ chairs! Trepidation rose in 27

him all over again, fear at trespeassing in a place so clearly the property of some great lord—but hunger was greater than fear. Two chairs! Was there company, then? Or was it merely that this hiding place was large enough for two people at a time?

A lord’s hideaway for a dalliance with a peasant wench!

But on the table was a plate with thin slices of meat and, wonder of wonders, a silver fork and spoon and knife beside it! He blinked, overawed by the luxury, and, very hesitantly and carefully, came to the table.

Nothing bad happened.

He slid up onto one of the lords’ chairs and, ignoring the knife and fork, began to eat with his fingers. If they caught him here, at least they would not be able to say he had stolen—for surely, stealing such treasure as a silver fork would be cause for hanging a serf!

He ate like a wolf, and the food was gone very quickly. Then he huddled back in the chair, wishing there were more, and staring at the steaming cup in front of him. The meat had been salty, and his thirst grew as he stared at the cup. Finally, he reached out and lifted it by the little handle. It almost overbal-anced and spilled, but he caught it in time; the fluid within it was very hot and a dark brown. He sipped at it and made a face. It was very bitter. How could a lord like such stuff? He set it down and, instead, picked up a glittering, clear cup filled with orange liquid, sipped it carefully, decided it was very good, and drank it down. Then he looked about him, 28

A WIZABD IN ABSENTIA

frowning. Strange that the dwarves had not found this place….

He shrugged. There was no point in wondering at it. He slid down from the chair. It was still daylight outside, and he could not go out again until night.

How he would get out was another problem; but the spirit had been good to him so far, and he would worry about that difficulty when the time came. He stretched himself out on the moss—it was very soft—pillowed his head on his arm, and was very quickly asleep.

When Magnus entered the dining room in black complet and snowy shirtfront and neckcloth. Pelisse clapped her hands. “Oh! How handsome you look!”

Robert glared at her. “Overdoing it a bit, aren’t we, Pelisse?” -

“Oh, do be still, Robert! Even you must admit that he looks ever so elegant!”

“Yes, Robert, you must,” Aunt Matilda said, with a glare.

“Well… a sight better than that outlandish outfit he was wearing this afternoon,” Robert mumbled.

Magnus felt his face flush, and was all the more careful to hold his expression immobile. “Literally outlandish, of course, and quite medieval—just the sort of thing you would wear on my homeworld.”

“Yes, but not in civilized society, is it, old boy?”

Magnus let the “old boy” pass. “Perhaps you mean modern society—though I do note that-these gar-ments tend much more toward the turn of the century.”