THE CRUCIBLE OF TIME BY JOHN BRUNNER

“It’s so simple you wouldn’t believe it. I didn’t when I first came here. He uses dry fungus-spores, and a calamar soaked in fish-oil, and two rocks. Not just ordinary rock, a kind that has some of the fire-essence in it. Watch!”

Something sparkled. A flame leapt up, taller than himself, and Jing jumped back in alarm. He risked tumbling into the hot pool; Twig caught him, uttering a sour laugh.

“Doesn’t that impress you?”

“I guess so…” Jing was trembling. “But what to do with? Is not same fire and in—as in sky! Is under the ground!”

Twig said with authority, “The idea that fire belongs to the sky is false. Using it, we’ve made—not grown but made—things that were never in the world before.”

“Did you make Count’s blade?” Jing ventured, prepared to be impressed.

“Oh, no. That’s a natural rock you find a lot of around here. But it too must have fire in its essence, or heat at any rate. It seems to be like this stuff.” Twig reached to another ledge and brought down a clawful of smooth transparent objects shaped like half a raindrop, most bluish, some greenish, one or two clear. “The peasants’ children use these for playthings. They hate me because I take away the best ones for more important use. On a fine day you can catch sunfire with them and set light to a dry calamar or a dead leaf. What better proof could there be of my opinions? Look, here’s a particularly clear one!”

To Jing’s touch the droplet was relatively cool, so he could not imagine how fire could be trapped within. All of a sudden, however, as he was inspecting it, he noticed something remarkable. At a certain distance he could see his claw through it, only enlarged.

“It make big!” he breathed.

“Oh, that too! But it’s no use holding it up to the sky. Every youngling in the valley must have tried that, and me too, I confess. But it won’t make the moon or stars any plainer, and as for looking at the sun—well!”

“I can have, please? Not to start fires. Is good for look my star-maps.”

Twig started. He said in an altered voice, “Now, why didn’t I think of that? But of course I never saw maps like yours before, with such fine detail … Sure, take it. We keep finding them all the time. Now we’d best get back to the castle.”

He padded away, exuding an aura of annoyance.

This was no astrologer: Jing was satisfied on that point. Maybe when it came to trying this or that in a fire Twig’s record-keeping might be accurate, but given he could overlook such an obvious use for a magnifying drop it seemed unlikely. Anyhow, what value could his data nave? It was inconceivable that fire in heaven could be identical with fire underground!

So perhaps there were several kinds of fire? And surely there must be some way of enlarging the heavens if it could be done at close range…?

Jing sighed heavily. He had to make an immediate decision: whether to remain here in the hope that studying the stars uninterruptedly for longer than he had imagined possible would bring unexpected insights, or leave by the final autumn boat. But the continent was already in the grip of winter; he could scarcely reach home any sooner, if he left now, than if he stayed until spring. And Waw-Yint would certainly not forgive him for abandoning his mission. He was not one to be bought off with such petty marvels as a magnifying drop. True, he was old, and by now might well be dead—

Shocked at his own disloyalty, Jing firmly canceled such thoughts. No, he must remain, and if necessary next year carry on beyond the ocean, riding one of the half-legendary giant barqs of which they spoke in Yown and Forb … if they were not compounded of dreams.

Besides, this magnifier … It had seized his imagination, an ideal tool for astrologers hampered only by its present imperfection. He had been brought up to believe that perfection inhered in everything, even people; it needed only to be sought out.

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