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The Tangle Box by Terry Brooks

“The future,” Kallendbor whispered, lost in thought. “Yes, it might be so.”

Whatever he had seen had certainly pleased him, Abernathy thought, barely interested in what that might be, too caught up in considering his own use of the crystal. His chest constricted with the emotions that gathered at the prospect that he might become a man again. If it could only be true!

“How many of these do you have?” Kallendbor demanded suddenly.

Horris Kew swallowed, not sure where this was leading. “As I said, thousands, my Lord.”

“Thousands. How much do they cost?”

“Nothing, my Lord. They are free.”

Kallendbor seemed to choke on something. “Have you given many out yet?”

“Yes, my Lord, many. It is our purpose in coming to the Greensward—to give these crystals to the people so that they may be amused by what they see in them when their daily work is done. Of course, for you, my Lord,” he added quickly, not missing an opportunity when he saw one, “they perhaps offer something more.”

“Yes, something more.” Kallendbor thought. “I have an idea. Allow me to distribute those crystals intended for the other Lords of the Greensward. I shall pass them about in the King’s name, of course. That would save you visiting each stronghold and leave you free to visit the common people.”

It was not a request. Horris Kew looked at Abernathy for help. Abernathy surmised what Kallendbor intended. He would not give the mind’s eye crystals to the other Lords for nothing; he would charge dearly. Probably he would tell them that these crystals, unlike those given for free to the working people, foretold the future. But Abernathy frankly didn’t care one way or the other. News would travel fast enough. Let Kallendbor deal with his neighbors as he chose.

Abernathy shrugged. “Of course, my Lord,” he replied. “Whatever you wish.”

Kallendbor stood up abruptly. “Your rooms are ready. Wash and rest until dinner. We will speak more of this then.” He turned from them, and it was apparent that he could barely restrain himself from peering once more at his crystal. “Oh, yes. Ask my servants if you require anything.”

He went out the door as if catapulted, and was gone.

Alone in his room, Abernathy bathed, dressed, drank another glass of the fine, cold ale, and settled back in his bed, stretched full-length across its covering. He took his crystal from where he kept it hidden, held it up to the light, and stared into it. He was practiced in its use by now, to the extent such practice was needed, and the light and images came at once. He watched himself appear in his old form, a young man with a bright, happy smile and an expectant look, rather handsome for his bookish appearance, rather appealing. He was playing with children and there was a woman watching, pretty and shy. Abernathy felt his breath catch in his throat. There had never been a woman in his life before, no wife, no lover, and yet here one was now. The future, perhaps? Was it possible he was seeing what would be?

He closed his hand over the crystal abruptly and focused everything on the idea. The future. Anything was possible, wasn’t it? What would he give if it were so? He knew the answer without asking. He stared up at the ceiling, at the cracks in the old mortarwork, at the faded paint that had once clearly detailed a pageant of some sort. Like his past, time had faded the event. So much of what once was had been lost in the passing of the years and in the changes wrought. He would not wish to recapture much, he told himself. Just the essence of who he was. Just the whole of who he had been.

He thought suddenly of Ben Holiday, who had been so anxious to leave his past behind. The King had few memories to sustain him, and the changes he had sought had been not of lifestyle but of life. It was not so with Abernathy, but there were parallels to be drawn. He wondered where Holiday was, what had become of him. There remained no trace of the King, no sign of him anywhere, though the search had been long and thorough and was continuing still. It was disturbing that he should vanish so utterly; it did not bode well for any of them if he was gone for good. Another King could bring changes that were not necessarily welcome. Another King would not possess Holiday’s strength of character and determination. For another King, the magic might not work.

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