“Would it not be better to try mending the one we’ve got than to undo the work of eons?”
“Coward!” he cried, leaping to his feet. “I knew you would say that again!”
“Well, wouldn’t it?”
He began to pace.
“How many times have we been through this?” he asked. “Nothing has changed! You are afraid to try it!”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But do you not feel that something for which you have given so much is worth some effort-some additional sacrifice-if there is even a possibility of saving it?”
“You still do not understand,” he said. “I cannot but think that a damaged thing should be destroyed-and hopefully replaced. The nature of my personal injury is such that I cannot envision repair. I am damaged in just this fashion. My feelings are foreordained.”
“If the Jewel can create a new Pattern, why will it not serve to repair the old one, end our troubles, heal your spirit?”
He approached and stood before me.
“Where is your memory?” he said. “You know that it would be infinitely more difficult to repair the damage than it would be to start over again. Even the Jewel could more easily destroy it than repair it. Have your forgotten what it is like out there?” He gestured toward the wall behind him. “Do you want to go and look at it again?”
“Yes,” I said. “I would like that. Let’s go.”
I rose and looked down at him. His control over his form had begun slipping when he had grown angry. He had already lost three or four inches in height, the image of my face was melting back into his gnomelike features, and a noticeable bulge was growing between his shoulders, had already been visible when he had gestured.
His eyes widened and he studied my face.
“You really mean it,” he said after a moment. “All right, then. Let us go.”
He turned and moved toward the big metal door. I followed him. He used both hands to turn the key. Then he threw his weight against it. I moved to help him, but he brushed me aside with extraordinary strength before giving the door a final shove. It made a grating noise and moved outward into a fully opened position. I was immediately struck by a strange, somehow familiar odor.
Dworkin stepped through and paused. He located what looked to be a long staff leaning against the wall off to his right. He struck it several times against the ground and its upper end began to glow. It lit up the area fairly well, revealing a narrow tunnel into which he now advanced. I followed him and it widened before too long, so that I was able to come abreast of him. The odor grew stronger, and I could almost place it. It had been something fairly recent. . .
It was close to eighty paces before our way took a turn to the left and upward. We passed then through a little appendix like area. It was strewn with broken bones, and a large metal ring was set in the rock a couple of feet above the floor. Affixed thereto was a glittering chain, which fell to the floor and trailed on ahead like a line of molten droplets cooling in the gloom.
Our way narrowed again after that and Dworkin took the lead once more. After a brief time, he turned an abrupt corner and I heard him muttering. I nearly ran into him when I made the turn myself. He was crouched down and groping with his left hand inside a shadowy cleft. When I heard the soft cawing noise and saw that the chain vanished into the opening I realized what it was and where we were.
“Good Wixer,” I heard him say. “I am not going far. It is all right, good Wixer. Here is something to chew on.”
From where he had fetched whatever he tossed the beast, I do not know. But the purple griffin, which I had now advanced far enough to glimpse as it stirred within its lair, accepted the offering with a toss of its head and a series of crunching noises. Dworkin grinned up at me.