refuse to acknowledge the gift in themselves.”
“So, what you’re saying is that those that can ‘sing’ to these forces are looked upon as specialists here, as we, in my world, would view a doctor or engineer?”
“Specialists, yes, but there is also a mystical ‘respect’ involved. I believe that is what you perceived as the fearfulness amongst the villagers.”
“Did you teach Lorgin?”
“ Teaching. It is an ongoing process throughout one’s existence in this plane.”
Deana shook her head. “This is very different from my world.”
“Not really. Yours is a world based on technology. Our world is based on mystical principles you call magic. The machines from your world which I have seen in Lorgin’s mind would be as legends to our people. They would regard your devices as you would stories of the unicorn. Although there are similarities, what is real for us is not always real in your world, and vice-versa. For this reason, our universes must exist independently of each other. Knowledge of each other would disrupt the very fabric of existence, the basis of reality for each of our spaces, causing total annihilation.”
Deana gulped. “Sort of like matter and anti-matter combining?”
Yaniff nodded. “A very similar concept.”
“Basis of reality…a great scientist of ours talked about reality in frames of reference; he called it relativity.”
“Then he was a great mystic.”
“Um, I’m not sure he would’ve viewed it that way.”
Yaniff smiled wryly. “Perhaps not.”
An uncomfortable thought occurred to Deana. “Yaniff, I am aware of your existence. Wouldn’t this constitute a threat to our universes?”
Yaniff looked at her thoughtfully. The fact that he knew she would not be returning to her world must not figure into his response. He had a trust to Lorgin, and it was the younger man’s responsibility to guide her to her destiny. His reply was measured.
“Not necessarily. You would have no proof of our existence, other than your word. While one’s word is good enough in our land, in a world based on fact and science, I believe it will not be enough. They will need irrefutable evidence, and even then belief would be slow in coming. Such is the nature of the existence of your kind.”
Deana sighed. He was right about that. No one would believe her in a million years. Worse, they’d probably throw her in Chumley’s if she became too vocal about it. The best she could do was enjoy the adventure, and when she was back in her own living room, convince herself that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Perhaps if she wrote it down as a story…
As her thoughts wandered along these lines, something occurred to her. “Yaniff, if your universe is based on magic as you say, why does Lorgin have a translation device?”
Yaniff smiled. “The device is not based on technological principles, Adeeann. It is”—he paused, searching for the right way to explain it to her—“for lack of better words, an intricately contained ‘conjure’ of the Guild. The Guild of Aviara produce many such devices for the Alliance, a useful tool in trade and negotiation.”
“That’s interesting; like what?”
“Well, for instance, the clothes you are wearing.”
Deana gazed dismally down at her drab outfit. “They made this stunning creation?”
“No, but the merchant told Lorgin that the Weavers’ Guild of Aviara cast a spell on it so that it would continually cleanse and renew itself.”
“Terrific,” Deana responded dryly.
Yaniff stroked his chin. “I see what you mean; one might not necessarily want such an outfit to renew itself. But, in spite of the appearance, I assure you Lorgin insisted on the Weavers’ Guild stamp. Such a stamp marks the cloth as being of the highest quality.”
And costly, no doubt. Devices, Yaniff called them. They would explain many little questions she had, oddities that stuck in the back of her mind; things that didn’t quite jell with the way things
“So, what you’re saying is that those that can ‘sing’ to these forces are looked upon as specialists here, as we, in my world, would view a doctor or engineer?”
“Specialists, yes, but there is also a mystical ‘respect’ involved. I believe that is what you perceived as the fearfulness amongst the villagers.”
“Did you teach Lorgin?”
“ Teaching. It is an ongoing process throughout one’s existence in this plane.”
Deana shook her head. “This is very different from my world.”
“Not really. Yours is a world based on technology. Our world is based on mystical principles you call magic. The machines from your world which I have seen in Lorgin’s mind would be as legends to our people. They would regard your devices as you would stories of the unicorn. Although there are similarities, what is real for us is not always real in your world, and vice-versa. For this reason, our universes must exist independently of each other. Knowledge of each other would disrupt the very fabric of existence, the basis of reality for each of our spaces, causing total annihilation.”
Deana gulped. “Sort of like matter and anti-matter combining?”
Yaniff nodded. “A very similar concept.”
“Basis of reality…a great scientist of ours talked about reality in frames of reference; he called it relativity.”
“Then he was a great mystic.”
“Um, I’m not sure he would’ve viewed it that way.”
Yaniff smiled wryly. “Perhaps not.”
An uncomfortable thought occurred to Deana. “Yaniff, I am aware of your existence. Wouldn’t this constitute a threat to our universes?”
Yaniff looked at her thoughtfully. The fact that he knew she would not be returning to her world must not figure into his response. He had a trust to Lorgin, and it was the younger man’s responsibility to guide her to her destiny. His reply was measured.
“Not necessarily. You would have no proof of our existence, other than your word. While one’s word is good enough in our land, in a world based on fact and science, I believe it will not be enough. They will need irrefutable evidence, and even then belief would be slow in coming. Such is the nature of the existence of your kind.”
Deana sighed. He was right about that. No one would believe her in a million years. Worse, they’d probably throw her in Chumley’s if she became too vocal about it. The best she could do was enjoy the adventure, and when she was back in her own living room, convince herself that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Perhaps if she wrote it down as a story…
As her thoughts wandered along these lines, something occurred to her. “Yaniff, if your universe is based on magic as you say, why does Lorgin have a translation device?”
Yaniff smiled. “The device is not based on technological principles, Adeeann. It is”—he paused, searching for the right way to explain it to her—“for lack of better words, an intricately contained ‘conjure’ of the Guild. The Guild of Aviara produce many such devices for the Alliance, a useful tool in trade and negotiation.”
“That’s interesting; like what?”
“Well, for instance, the clothes you are wearing.”
Deana gazed dismally down at her drab outfit. “They made this stunning creation?”
“No, but the merchant told Lorgin that the Weavers’ Guild of Aviara cast a spell on it so that it would continually cleanse and renew itself.”
“Terrific,” Deana responded dryly.
Yaniff stroked his chin. “I see what you mean; one might not necessarily want such an outfit to renew itself. But, in spite of the appearance, I assure you Lorgin insisted on the Weavers’ Guild stamp. Such a stamp marks the cloth as being of the highest quality.”
And costly, no doubt. Devices, Yaniff called them. They would explain many little questions she had, oddities that stuck in the back of her mind; things that didn’t quite jell with the way things
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