She was also the object of admiration of a wealthy young man who stopped at her stall at least once a day — he wore a purple doublet, a hat that reminded Niall of an inverted flower bowl, and rode a chestnut mare. This young man was regarded with dislike and derision by the male stallholders, particularly the butcher; but Niall sensed that their hostility was based on envy, and on a certain fear that the redhead would one day surrender her virtue to the lovesick gallant. Niall entertained the same suspicion; one day toward evening, when most of the stallholders had packed up and left, he had seen the young man present her with a bouquet of flowers, and — after glancing around to see that no one was watching — the woman had accepted them and hidden them under her stall. But when he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear, she had shaken her head vigorously. And the butcher, who had come out from behind his stall at that moment, had scowled angrily, and as the young man rode away, he spat on the ground.
Now, as Niall gazed out of the window, he witnessed an interesting scene between the red-haired woman and a boatman who had moored his craft by the first flight of steps that ran up from the river to the market square. The boatman was carrying a large fish — it must have been more than a foot long — and was obviously trying to persuade her to buy it. She shook her head, as if objecting that he was asking too much. He leaned forward and said something; she looked thoughtful, then finally nodded her head and handed over money and a basket of a green vegetable not unlike cabbage. The man went behind the stall and placed the fish in a box. Then, as he was turning away, he took the woman’s arm and pulled her toward him. Niall could not see what happened next — the man’s body was between them — but the woman’s reaction was to give him a box on the ear that made him stagger. The woman on the next stall began to laugh loudly — she had a most unpleasant cackle — and this seemed to enrage the man, who tried to take back his fish. The woman grabbed the box and held it out of his reach. Within a few seconds there was a noisy quarrel involving at least half a dozen men and two women, as well as a half-starved mongrel, which barked furiously and tried to bite the fisherman’s leg. The man quickly got the worst of it — he had clearly expected to be allowed certain liberties in exchange for selling the fish cheaply — and he slunk off to his boat, leaving the basket of vegetables behind. And the stallholders, obviously sorry that the diversion was over, went reluctantly back to work. The overexcited dog went on barking until a man gave it a kick that lifted it off the ground; it vanished toward the river with a pathetic yelp.
Niall had been watching all this with such total absorption that he jumped in alarm when the old man’s voice spoke in his ear. “I am sorry I have taken so long. The task was more complicated than I expected.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been watching that woman down there.” He was struck by a sudden suspicion. “Or did you arrange it all to keep me amused?”
“No. Today is market day. If you had been here yesterday the square would have been empty.” He pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of the table. Since he was unreal, this pantomime was unnecessary; yet, as he had often explained to Niall, the crowning achievement of the Steegmaster was the extraordinary detail of its realism.
Niall spooned up his melted ice cream. “Did those people down there really exist?”
The old man looked at him with mild reproof. “Since the camera was not invented in 1490, that is obviously an impossibility.”
Niall looked down at the red-haired woman, who was now showing off her fish to the woman on the next stall.
“So if I was a magician, and I could travel back to 1490, these people wouldn’t be there?”
The old man sighed. “What you call time travel is a verbal misunderstanding. Time is merely another name for process. In theory, process can be reversed, but to restore the universe to its state of five minutes ago would take an infinite amount of energy. Therefore, to travel into the past would be quite impossible.”
Niall asked: “And is that also true of the future?”
“Not quite. Anyone can predict the future. I can tell you the exact time the sun will rise tomorrow. I can even tell you what the weather will be like. Yet I am not a magician.”
Niall said: “I dreamed of the future last night, and when I woke up, it happened exactly as I dreamed it. Does that mean I am a magician?”
The old man shrugged. “I am not programmed to answer that question.” Then, oblivious to Niall’s grimace of frustration, he went on: “Do you wish to hear what I learned about the nature of magic?”
Niall sighed. “Very well.”
“I admit that I was mistaken to believe that it was merely an irrational superstition.” Niall looked up with renewed interest. “It appears to be an oddly consistent system of belief, whose foundations cannot be clearly distinguished from those of religion.”
Niall frowned; he always found abstract jargon difficult to absorb.
“I see.”
“As far as I can see, it appears to be based upon a number of propositions. The best known of these is attributed to the legendary founder of magic, Hermes Trismegistos, and it states: ‘As above, so below.’ This appears to mean that every man is a miniature version of the whole universe. ”
Niall tried to look as if he understood.
The old man went on: “But according to magical philosophy, the universe does not consist of dead matter — in fact, there is no such thing as dead matter. Everything in the universe is alive.”
Niall said: “Like that stone figure I tried to bring into the tower?”
“Possibly.” The tone was noncommittal. “The magical view is that all matter exists outside space and time, in a multidimensional universe. We only see one small aspect of a being that reaches back through many invisible planes of existence. It follows, of course, that human beings also exist on many planes of existence, although they are not aware of it. According to the Cabalists, there are ten planes of existence, the highest being God and the lowest earth. In human beings, these planes of existence are planes of consciousness. Am I going too fast for you?”
“No.” This last comment had aroused Niall’s attention. “So there are ten planes of consciousness?”
“According to the Cabala.”
“Are you saying that if you could get up to a higher plane, you’d be a magician?”
“That appears to be the position.”
Niall shook his head and sighed. “I don’t follow that. If I can rise to a higher level of consciousness, surely the only person it affects is me? It’s like getting drunk. When I’ve had a few glasses of mead, everyone seems much nicer. But they haven’t really changed — it’s just me.”
“A perceptive comment. But according to magical philosophy, the best way to change the world is to change your own consciousness. One alchemist wrote: ‘Magic is the art of causing changes in consciousness at will.’ According to the same writer, luck is an example of the use of magic. When you feel lucky, you usually are lucky. You somehow make lucky things happen to you. And people who feel unlucky seem to make unlucky things happen to them. According to another alchemist, this is the real meaning of ‘As above, so below.’ Everyone knows that the mind can be affected by the external world — that a dull day can make you feel dull. But the magician is someone who knows that the mind can also affect the external world. When you are full of courage and optimism, you somehow make good things happen to you.”
Niall shook his head in wonderment. “And that’s magic?”
“According to the books I have consulted.”
Niall said thoughtfully: “This magician doesn’t seem to have been very lucky.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This man who sent Skorbo’s killers. First two of his servants get carried off by Skorbo. And when they’ve killed Skorbo they all get caught. That doesn’t sound very lucky, does it?”
The old man’s face remained inscrutable, an indication that he failed to grasp what Niall was talking about. “No doubt you are correct.”
Niall said thoughtfully: “So it sounds as if it’s my luck against his.”
This time the old man made no comment. After a long silence he said: “Do you wish me to continue to summarize the nature of magic?”