Your tongue’s gonna fall off if it waves around much more than that!”
Ponch sat down beside him and leaned on Kit in a companionable manner, panting energetically and looking entirely satisfied with life.
“Look,” Kit said. “How’re you doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know a little,” Kit said. “You told me yesterday, ‘You’re not there until you do something.’ What did you do?”
“I wanted you.”
“Yes, but that was the first time.”
“That’s what I did.”
Kit sighed and put his head down on his knees, thinking. “This,” he said, “what you did just now. How did you do this? Where did all these squirrels come from?”
“I want squirrels.”
“Yeah, and boy, have you got them,” said Kit, looking around him in amusement. The two of them were completely surrounded by squirrels, an ever-growing crowd of them, all sitting up on their little hind legs and staring at Ponch, all intent and quiet; as if someone in a whimsical mood had swapped them for the seagulls in The Birds. “Where did they all come from?”
Ponch sat quiet for a moment, and stopped panting as a look of intense concentration came over his face. Then he looked at Kit and said, “I wanted them here.”
Suddenly Kit got it. The way Ponch used wanted was not the way it would have been used in Cyene; it was the form of the word used in the Speech. And in the wizardly language, the verb was not passive. The closest equivalent in English would be willed ; in the Speech, the word implies not just desire but creation.
“You made them,” Kit said.
“I wanted them to be here. And here they are.” The dog jumped up and began to bounce for sheer joy. “Isn’t it great?! ”
Kit rubbed his nose and wondered about that. “What happens when you catch them?” he asked, to buy himself time.
“I shake them around a lot,” Ponch said, “and then I’m sorry for them.”
Kit grinned, for this was more or less the way things went in the real world. But then he paused, surprised. He’d slipped and spoken to Ponch in English, but the dog had understood him.
“Are you able to understand me when I’m not using the Speech?” Kit asked.
Ponch looked amused. “Only here. I made it so I would always know what you’re saying.”
“Wow,” Kit said. He looked around him again at the patient squirrels. “Have you made anything else?”
“Lots of things. Why don’t you make something?”
“Uh,” Kit said, and stopped. The ramifications of this were beginning to sink in, and he wanted to make some preparations. “Not right this minute. Look, you wanna go see Tom and Carl?”
Ponch began to bounce around again. “Dog biscuits!”
“Yeah, probably they’ll give you some. And if they have a spare clue for me to chew on, that wouldn’t hurt, either.” Kit got up. “You done with these guys?”
“Sure. They wait for me. Even if they didn’t, I can always make more.”
“Okay. Let’s go home.”
Ponch acquired a look of concentration. A second later, the landscape went out, as if a light had simply been turned off behind it, and Kit felt a tug on the leash. He followed it—
—and they stepped out again into early morning in Kit’s backyard: birdsong, dew, the sound of a single station wagon going down the street in front of the house as the newspaper guy threw the morning paper into people’s driveways…
Kit took a deep breath of the morning air and relaxed. From above them came an annoyed chattering noise. Ponch wheeled around and began dancing on his hind legs and barking.
“Didn’t you just have enough of those?” Kit said. “Shut up; you’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood! Come on. We need to go see Tom.”
***
Nita rolled over in her bed that morning, feeling strangely achy. At first she wondered if she was catching a cold; but it didn’t seem to be that. Probably it’s just from being upset, she thought. Hey, I wonder…
She got up and padded over to the
Ponch sat down beside him and leaned on Kit in a companionable manner, panting energetically and looking entirely satisfied with life.
“Look,” Kit said. “How’re you doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know a little,” Kit said. “You told me yesterday, ‘You’re not there until you do something.’ What did you do?”
“I wanted you.”
“Yes, but that was the first time.”
“That’s what I did.”
Kit sighed and put his head down on his knees, thinking. “This,” he said, “what you did just now. How did you do this? Where did all these squirrels come from?”
“I want squirrels.”
“Yeah, and boy, have you got them,” said Kit, looking around him in amusement. The two of them were completely surrounded by squirrels, an ever-growing crowd of them, all sitting up on their little hind legs and staring at Ponch, all intent and quiet; as if someone in a whimsical mood had swapped them for the seagulls in The Birds. “Where did they all come from?”
Ponch sat quiet for a moment, and stopped panting as a look of intense concentration came over his face. Then he looked at Kit and said, “I wanted them here.”
Suddenly Kit got it. The way Ponch used wanted was not the way it would have been used in Cyene; it was the form of the word used in the Speech. And in the wizardly language, the verb was not passive. The closest equivalent in English would be willed ; in the Speech, the word implies not just desire but creation.
“You made them,” Kit said.
“I wanted them to be here. And here they are.” The dog jumped up and began to bounce for sheer joy. “Isn’t it great?! ”
Kit rubbed his nose and wondered about that. “What happens when you catch them?” he asked, to buy himself time.
“I shake them around a lot,” Ponch said, “and then I’m sorry for them.”
Kit grinned, for this was more or less the way things went in the real world. But then he paused, surprised. He’d slipped and spoken to Ponch in English, but the dog had understood him.
“Are you able to understand me when I’m not using the Speech?” Kit asked.
Ponch looked amused. “Only here. I made it so I would always know what you’re saying.”
“Wow,” Kit said. He looked around him again at the patient squirrels. “Have you made anything else?”
“Lots of things. Why don’t you make something?”
“Uh,” Kit said, and stopped. The ramifications of this were beginning to sink in, and he wanted to make some preparations. “Not right this minute. Look, you wanna go see Tom and Carl?”
Ponch began to bounce around again. “Dog biscuits!”
“Yeah, probably they’ll give you some. And if they have a spare clue for me to chew on, that wouldn’t hurt, either.” Kit got up. “You done with these guys?”
“Sure. They wait for me. Even if they didn’t, I can always make more.”
“Okay. Let’s go home.”
Ponch acquired a look of concentration. A second later, the landscape went out, as if a light had simply been turned off behind it, and Kit felt a tug on the leash. He followed it—
—and they stepped out again into early morning in Kit’s backyard: birdsong, dew, the sound of a single station wagon going down the street in front of the house as the newspaper guy threw the morning paper into people’s driveways…
Kit took a deep breath of the morning air and relaxed. From above them came an annoyed chattering noise. Ponch wheeled around and began dancing on his hind legs and barking.
“Didn’t you just have enough of those?” Kit said. “Shut up; you’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood! Come on. We need to go see Tom.”
***
Nita rolled over in her bed that morning, feeling strangely achy. At first she wondered if she was catching a cold; but it didn’t seem to be that. Probably it’s just from being upset, she thought. Hey, I wonder…
She got up and padded over to the
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