“He does seem okay.” It wasn’t easy to keep my reply as low, the way her
relief washed over me.
“Nothing bad registered. Nothing. Oh, it was a superficial scan, like
the others I was able to make before. I couldn’t be sure then and I
can’t be absolutely certain now. But there is a difference, not merely
in his appearance and behavior.”
“Uh-huh. Extracting information even when your data points are below
noise level–”
“And I know him. He’s himself again, completely himself.”
Let’s hope he stays that way, I thought, and kicked the thought
downstairs.
Will returned carrying a tray loaded with crackers, cheese, glasses, and
three frosty bottles of Vanderdecken. Having set it before us, he put a
saucerful of the snacks on the mantel for Edgar. “What a change in you,”
his sister said frankly. “I’m so glad.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
“How did it happen?”
He extracted pipe and pouch from assorted pockets. “Well, after we
talked on the phone I heated some soup. Afterward I couldn’t stay on my
feet and went to bed. Slept the clock around and more; must’ve been ten
A.M. at least when I woke. Ravenous, if your familiar will pardon the
expression. Did horrid things to a steak and appurtenances, soon felt
marvelous, got an idea, worked on it, and was relaxing for a bit when
you called.”
“But the cause?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? What caused the malaise in the first place?”
“Unless we learn that,” said Ginny slowly, “we can’t tell whether it
will recur.”
“Or, if it does, how to fix it,” I added.
Will nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that.” He stayed calm. “Off and
on throughout, when I had a chance and was in shape to. Who wouldn’t?
Likewise today, till my idea seized me.” He filled the pipe and tamped
it with a thumb. “You’re the expert, of course, Ginny. In this field, my
notions are inevitably vague. But I wonder if my trouble hasn’t been a
simple matter of resonance.”
“Hm.” She frowned. “Naturally, that occurred to me, but since you
wouldn’t agree to a thorough examination–”
He darkened for a minute. “You know why. I told you. Privacy. I have not
told you how much turmoil this has brought to my conscious-ness.
Imagine, though. Would you have let me probe you, however lovingly,
however confidentially, unless you’d become more desperate than I was?”
I, at least, could imagine; and Ginny was my wife, for Heaven’s sake.
After all, Will hadn’t been continuously miserable. Those were episodes.
In between them he was more or less okay.
“Resonances?” I asked.
He snapped fire from his ring. Ginny explained for him: “Goetic forces
were surely striking at the project, like waves against a seawall, long
before they broke through. Will was a large part of its original and
continuing inspiration. By the law of sympathy, he may have responded
to– shall I say backwashes of those thwarted tides. They could have
produced depression, confusion, and psychosomatic illness.”
“Why didn’t it happen to anybody else?”
“His innate personality may make him unusually vulnerable. And then his
early experience with the Fair Folk may have made him hypersensitive to
such influences, almost like getting an allergy. In any event, now the
wall has been breached, the damage has been done, the assault is in
abeyance, the whole situation has changed.”
She did not say it was less dangerous.
“I’d guess the aftereffects took this past week to wear off,” Will
proposed. “An optimistic diagnosis, perhaps, but why not accept it till
further notice?” His cheer had revived. He sat down across the coffee
table from us, filled pilsner glasses, and raised his. “To a better
future. Kan bei. Or proost, I believe, is the Dutch word. What’s the
Czech toast, Steve?”
“I dunno. I’ve heard my family doesn’t even spell the name right any
longer.” We clinked rims. The drink was cool and tingly. “How about
dinner with us again this evening?” I invited.
“Thanks, but sorry,” he replied. “I told you I had a great idea today. I
want to develop it further, turn in as early as possible, get up before
moonrise, and take my portable specterscope into the desert.”