One of the usual traits of an immortal is the conviction that anything can be lived through, and that nothing is worse than death. When one has infinite time in which to find a way out of an unpleasant situation, one has little need to hurry or do anything rash, and the idea of risking eternity is not at all appealing.

And the mortals of Denner's Wreck simply did not have the technology to oppose Thaddeus. He would probably either ignore them completely, or recruit a few as servants and soldiers.

Geste was not willing to surrender, however. He did not care to see Thaddeus at the head of an army again. Too many people were likely to die. Even short-lifers’ lives were precious, after all.

And Geste knew enough of Thaddeus’ history to suspect that even if the other immortals surrendered, Thaddeus might still kill them all, just to be on the safe side.

“Even Shadowdark?” Bredon asked.

“I guess so, kid."

“His own father?"

“We don't think that would stop him."

Bredon mulled that over for a moment.

He had not followed all the details of the story-much of it, such as all the stuff about empires, was simply too alien-but he had caught the gist of it. Thaddeus wanted to bully everybody. He had tried running things twice before, and botched it both times. He was on this world, Bredon's world, because he had gone running to his father after the second disaster, and had tagged along when Shadowdark came here.

Shadowdark puzzled Bredon. How could he be so disinterested?

And why was he so hideous?

“Why does Shadowdark look like that?” he asked.

“Just lazy, I guess. He's got all the technology he needs to keep him alive, but he doesn't bother with anything to keep him looking good. And he's looked a little strange for a long time; after all, he's thousands of years old, and he never stopped growing."

“He still hasn't stopped?"

“He still hasn't stopped. He stands almost three meters tall now, but he needs machines to help him stand at all. Most of his body has broken down and been rebuilt or replaced. He's a mess."

“Is it worth living forever, like that?"

“I wouldn't know, kid, I'm just a glorified household gadget. All I know is silicon life; you're the carbon-based life, you tell me whether it's worth it. Shadowdark seems to think it is."

Bredon shuddered slightly.

He decided that he didn't want to think about Shadowdark or Thaddeus or any of the other Powers for awhile. The reference to itself as a household gadget, although incomprehensible to him in itself-as were the references to carbon and silicon-suggested another, more appealing topic. “Tell me about technology,” he said.

“Good grief, kid, that's a hell of a tall order. Where do you want me to start?"

“I don't know. I want to know all about the magic that Geste and the other Powers use, how they do all those things-floating in the air and turning things invisible and all the rest. And I want to know about the spirits they talk to, like you and that thing on the platform and the one Geste called a housekeeper at that place in the mountains."

“I guess I could teach you how to work the gadgets Geste has around the place. Do you care why they work, or do you just want to know how to use them?"

“I just want to know how to use them-at least for now."

“Good enough. I can do that with imprinting, I won't need to spend hours showing you pictures. Okay, kid, you're on. I'll teach you the whole routine, from tailored microbes to pocket universes, whatever we've got on hand. Step right this way."

The surrounding darkness vanished, and Bredon found himself once more in the vast white-ribbed chamber he had seen upon first arriving. The enchanted grove still stood nearby, and the vines still clung to the walls. He realized that he had never left the room, despite the changes in color and light, that most of the chamber had simply been hidden. All the spirits and miracles that had attended him had been right there-he had been bathed and fed and instructed all in this same spot.

Now everything except the walls, the vines, and the forest had vanished.

The room was totally silent when neither he nor Gamesmaster was speaking. Noticing the grove, Bredon wondered why the leaves on the trees did not rustle, then saw that it was because there was no wind to move them. That the little animals that lived in them made no noise at all was rather more surprising.

That was not particularly important, however. The forest was just a distraction from what Gamesmaster wanted to show him.

An oval door had appeared, two meters tall and a meter wide, in the nearest white wall. The nearby vines pulled aside and it irised open. Strange soft music spilled out.

Bredon was obviously expected to go through it, but he hesitated. Could he trust this familiar spirit?

“Come on, kid, it won't bite you,” Gamesmaster said. “Right this way, and I'll teach you the basics of running a modern household."

Bredon gathered his courage, stood, and strode across the room and through the door.

Chapter Thirteen

"…rowed to the place where he had first seen the lights in the water below, and there he waited, patiently, just as he had before.

"Darkness fell, and he looked down through the water, but as always he saw nothing until the time was right.

"The midwake darkness deepened with the passing of an hour, and then another hour, so that the middledark hour was almost upon him, when he looked down over the side of his boat again, and this time he saw them, tiny lights, red and green and gold, twinkling in the lake, not far below him at all.

"With the lights to guide him, he dove over the side of his boat and plunged down into the lake, as he had before. And, as before, when he was scarcely two meters into the water the top of his head hit something, crack! And as before he fainted, and would have thought he would drown had he not known what to expect.

"Of course, he did not drown; he awoke lying in a fine bed in a richly-appointed chamber, and knew that he was once again in the underwater palace of the Lady of the Lake.

"'Hello,’ he called. ‘Can you hear me?'

"'Yes, of course,’ said a voice, and he turned his head to see the Lady herself approaching. ‘I see it's you again,’ she said. ‘What is it this time?'

"'I need a new boat,’ the fisherman told her. ‘A bigger, finer one. The other fishermen say that a boat like mine is nothing special, nothing worthy of the Lady of the Lake, and that you could not have given it to me, for if you had I would have the biggest, finest boat that ever floated.'

"And the Lady's eyes grew wide, and she puffed up her chest, and she shouted at him in a fury, ‘You dare to come here demanding another new boat? You dare? When you wrecked your own boat against the invisible towers of my home, I took pity upon you, for I saw that I had unintentionally harmed you, and so I gave you a new boat, just like the one that was wrecked. But that boat was not good enough-you had lost time from your work, and had been injured, so you came back and I gave you a bigger, better boat. And you came back and told me that the boat was too big for your old nets, so I gave you new nets that can never break or snag. And you came back again, and again, and each time I gave you what you asked. But now you want an entirely new boat, and why? Merely so you can brag more easily!'

"Her eyes were red with fury, and her fingers sprouted long, curving claws as she said, ‘I have had enough! I wronged you, and I tried to atone, but you, in your greed, will not leave well enough alone. I am out of patience, and your greed has been your downfall!'

"And then the room vanished from about him, and he found himself being swept up into the sky atop a waterspout. The Lady of the Lake had vanished, but he could still hear her voice.