Dominion by Fred Saberhagen (best motivational novels txt) 📕

   It’s showtime, folks, thought Simon. Vivian was now looking at him keenly, as if to make sure that he recognized his cue. As he could hardly fail to do.

   Simon drew a deep breath, and tried to will himself back toward an ordinariness of mind and of perception. It was not to be, not now. But still he felt that he was ready to perform, more than merely ready. His vision was very clear, his hands supremely steady.

   He got to his feet smiling, silently running through the last items on his mental pre-performance checklist. He noted that the toad-costume was no longer to be seen. Good, no immediate competition. Establishing the proper atmosphere for magic? In tonight’s special setting that wasn’t going to be a problem; quite the opposite, in fact. He was going to have to be careful to keep it light.

   The servants, presumably at someone’s signal, had already ceased activities, and most of them were out of sight. All eyes were on Simon as he stood up.

   “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, looking up and down the table. “Our charming hostess tells me that she’s expecting one more guest—” Vivian was nodding, smiling Tightly.  “—and as on many occasions of this kind, when one more guest arrives, the hostess is somewhat upset to find that the balance of male and female guests has been upset.” Simon was ready here, should Vivian show the slightest sign of social distress, for the quick switch: But this is not one such occasion. There was no distress signal from her, and Simon moved smoothly on: “So I’m going to find out first what sex our impending visitor is. Vivian hasn’t told me. Am I right?”

   She nodded encouragingly. “Right.”

   “So my intention now is to summon up one of the fay, the fairies of the old world, to help us find out some more about this potential visitor. Maybe even to help him—or her—to find the way to get here.”

   Vivian, enthralled, was nodding with great intentness. This wasn’t at all the way that Simon had planned to open, but once he stood up the stunt had just seemed to suggest itself. He could see, as in a flash of inspiration, how it was going to work. If the visitor then failed to arrive, Simon would have a way out; if he did arrive, so much the better. Marge was quick-witted, she’d pick up quickly on what he had in mind, and work along. “Would you all join hands, please?” Simon asked. “It’ll help the vibrations.”

   With merriment, and a minimum of delay, the folk at the table all brought themselves into a hand-joined circle. “Now I need just a little more room,” said Simon, backing away a few steps from the table. He was standing now, as he had planned, with his back only a few feet from the fireplace, to which another log had recently been added. The blaze was up moderately, and he could feel the warmth of it, welcome in the damp coolness of the castle’s interior night. He had another reason to be glad for having his back to the fire now; when he first stood up he’d started seeing faces, real faces, in the flames. He could do without that kind of a distraction just now.

   Simon’s audience would be seeing him backlighted now, but the firelight gave him a good look at their faces, and he noted with professional joy that they were receptive to whatever he was going to do. They watched him happily. They were already a little high on the wine, or whatever had been added to the wine. They were calmly certain that he was going to show them wonders. And indeed he was.

   The object that he meant soon to throw secretly into the fire was already concealed in Simon’s palm. Ten seconds, approximately, after he threw it in, the fire would flare up dramatically and in exotic colors. In that moment when everyone but Simon himself was looking at the fire, Marge would be able to slip through the dark hidden panel in the dim far wall of the great hall, and close the panel after her. She would have appeared in what looked like a doorless and windowless corner, inaccessible except by passing within a very few feet of the dinner table itself. Simon expected that the effect would be tremendous.

   But before he threw anything into the fire, he would puzzle the audience first with Margie’s voice, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

   He made wild passes with hands and arms, he rumbled his made-up words of magic, “Sprite of the woods and waters, princess of the summer night! I summon thee to questioning!”

   There was a quavery moan, from… somewhere. Oh, beautiful, Marge. Simon called out peremptorily: “Are you there? Answer me clearly, please!”

   “Simon… I’m here.” It was a very eerie voice, from very far away, from everywhere and nowhere. For a moment it even raised the hair on the back of Simon’s own neck.

   Vivian watched, calm but utterly intent. The rest of the people at the table marveled, more or less quietly.

   Simon called softly: “The guest that our hostess is expecting. Can you see him or her from where you are?”

   And the disembodied voice: “Yes, Simon. Yes.”

   “A man or a woman?”

   “A man.” Margie from her secret observation place had perhaps learned something; otherwise there would have been no need for her to be so positive.

   “Is he going to be able to join us here tonight?”

   “He will try.”

   Vivian did not take her eyes from Simon. The rest of the audience looked everywhere, under the table, up among the distant rafters, for the source of the voice. Simon heard someone mutter about ventriloquism.

   “Will he be here soon, do you think?”

   “Either he’ll be at the castle very soon… I think