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comic absurdity in someone exercising (if he had understood correctly), to
stay in good walking form . . . the way knights exercised with lance and
sword.
"The Old Stones have not a Romish look," he offered.
"They're not Roman," said Merlin. "I'm going to study them, find out what they
really are."
"Mayhap I can be of some assistance in this undertaking," Raedulf hinted.
The magician glanced at the younger man. "Think you might pick up some of my
magic, boy?"
"You might choose to reward me in that manner, sire. Or perhaps with more of
the history of Arthur the
King."
Merlin spat a word that was strange to Raedulf, but that sounded obscene
nonetheless. "I've shot all the
Arthurian bull I intend to," he snapped.
The remark had puzzling implications. But they made it clear the magician did
not want to tell more of the great king. "Then perhaps of your own history,
good magicker."
"My history you wouldn't believe. Or be a fool if you did. We magicians lead
strange lives."
Annoyed at the patronizing tone, Raedulf replied tartly, "You may try me,
sire."
"Okay, boy. How about this for a starter: I come from thirteen hundred years
in the future."
Raedulf nodded thoughtfully, although he would have guessed that, possessor of
the wisdom of the ancients, Merlin had come from the distant past. "Your time
must be one of inspired magicianship," he flattered.
Merlin grunted in disdain. "Mediocre. I was the greatest of the lot. Got
damned little credit for it, of course. A prophet without honor in my own
time," he muttered bitterly. "Not that I gave a damn. I was
never one of those security-blanket organization scientists who can't function
without coddling and praise.
And the lousy Swedes know where they can shove their stupid Nobel Prize, for
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all I care."
"You are highly honored here, good sire," placated Raedulf, wondering what the
old man was raving about.
"Oh, sure! But not understood," snapped Merlin. "A magician with some
impressive tricks, but not a brilliant physicist whose discoveries surpassed
those of Einstein! Those dolts called me
'simplistic'
!"
"Which dolts, good sire?" Raedulf inquired.
"My damned so-called colleagues! Those biddy-brained idiots who sat in
judgment on my work, those referees who insulted my discoveries and kept them
from being published!
"That's the way they buried my theory of subatomic structure, in which I
demonstrated that there is only one kind of particle, the neutron. All the
other kinds that have multiplied like rabbits in the minds of bought
scientists are merely reactions to neutron configurations of flows and
counterflows of energy.
"You want to know what the referee said about that? He said I chose to ignore
numerous phenomena that failed to fit my scheme. A damned lie! But those
party-lining journal jacklegs believed him.
"After that disaster, I didn't even try to publish my finding of the
equivalence of gravitation and nuclear binding force. What a laugh some idiot
would have had with that one! Everybody knows the two forces can't be the
same. Gravity's the weaker by too many orders of magnitude to make a
relationship thinkable. So nobody but a trouble-maker like me would see a
parallel between the neutron stars, in which gravity is so concentrated as to
be almost totally self-confining, and the atomic nucleus where binding force
is similarly concentrated. Oh, no, I wasn't about to announce that one! I was
enough of a joke or a fraud without that hanging over my reputation. Instead,
I carried on alone, and brought a consideration of time into the light thrown
by my earlier discoveries. And I learned how to time-travel."
He paused, slamming fist into palm.
"That was exactly what I needed. I was a man ahead of my own time, trying to
mingle with people far too stupid and backward to appreciate my work or
myself. The future was where I belonged, so . . ."
Merlin broke off his angry recital in midsentence, glowering at the path
ahead. "How much farther till we see the stones, boy?" he demanded.
"Around yon turning of the path."
"Good. I'm getting hungry. Keep an eye out for firewood."
"Very well, good sire." After a hesitation, Raedulf asked timidly, "But, sire,
if you sought the future, how is it that you journeyed into the past?"
Merlin snorted. He strode on in silence, and Raedulf concluded he had asked
about a matter that vexed the magician sorely. He was casting about for a
graceful change of subject when his companion began muttering, "Even I fell in
the intellectual trap. Even I."
He looked at the chronicler and spoke more audibly. "We believe what our
society believes, boy, whether we mean to or not. We're tricked, because there
are so damned many beliefs and they come at
us in so many shapes and disguises. You believe I'm a great magician, but in
my own time no intelligent young man would accept that. He would look for the
mirrors, or the sleight-of-hand. Or the scientific explanation. When I tell
you I come from the future, you accept that as powerful magic and ask no
explanations. But a young man of my era would say, 'Impossible!' Or he might
be sharp enough to ask, 'How does it work?' Both reactions would be based on
accepted assumptions of the times. They would be proper."
Raedulf nodded slowly. "Even within one time, that is true. The deeds of the
Romans oft were senseless to my greatfathers."
"Right!" approved Merlin. "Now, you see that any society's set of beliefs will
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