from one another, even though they were small. As if everyone wants their privacy.
The road dipped and broadened, curving around in front of Saint Patrick’s. Nita stopped and looked at it for a moment. It was quite normal; a little white-painted church, with the tower off to one side of the building, and the bell with a circular pulley to make it go. There was a big field on one side, and visible behind it a hedge, and beyond that, some of Aunt Annie’s land, another field planted with oilseed rape, all afire with those bright yellow flowers. The hum of bees came from it, loud. Nita stood still and listened, smelled the air. No broken stained glass, no fire, no blackening.
She turned and looked off to her right. Well behind her, Nita could see Little Sugarloaf, which she had passed on her walk. And just beyond it, Great Sugarloaf, a very perfect cone, standing up straight, a sort of russet and green color this time of year; for in this heat, the bracken was beginning to go brown already. I wonder, she thought. Sideways…
She’d done it without wizardry yesterday. Now Nita stood there for a moment, and just looked. Not at Sugarloaf as it was, but as it could be; not this brown, but green. Nothing. Nothing…
…But it was green.
Her eyes widened a little. She looked at the nearby hedge. There were no flowers. She looked over her shoulder in panic at the church. The church looked just the same, but it was earlier in the year, much earlier. I wonder, she thought. How far can you take it? Do you have to be looking for anything in particular? Most wizardries required that you name the specifics that you wanted.
All right, she thought. What does it look like? And what does it look like for them— for the ones who went sideways? She looked at Sugarloaf again. What does it look like? Show me. Come on, show me…
There was no ripple, no sense of change, no special effects. One minute it was Sugarloaf, green as if with new spring. The next minute—
It was a city.
There were no such cities in the world. No one had ever built such towers, such spires. It might all have been made of glass, what she saw, or crystal: a glass mountain, a crystal city, all sheen and fire. It needed no sunlight to make it shine. It shed its light all around, and the other hills nearby all had shadows cast away from it. As she lookedm Nita wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t see something moving in some of those shadows.
But for the moment, almost all she could really see was the light, the fire; Sugarloaf all one great mass of tower upon tower, arches, architraves, buttresses, leaping up; an architecture men could not have imagined, since it violated so many of their laws. It was touched a little with the human idiom, true. But those who had built it and lived in it—were living in it—had been dealing with the human idiom for a while, and had become enamored of it. “They’re still here,” Tualha had said, and laughed.
Nita blinked, and let the vision go—
And it was all gone. All that remained was brown bracken and a plain granite-gray mountain with its head scraped bare.
Nita let a long breath out and went walking again, back up to the last hill that would lead her up to her aunt’s driveway. “That simple,” she said to herself. “That easy...”
For wizards, at least. At the moment. But it shouldn’t be that easy...
Something had better be done.
If only I could find out what...!
She headed back to the farm.
***
The next morning was the foxhunt. She missed the earliest part of the operation, having been up reading late again that night, and using the manual to chat with Kit.
She’d propped the manual up against an empty tea mug on the caravan’s little work table, so that she could look at Kit’s face on the page and let him see hers inside a similar live-vision window. They were both agreed that though they could do mindtouch at this distance, it was way too tiring. And, Nita thought, maybe
The road dipped and broadened, curving around in front of Saint Patrick’s. Nita stopped and looked at it for a moment. It was quite normal; a little white-painted church, with the tower off to one side of the building, and the bell with a circular pulley to make it go. There was a big field on one side, and visible behind it a hedge, and beyond that, some of Aunt Annie’s land, another field planted with oilseed rape, all afire with those bright yellow flowers. The hum of bees came from it, loud. Nita stood still and listened, smelled the air. No broken stained glass, no fire, no blackening.
She turned and looked off to her right. Well behind her, Nita could see Little Sugarloaf, which she had passed on her walk. And just beyond it, Great Sugarloaf, a very perfect cone, standing up straight, a sort of russet and green color this time of year; for in this heat, the bracken was beginning to go brown already. I wonder, she thought. Sideways…
She’d done it without wizardry yesterday. Now Nita stood there for a moment, and just looked. Not at Sugarloaf as it was, but as it could be; not this brown, but green. Nothing. Nothing…
…But it was green.
Her eyes widened a little. She looked at the nearby hedge. There were no flowers. She looked over her shoulder in panic at the church. The church looked just the same, but it was earlier in the year, much earlier. I wonder, she thought. How far can you take it? Do you have to be looking for anything in particular? Most wizardries required that you name the specifics that you wanted.
All right, she thought. What does it look like? And what does it look like for them— for the ones who went sideways? She looked at Sugarloaf again. What does it look like? Show me. Come on, show me…
There was no ripple, no sense of change, no special effects. One minute it was Sugarloaf, green as if with new spring. The next minute—
It was a city.
There were no such cities in the world. No one had ever built such towers, such spires. It might all have been made of glass, what she saw, or crystal: a glass mountain, a crystal city, all sheen and fire. It needed no sunlight to make it shine. It shed its light all around, and the other hills nearby all had shadows cast away from it. As she lookedm Nita wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t see something moving in some of those shadows.
But for the moment, almost all she could really see was the light, the fire; Sugarloaf all one great mass of tower upon tower, arches, architraves, buttresses, leaping up; an architecture men could not have imagined, since it violated so many of their laws. It was touched a little with the human idiom, true. But those who had built it and lived in it—were living in it—had been dealing with the human idiom for a while, and had become enamored of it. “They’re still here,” Tualha had said, and laughed.
Nita blinked, and let the vision go—
And it was all gone. All that remained was brown bracken and a plain granite-gray mountain with its head scraped bare.
Nita let a long breath out and went walking again, back up to the last hill that would lead her up to her aunt’s driveway. “That simple,” she said to herself. “That easy...”
For wizards, at least. At the moment. But it shouldn’t be that easy...
Something had better be done.
If only I could find out what...!
She headed back to the farm.
***
The next morning was the foxhunt. She missed the earliest part of the operation, having been up reading late again that night, and using the manual to chat with Kit.
She’d propped the manual up against an empty tea mug on the caravan’s little work table, so that she could look at Kit’s face on the page and let him see hers inside a similar live-vision window. They were both agreed that though they could do mindtouch at this distance, it was way too tiring. And, Nita thought, maybe
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