e command was still there, however petty the man seemed now. Dave
started to phrase some protest, when he found his legs taking him
forward to stop in front of Sather Karf, like some clockwork man whose
lever has been pushed. He stood in front of the raised bench, noticing
that the spot had been chosen to highlight him in the sunset light from
the windows. He listened while the old man talked.

Sather Karf began without preamble, stating things in a dry voice as if
reading off a list of obvious facts.

"You were dead, Dave Hanson. Dead, buried, and scattered by time and
chance until even the place where you lay was forgotten. In your own
world, you were nothing. Now you are alive, through the effort of men
here whose work you could not even dream of. We have created you, Dave
Hanson. Remember that, and forget the ties to any other world, since
that world no longer holds you."

Dave nodded slowly. It was hard to swallow, but there were too many
things here that couldn't be in any world he had known. And his memory
of dying was the clearest memory he had. "All right," he admitted. "You
saved my life--or something. And I'll try to remember it. But if this
isn't my world, what world is it?"

"The only world, perhaps. It doesn't matter." The old man sighed, and
for a moment the eyes were shrouded in speculation, as if he were
following some strange by-ways of his own thoughts. Then he shrugged.
"It's a world and culture linked to the one you knew only by theories
that disagree with each other. And by vision--the vision of those who
are adept enough to see through the Ways to the branches of Duality.
Before me, there was nothing. But I've learned to open a path--a
difficult path for one in this world--and to draw from it, as you have
been drawn. Don't try to understand what is a mystery even to the
Satheri, Dave Hanson."

"A reasonably intelligent man should be able--" Dave began.

Ser Perth cut his words off with a sharp laugh. "Maybe a man. But who
said you were a man, Dave Hanson? Can't you even understand that? You're
only half human. The other half is mandrake--a plant that is related to
humanity through shapes and signs by magic. We make simulacra out of
mandrakes--like the manicurist in the barber shop. And sometimes we use
a mandrake root to capture the essence of a real man, in which case he's
a mandrake-man, like you. Human? No. But a very good imitation, I must
admit."

Dave turned from Ser Perth toward Nem