Gaal the Conqueror (16 page)

John stared at her. He was feeling ill. "Why ever not?" he
asked.

"I didn't want you accusing me of taking more than my
share."

John made no reply. He could see a stale-looking roll of
bread, the long kind they sell in France, and an earthenware
pitcher containing water. There were no cups, plates, knives or
forks. He dragged himself wearily to the bread and broke it into
two halves, and gave one-half to Eleanor. It was very dry. Then
he picked up the pitcher and took it to Eleanor. "Take a few swigs," he said. "You won't be able to swallow that dry bread
if you don't."

"Think I didn't know that?" Eleanor asked scornfully.

Normally John would have replied in kind, but he was too
depressed to bother.

When Eleanor had finished drinking she said, "They're going to let us out for a bit later on. Shagah said so." John said
nothing but took the pitcher from her and drank. He deposited
it halfway between the two of them, sat down beside his bread,
but felt too nauseated to touch it.

They finished their water well before noon, and suffered
greatly from thirst later. John never felt like eating his bread.
This seemed to bother Eleanor, and at first she accused him of
playing the martyr. Eventually she began to eat his share. "Are
you sure? I mean really sure. Mebbe you'll feel different later."
The bread seemed to change her attitude a little, and she
watched him anxiously from time to time.

Later they were taken out for exercise by a strange little
gnome with a bunch of keys round his waist. He told them with
a malicious grin that they could go wherever they wanted. John
thought he would see how far he could go, but found to his
amazement that after he had gone thirty yards or so he would
find himself back beside the cage. So he began to walk away
from it again only to have the same result. The gnome watched
both of them, an evil grin on his wrinkled, bearded face. After
a few attempts, they gave up.

A second exercise period came just before nightfall, and as
they were locked inside again John, feeling a need for someone
to talk to, told Eleanor of his experiences during the previous
night.

"You must have been dreaming."

"I don't know. I thought so at first, but the last part was almost
too real. You sure you weren't in that bed singing?"

Eleanor laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps you were delirious. You haven't been eating. Are you sick? Your eye looks
awful-it's a real black eye and it's swollen shut. Can you open
it at all?"

John shook his head. "I don't feel good."

He looked away, scared that she would say it was his fault
again. He fingered his swollen right eye cautiously, something
he had been doing all along without thinking about it. He
hated himself for their quarrel and didn't want another one to
start. He lay down, closed his eyes, and was soon asleep. His
sleep was dream-haunted. He walked through forests of talking
trees, trees that mocked him. Eleanor had gone on ahead, and
he was trying in vain to catch up with her. The dreams grew
confused, full of witches and gnomes, earthquakes, deserts, sorcerers and dragons.

Shortly before dawn he woke, shivered a little and rose miserably to his feet. With his left eye he could just make out a dim
bundle at the far end of the cage that told him Eleanor was
sleeping. He turned to see the silhouette of the tops of the trees
against the stars and seeing it, his heart suddenly contracted.
Above the trees another silhouette was plainly visible, that of
the tower, rising as strong and powerful as ever above the tree
tops.

He took gulps of breath, gripped the bars of his cage with
passion, and felt a pounding in his heart. He knew this time
what it was he needed. He needed to get out of the cage and
climb the tower again. He had no idea what he would do once
he had climbed it, and suddenly did not care. He was so excited
he ignored his nausea. A trembling swept through his body. He
would bend the bars of the cage and get out! Every other
thought left his mind. Eleanor, his father, the journey through
the enchanted forest-all were forgotten. Only one thing mattered.

He ground his teeth as he struggled to pull the two of the
bars further apart. Then, sensing he was getting nowhere, he placed himself alongside the bars, braced one of his feet
against them and seizing one bar with both hands, used his
weight and all of his strength to push it to one side. Again and
again he struggled. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. He had no thought of giving up. With one more ounce
of strength he was sure the bar would give.

He stopped. Perspiration poured down his face and chest. He
was breathing so hard he thought he would suffocate. Then as
soon as he could do so, he yelled with all his strength, "Shagah-where are you! I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I will, nowhonest I will! I'll do anything you say. Just come back and give
me the tower again! Please! Please!"

The silence that followed was terrifying. Suddenly he knew
that someone had responded to his summons. Was it possible?
He strained his eyes to see and his ears to hear.

"What are you saying, John?"

Shock like a jolt of electricity shot through John. What had
he said? Had he really said he'd do whatever Shagah asked?
Did he say he'd trust the sorcerer? Did the tower have that
much control over him?

He glanced up. The shame that swept across his face was
hidden in the darkness. There was the silhouette of a tall man
standing erect and strong on the other side of the bars. Even
in the darkness John could see that his frame was tough and
rugged, his bare arms bulging with strength. The shame grew
until it was unbearable. He hung his head, wishing there were
a place for him to hide, a bed to crawl under. He turned his
back to the man and sat down, unable to speak.

"May I come in?" the man asked.

"The door's locked," John muttered.

"I can open it."

"Then why ask me if you can come in? I'm not stopping you!"
John said, thinking to himself, "Try bending the bars, mister!"
But as the minutes passed he began to feel ashamed not only
of his actions but of his rudeness. A longing for understanding
grew within him. At last he said, "Who are you?"

The silence between them continued to grow until at length
the stranger said, "You know who I am."

It was true. John had never met the man, but he knew, knew
at the first sound of his voice, knew with an absolute kind of
knowing.

The man continued, "So what were you doing just now?"

"You heard what I was yelling," John said quietly. He knew
his words were foolish, childish words. "I was-um-trying to
get out of the cage."

"Why don't you say it, John? It'll feel a lot better once you've
said it. Say the actual words."

Silence fell between them again. John's back was still turned
toward him. At length he said, "Please, Gaal, I wanted to see."

"You wanted to see what?"

"I wanted to see if the hair was-still hanging from the window."

"And if it was?"

John's voice was so low that you would never have heard
what he said. His actual words were, "I would have climbed up
the tower and-and gone in through the window."

"And then what?"

John shook his head miserably. "I don't know, Gaal. I just
don't know. I just wanted to do it again."

"Even though it got you into this mess the first time? And
again in those tortured dreams?"

John drew in his breath, then sighed heavily. "Gaal-it was
like-I mean I just couldn't stop myself-I . . ."

"It never occurred to you that the whole thing was crazy?"

"Well, yes it did." He paused, then with a rush of feeling said,
"I hate that tower. I hate it, hate it, hate itl"

"Yet you would still like to climb it."

John's face burned in the dimness. "Yes, Gaal."

"And one day you shall. You see, my father built it."

John turned and looked up at the man outside the cage,
staring in astonishment at him. Then he rose and faced him.
"He did? But it's an enchanted tower in an enchanted forest.
Shagah's there!"

"Yes. You let him in!"

"No, no! He was already there. He pulled us up."

Gaal sat down beside the cage, and John, without thinking
what he was doing, squatted down too. Daylight had begun to
creep silently across the sky. John could see that Gaal was wearing a light-colored tunic, belted at the waist. He was bearded,
and the eyes looked like kind eyes.

"I know that's what it seemed like," he said. "But it wasn't that
way at all. This part of the forest, as you say, is under a spell.
It hasn't always been that way. And the tower even now remains
a very good tower, able to do exactly what my father had in
mind when he built it. You just weren't supposed to stop and
stare at it on this assignment, let alone climb into it. Shagah was
hoping you would let him in, and you did so the moment you
decided to disobey orders and go near it."

John stared at the tower. "You mean he's not in there now?"

"No, he's not."

"Then where is he?"

"Trembling before his master at his failure to capture the
treasures! The tower was never designed to be a hotel for wizards."

The treasures! He had forgotten the treasures. But why had
Shagah not seized them? He turned to look into Gaal's eyes and
asked him the question in his mind.

"No one can seize the treasures. Even though he captured, you he had no power to take them from you. First you would
have had to trust him. Only if you would give him your trust
could he seize the treasures for himself. And if I remember
rightly, you told him last night that you did not trust him. I came
because I thought you might begin to do so."

John hung his head.

"Let me tell you something else about what happened," Gaal
said. "The moment you took a good look at the tower you
decided you would climb it!"

"That's not true, Gaal!"

"No? Face it, John. What happened was that you did not let
yourself see what was in your mind. You thought it-but you
told yourself, `I won't think about that now.' Yet deep down you
knew all along what you would do." He reached his hand
through the bars. "That's quite a black eye you've got there. Let
me see if I can help it."

Gently he touched John's right eye. "There!" he murmured
to himself. The touch exuded warmth and comfort. A pleasant
tingling sensation flooded the swollen tissues. Suddenly John
was seeing with two eyes. His hand shot up to feel his eye, only
to discover that the eye felt normal for the first time in nearly
two days.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Now-and for the second time-may I come in?"

"You mean into the cage?"

"Of course!"

John had not really been thinking before, and had not really
believed Gaal's claim to be able to overcome locked doors. So
now he replied, "How could you? I couldn't get the bars to
budge."

Gaal rose to his feet and, pushing the bars to one side as
easily as if they had been curtains, stepped between them and
into the cage. John stared at the gap between the twisted bars.
"How did you do that?"