His mouth had a bad taste, and a headache was starting. His stomach roiled as though wishing to disgorge its contents. “I don’t feel well,” he said.

  “A little hangover,” Therion said quickly. “Ignore it; it will pass.”

  Hangover? Oh—a reaction from the drink. Instant high, rapid low. It figured!

  Now they were at the castle environs, mounting the winding pathway that led up the steep mountain upon which it perched. Progress was swift, for it was a very narrow mountain, but Brother Paul was tiring even more rapidly. Then he saw an inlet in the almost vertical cliff face, a kind of cave. And in this cave stood another cup. It was filled to overflowing with jewels: pearls, diamonds, and assorted other gems. Beautiful!

  Brother Paul started for it, but found himself abruptly too tired to get all the way there. He also saw, now, that the cup was within a kind of cage, with a combination lock. In the lock was a picture of three lemons in a row.

  “Oh—an ancient one-armed bandit,” he muttered. “Well, I don’t like to gamble.”

  “But look at the potential reward!” Therion exclaimed. “You could be rich—a multimillionaire in any currency you name!”

  “Wealth means nothing to me. Brothers and Sisters of the Order dedicate their lives to nonmaterial things, to simplicity, to doing good.”

  “But think of all the good you could do with that fortune!”

  “I just want to get into the castle and find the answer to my quest,” Brother Paul said. “If I can only get up the strength to complete the climb…”

  “Here, have a sniff of this,” Therion said, opening a tiny but ornate silver box.

  Brother Paul looked at it. The box was filled with a whitish powder. “What is it?”

  “A stimulant. Used for centuries to enable people to work harder without fatigue. Completely safe, non-addictive. Try it.” He shoved it under Brother Paul’s nose, and Brother Paul sniffed almost involuntarily.

  The effect was amazing. Suddenly he felt terrific: strong, healthy, clear-minded. “Wow! What is it?”

  “Cocaine.”

  “Cocaine! You lied to me! That’s one of the worst of addictive drugs!”

  Therion shook his head solemnly. “Not so. There is no physiological dependence. It is nature’s purest stimulant, without harmful aftereffects. Much better than alcohol. But if you disbelieve, simply return the sample.”

  “Return the sniff? How can I do that?”

  “It’s your Animation. You can do anything.”

  Brother Paul wondered. If he could do anything, why couldn’t he find his way out of this morass? Well, maybe he could, if he just willed it strongly enough. But he felt so good now, why change it? He did want to achieve the castle, after all, and he had already invested a lot of effort in that quest that would be wasted if he quit now. “Oh, let it stand.”

  His eyes returned to the cup of jewels. “But first, this detail.” He strode across to the cage and reached for the handle of the one-armed bandit. “What do I have to put into this machine, to play the game?”

  “A piddling price. Just one-seventh of your soul.”

  “Done!” Brother Paul said, laughing. And felt a strange wrenching that disconcerted him momentarily. If the price per cup were one-seventh, and there were seven cups in all, and he had already been through several… but he felt so good that he soon forgot it. He drew down powerfully on the handle.

  The symbols spun blurringly past in the window of the lock. Swords, wands, disks, and something indistinct—perhaps lemniscates? What had happened to the lemons? Then they came to rest: one cup—two cups—three cups!

  The cage door swung open. The cup tilted forward. Its riches spilled out over the floor of the cave. Jackpot!

  “I gambled and won!” Brother Paul exclaimed.

  Therion nodded. “It’s your Animation,” he repeated. “I merely show the way to your fulfillment.”

  There was something about that statement—oh, never mind! “Donate these jewels to the charities of the world,” Brother Paul said. “I must proceed.” He stepped carefully over the glittering gems in his path and left the cave.

  The ascent was easy again. In moments he reached the front portal. It was open, and he marched into the castle.

  “Like the palace of Sleeping Beauty,” Therion remarked.

  “Like a fairy tale, yes,” Brother Paul agreed.

  For some reason Therion found that gaspingly funny. “Show me what you laugh at, and I will show you what you are,” he said between gasps. But it was he, not Brother Paul, who was laughing. Odd man!

  “Strange,” Brother Paul said, “how I start an Animation sequence to find out what is causing Animations, and find myself diverted into this fantasy world, where I must slay a dragon and see my reflection as a skull and gamble one-seventh of my soul on a worldly treasure I don’t need. Why can’t I just penetrate to the root immediately?”

  “You could, if you knew how,” Therion said.

  “I acquired you as a guide! Why can’t you show me the way?”

  “I am showing you the way. In my fashion. But the impetus must be yours.”

  “I never sought to slay a dragon! Or gamble for riches! You and your damned drugs—”

  “Apt description, that.”

  And why was he swearing, since he was not a swearing man? There was a lot of wrongness here, intertwined with the intrigue. “What do I do now?” Brother Paul demanded irritably.

  “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.”

  “You said that before. But it doesn’t help. It’s from Rabelais, which I gather is prime source material for you. Here I am, restrained from doing what I wilt. What I wish, I mean. And you just tag along, spouting irrelevancies.”

  Therion turned to face him seriously. “However right you may be in your purpose, and in thinking that purpose important, you are wrong in forgetting the equal or greater importance of other things. The really important things are huge, silent, and inexorable.”

  “What things?”

  “Your will.”

  “My will is to unriddle this Animation effect! Yet here I wander in this forsaken castle, as far from it as ever! What is this place, anyway?”

  “Thelema.”

  “What?”

  “This is the Abbey of Thelema, the place for the discovery of your True Will.”

  “I already know my will! I told you—”

  “If you knew it, you would satisfy it.”

  Brother Paul paused. On one level, this was nonsense, but on another it seemed to make uncanny sense. “You’re saying I only think I know my will, and I am getting nowhere because I am pursuing a false will? An illusion?”

  Therion nodded. “Now you begin to perceive the problem. First you must truly understand your objective; only then can you achieve it.”

  “Well, I thought I understood it. But somehow I keep getting turned aside, as though I were a victim of Coriolis force.” He paused, charmed by the revelation. Coriolis force—a prime determinant of weather on any planet. A mass of air might try to move from a high pressure zone near the equator to a low pressure zone to the north or south, but the shape and rotation of the planet diverted it to the side, because the surface velocity of rotation was greater at the equator than at the polar latitudes. Well, it was a difficult concept for the layman to grasp, but essential for the meteorologist. It was as though nature herself were fouled up by the system, causing the endless repercussions, instabilities, and changes that constituted the weather. Was there such a thing as a mental Coriolis force, so that a given urge could not be consummated directly unless the full nature of the human condition were understood? Yet this was hardly a perfect analogy, for the human mind was not a planetary surface, and human thoughts were not mere breezes. The situation was more dynamic, with force being diverted at right angles to—

  “Precession!” he cried aloud.

  Therion glanced up benignly. “Yes?”

  “Precession. The factor that seems to change the direction of force applied to a gyroscope or a turning wheel. When properly exploited, as with a bicycle, it is a stabilizing influence, but when misunderstood, it stymies every effort to—”

  Therion shook his head. “Can you explain it to me more precisely?”

  “It is a technical term. It affects the Earth and all rotating things, and thus man’s technology and mythology. The precession of the equinox…” He took a breath. “Simply, there is a great deal of rotational inertia in a spinning object, and when you apply an external force to change its orientation, you must deal with that inertia. If you understand this, and know the precise vectors—”

  Therion smiled. “Thus your ignorance stops you here, because the inertial velocity of the mind is more complex than any casual survey can reveal. Know thyself—or as I prefer to put it, do what thou wilt.”

  “Yes,” Brother Paul agreed, at last appreciating the man’s meaning. A person could not do what he really wanted to do, unless he understood himself well enough to know what he wanted. What he really wanted, not what in his ignorance he thought he wanted. Many people were stuck on the ignorant route, questing tirelessly for wealth or power that brought them only unhappiness. Others quested for happiness, but defined it purely in material terms. Still others, trying to correct for that, insisted on defining it in purely nonmaterial terms, seeking chimeras. As perhaps Brother Paul had been doing, himself. “My ultimate will is more subtle and devious than I myself can appreciate consciously. Since these Animations are at least in part drawn from my unconscious, I suffer precession when I attempt to direct them by purely conscious thought. Thus I wind up veering away at right angles, battling the Dragon of Temptation, and God only knows what else!”

  Therion nodded again, looking like a somewhat seedy street philosopher. “I also know what else: it was your own conscience you battled.”

  “You know, you’re not a bad guide, at that,” Brother Paul said. “You have had a better notion of my true will than I. But as with leading a horse to water—”

  “The whole of the law,” Therion agreed.

  They had been meandering through the gaunt, empty castle. Now they entered an upper chamber—and spied a woman. She reclined in a huge cup, so he knew this had to be another vision of the Seven of Cups, that he had to deal with one way or another. He suspected that the original cup he had chosen, that of the castle, had been merely an entry point; he was required to taste the contents of all seven before he was through. Had he chosen the lady first, he would have found the skull, Temptation, and the castle interposing, though perhaps in a different order. With precession, there was no direct or easy route to an objective. But now this woman; she was a marvel of organic symmetry and cultural aesthetics, with hair like summer wheat…

  “Amaranth!” Brother Paul breathed.

  “Beg pardon?” Therion inquired.

  Of course this man would not know about the private name Brother Paul had for the Breaker-lady. But now he was sure; Amaranth had gotten into this Animation, and here she was, the actress in a very special role. The major characters in these scenes were played by living people, reciting their lines, as it were, or perhaps extemporizing according to general guidelines. “A private thought, irrelevant,” Brother Paul said, and knew he was lying. Since to him a lie was an abomination, he had to correct it immediately. “I believe I recognize this woman. She—”

  “The female exists but to serve the male,” Therion remarked.

  So the man wasn’t really interested in the identity of this woman. To him, women were interchangeable, covered by a general blanket of animosity. Well, Brother Paul was amenable to that game, in this case; from what he knew of Amaranth, she would quickly disabuse all comers of such notions.

  Brother Paul approached the lady. “In what way do you reflect my hidden will?” he asked her.

  She unfolded from the cup and stood before him, as lovely a creature as he could imagine. “I am Love.”

  Love. That was rather more than he had bargained on. “Sacred or profane?” he inquired somewhat warily. “I am here on a religious mission.”

  “He claims he loves God, not woman,” Therion put in.

  “I love God and woman!” Brother Paul snapped. “But my mission requires—”

  Amaranth stretched, accentuating her miraculous breasts, and Brother Paul recognized Temptation in another guise. He knew that Animation was not enhancing her appearance; it was every bit as enticing in life. A woman who was beautiful only in Animation—but of course physical appearance should not be the prime appeal.

  “You fought valiantly to achieve this castle,” Therion pointed out. “Do you now reject what it holds for you?”

  “Precession brings this woman; what I seek is elsewhere.”

  “How do you know?”

  Brother Paul considered that, uncertain. He had supposed he was overcoming Temptation—and a formidable Temptation it was!—but could it be that the physical side of Love was the essence of his search? It hardly seemed likely, but he could not be sure. There was a deep affinity between types of love, expressed on the highest plane as religion, and on the lowest as sex. It was often said that “God is Love.” Could he achieve one form without the other?

  He remembered the sour comments of the Hierophant. What was the nature of his belief? That the expression of physical love was inherently evil? The Hierophant’s views had resembled a parody of—

  “The Hierophant!” Brother Paul exclaimed, wheeling on Therion. “You!”

  “So you caught on,” Therion said smugly.

  “You purposely distorted the religious attitude of—”

  “Distorted? I would not say so,” Therion said. “I had a role to play, so I played it with complete candor. I gave the essence instead of mere casuistry. Modern religion hates sex and pleasure and tries to suppress them, because a man with a stiff cock will not seek a priest. The ancient religions were much more savvy; they knew that the alternate facet of divine love is physical love. It is a completely natural and necessary function.”

  “But not outside of marriage,” Brother Paul said, shaken by the way he had been guided even before he had chosen the guide.

  “Why not? What is marriage but a ceremony of society, establishing the proprietary rights of a particular male over a particular female? Does God care about the conventions of human culture? Who governs here, anyway—God or man?”

  “Surely God does!” Brother Paul said.

  “Then why didn’t God make man impotent prior to the nuptial ceremony, or responsive only to some other key stimulus, like smell? Animals have no such trouble.”

  “Man is not precisely an animal!” Brother Paul retorted. “Man has a conscience. He controls his urges.”

  “The tail wags the dog, then. Man controls the natural urges God gave him, instead of allowing their expression in the way God intended.”

  “No! Man’s conscience stems from God!”

  “And God is created in the image of man.” Telling thrust! Of course, man was in the image of God, but if he argued that case, Therion would simply point out that God was therefore a sexual creature, and unmarried. Now Brother Paul was uncertain where the sacrament of marriage fitted into this scheme, for it was true that animals did not marry. Animals were completely natural, yet innocent.

  Still, he had to believe that one of the things that distinguished man from animal was his morality, his higher consciousness. “I do not choose to argue with you about marriage,” Brother Paul said, “or to abuse this young woman. I only wish to ascertain the reality behind the image.”

  “Still, you suffer precession,” Therion said sadly. “You insist on carrying into this framework the private standards dictated by your Earthly existence, refusing to admit that they may be no longer applicable. You think you can penetrate the morass by plowing straight ahead. When will you realize that you cannot win unless you play the game by its rules? You have sampled only three cups.”

  Temptation, Victory, and Wealth. Apparently he did have to go through them all before gaining enlightenment. No shortcut! Yet did the presence of this woman, who had been accidentally trapped in the Animation, mean he had to use her sexually? Therion seemed to be arguing that case, which was odd, because Therion professed to hate women. Obviously he could not afford to be guided too closely by Therion’s words, which did not necessarily reflect Therion’s own will. This woman might be seductive, but he did not have to be seduced.

  “I would like to talk with you,” Brother Paul said to the lady. “What is your preference?”

  “I adore thee, I A O,” she replied.

  “My name is Brother Paul, of the Holy Order of Vision,” he said. That made a formal introduction within this Animation, in case that should help. “You—I believe we met before, in, er, real life. And you introduced the Brotherhood of Light Tarot deck, didn’t you? What shall I call you now?”

  She opened her robe. She was naked underneath, slim and pink-white and full-breasted. She was his physical ideal of woman, which was obviously what had first attracted him to her. He tried to seek the sublime understanding of God, but his flesh had other notions.

  “I adore thee, I A O,” she repeated.

  Brother Paul refused to go along. “I understood you to say, in real life, that you worshipped a snake-footed God, called Abra—” He was unable to recall the full name.

  “She refers to I A O, or Abraxas—literally, ‘the God to be adored.’ Therefore she adores him,” Therion clarified. “He has human form, with the head of a cock and legs of serpents, and he is the god of healing. It would seem she believes you are that god.”

  “I!” Brother Paul exclaimed, appalled. “A pagan deity?”

  “Abraxas was a most fashionable god, in the Roman Empire. She might see you as a modern incarnation. Perhaps if you showed her your feet—”

  Brother Paul uttered an extremely un-Orderlike syllable. But Therion was studying Amaranth’s torso. “She certainly is a healthy, well-fed specimen,” he remarked, as though appraising a thoroughbred horse. “Most peoples of most times have been malnourished; only in the past century has good nutrition spread. One seldom sees as fine a form as that, however, even today.”