He Who Shapes by Roger Zelazny Read Free Book Online Page B

branches overhead, casting a uniform shade
    throughout the glen.                       '
    The effect was staggering. It seemed as if the entire world
    was shaken with a sob, then silent.
    Through the stillness he felt her presence. He had decided it
    would be best to lay the groundwork quickly, to set up a tan-
    gible headquarters, to prepare a field for operations. He could
    backtrack later, he could repair and amend the results of the
    trauma in the sessions yet to come; but this much, at least, was
    necessary for a beginning.
    With a start, he realized that the silence was not a
    withdrawal. Eileen had made herself immanent in the trees and
    the grass, the stones and the bushes; she was personalizing
    their forms, relating them to tactile sensations, sounds, tem-
    peratures, aromas.
    With a soft breeze, he stirred the branches of the trees. Just
    beyond the bounds of seeing he worked out the splashing
    sounds of a brook.
    There was a feeling of joy. He shared it.
    She was bearing it extremely well, so he decided to extend
    the scope of the exercise. He let his mind wander among the
    trees, experiencing a momentary doubling of vision, during
    which time he saw an enormous hand riding in an aluminum
    carriage toward a circle of white.
    He was beside the brook now and he was seeking her,
    carefully.
    He drifted with the water. He had not yet taken on a form.
    The splashes became a gurgling as he pushed the brook through
    shallow places and over rocks. At his insistence, the waters
    became more articulate.
    "Where are you?" asked the brook.
    Here! Here!
    Here!
    . . . and here! replied the trees, the bushes, the stones, the
    grass.
    "Choose one," said the brook, as it widened, rounded a mass
    of rock, then bent its way toward a slope, heading toward a
    blue pool.
    / cannot, was the answer from the wind.
    "You must." The brook widened and poured itself into the
    pool, swirled about the surface, then stilled itself and reflected
    branches and dark clouds. "Now!"
    Very -well, echoed the wood, in a moment.
    The mist rose above the lake and drifted to the bank of the
    pool.
    "Now," tinkled the mist.
    Here, then...
    She had chosen a small willow. It swayed in the wind; it
    trailed its branches in the water.
    "Eileen Shallot," he said, "regard the lake."
    The breezes shifted; the willow bent.
    It was not difficult for him to recall her face, her body. The
    tree spun as though rootless. Eileen stood in the midst of a quiet
    explosion of leaves; she stared, frightened, into the deep blue
    mirror of Render's mmd, the lake.
    She covered her face with her hands, but it could not stop the
    seeing.
    "Behold yourself," said Render.
    She lowered her hands and peered downwards. Then she
    turned in every direction, slowly; she studied herself. Finally:
    "I feel I am quite lovely," she said. "Do I feel so because you
    want me to, or is it true?"
    She looked all about as she spoke, seeking the Shaper.
    "It is true," said Render, from everywhere.
    "Thank you."
    There was a swirl of white and she was wearing a belted
    garment of damask. The light in the distance brightened almost
    imperceptibly. A faint touch of pink began at the base of the
    lowest cloudbank.
    "What is happening there?" she asked, facing that direction.
    "I am going to show you a sunrise," said Render, "and I shall
    probably botch it a bitbut then, it's my first professional
    sunrise under these circumstances."
    "Where are you?" she asked.
    "Everywhere," he replied.
    "Please take on a form so that I can see you."
    "All right."
    "Your natural form."
    He willed that he be beside her on the bank, and he was.
    Startled by a metallic flash, he looked downward. The world
    receded for an instant, then grew stable once again. He
    laughed, and the laugh froze as he thought of something.
    He was wearing the suit of armor which had stood beside
    their table in The Partridge and Scalpel on the night they met.
    She reached out and touched it.
    "The suit of armor by our