He moved to the old man's side. He saw then that those ancient dark eyes were open.

"Merlin . . .?" he whispered.

There came a faint hissing sound, a soft croak. Real- izing the source, he leaned nearer.

"Elixir ... in earthern rock ... on ledge ... in back,"

came the gravelly whisper.

He turned and sought (he ledge, the container.

"Do you know where it is?" he asked the yellow figure.

It neither stirred nor replied, but stood like a display piece. He turned away from it then and sought further.

After a time, he located it. It was more a niche than a ledge, blending in with the wall, cloaked with shadow. He ran his fingertips over the container's contours, raised it gently. Something liquid stirred within it. He wiped its lip on his sleeve after he had returned to the lighted area.

The wind whistled past the entranceway and he thought he felt the faint vibration of thunder.

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Sliding one hand beneath his shoulders, he raised the ancient form. Merlin's eyes still seemed unfocussed. He moistened Merlin's lips with the liquid. The old man licked them, and after several moments opened his mouth. He administered a sip, then another, and another ...

Merlin signalled for him to lower him, and he did. He glanced again at the yellow armor, but it had remained motionless the entire while. He looked back at the sorce- ror and saw that a new light had come into his eyes and be was studying him, smiling faintly.

"Feel better?"

Merlin nodded. A minute passed, and a touch of color appeared upon his cheeks. He elbowed himself into a sit- ting position and took the container into his hands. He raised it and drank deeply.

He sat still for several minutes after that His thin hands, which had appeared waxy in the flamelight, grew darker, fuller. His shoulders straightened. He placed the crock on the bed beside him and stretched his arms. His joints creaked the first time he did it, but not the second.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose slowly to his feet. He was a full head shorter than Launcelot

"It is done," he said, staring back into the shadows.

"Much has happened, of course..."

"Much has happened," Launcelot replied.

"You have lived through it all. Tell me, is the world a better place or is it worse than it was in those days?"

"Better in some ways, worse in others. It is different,"

"How is it better?"

"There are many ways of making life easier, and the sum total of human knowledge has increased vastly."-

"How has it worsened?"

"There are many more people in the world. Conse- quently, there are many more people suffering from pov- erty, disease, ignorance. The world itself has suffered great depredation, in the way of pollution and other assaults on the integrity of nature."

"Wars?"

"There is always someone fighting, somewhere."

"They need help."

"Maybe. Maybe not.**

Merlin turned and looked into his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"People haven't changed. They are as rational-and

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irrational-as they were in the old days. They are as moral and law-abiding-and not-as ever. Many new things have been learned, many new situations evolved, but I do not believe that the nature of man has altered significantly in the time you've slept. Nothing you do is going to change that. You may be able to alter a few features of the times, but would it really be proper to meddle? Everything is so interdependent today that even you would not be able to predict all the consequences of any actions you take. You might do more harm than good; and whatever you do, man's nature will remain the same."

"This isn't like you. Lance. You were never much given to philosophizing in the old days."

"I've had a long time to think about it."

"And I've had a long time to dream about it. War is your craft. Lance. Stay with that.*'

"I gave it up a long time ago."

'Then what are you now?"

"An appraiser."

Merlin turned away, took another drink. He seemed to radiate a fierce energy when he turned again.

"And your oath? To right wrongs, to punish the wicked ..,?*'

"The longer I lived the more'difficult it became to de- termine what was a wrong and who was wicked. Make it clear to me again and I may go back into business."

"Galahad would never have addressed me so."

"Galahad was young, naive, trusting. Speak not to me of my son."

"LauncelotI Launcelott" He placed a hand on his arm. "Why all this bitterness for an old friend who has done nothing for a thousand years?"

"I wished to make my position clear immediately. I feared you might contemplate some irreversible action which could alter the world balance of power fatally. I want you to know that I will not be party to it."

"Admit that you do not know what I might do, what I can do."

"Freely. That is why I fear you. What do you intend to do?"

"Nothing, at first I wish merely to look about me, to see for myself some of these changes of which you have spoken. Then I will consider which wrongs need righting,

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who needs punishment, and who to choose as my champi- ons. I will show you these things, and then you can go back into business, as you say."

Launcelot sighed.

"The burden of proof is on the moralist. Your judg- ment is no longer sufficient for me."

"Dear me," the other replied, "it is sad to have waited this long for an encounter of this sort, to find you have lost your faith in me. My powers are beginning to return already, Lance. Do you not feel magic in the air?"