"Death," the proprietor said clearly, showing the stone.
It was a bright red ruby, multifaceted, set in a plain gold
ring. It was a full carat large for this quality.
Zane shook his head, experiencing a chill."I don't want that one!"
The man smiled, an obviously perfunctory and practiced
expression reserved for wavering marks. He was
well dressed, but somewhat sallow, in the manner of those
who remained in the shade too long."You misunderstand,
sir. This fine gem does not bring you death. It does the
opposite."
Zane was hardly reassured. "Then why call it...?"
"The Deathstone." Again that annoyingly patronizing
shaping of the face, as the proprietor eased the ignorant
concern of the balky customer."It merely advises the
wearer of the proximity of termination, by darkening. The
speed and intensity of the change notifies you of the potential
circumstance of your demise - in plenty of time for
you to avoid it."
"But isn't that paradox?" Zane had seen such stones
advertised, usually at prohibitive prices, but discounted
the claims as marketing hyperbole. "A prophecy isn't valid,
if..."
"No paradox," the proprietor said with professional
certainty. "Merely adequate warning. You could hardly
obtain a better service, sir. After all, what is more precious
than life?"
"That presumes a person's life is worth living," Zane
said sourly. He was a young man of no particular stature
or distinction of feature, with acne scars that neither medication
nor spot-spell had been able to eradicate entirely.His hair was
dishwater brown and somewhat unkempt,and his teeth were
unfashionably irregular. He was obviously a depressive
page 7
type. "So it darkens, and you change your course, and you don't die. You figure the warning saved you. But it could be a random turning of the stone. Color-spells are a dime a dozen.
No way to prove the prophecy was valid. On the other hand, if it fails to darken,and you die, how can you complain? You'll be dead!" He scratched distractedly at a scar. "If it's wrong, how do you get a refund?"
"You don't believe?" the proprietor asked, frowning
expertly. Apart from his complexion, he was a moderately
handsome man of early middle age whose hair was enchanted
to carry a permanent chestnut wave. "I run arespectable shop.
I assure you, all my spellstones are genuine."
"You don't believe?" the proprietor asked, frowning
expertly. Apart from his complexion, he was a moderately
handsome man of early middle age whose hair was en-
chanted to carry a permanent chestnut wave. "I run a
respectable shop. I assure you, all my spellstones are
genuine."
"According to the Apocalypse, Death rides a pale
horse," Zane said, warming to his melancholy. He evidently
had some education in this area. "I question whether
an inanimate object, a chunk of colored corundum, can
stay that dread horseman so simply. Given the uncertainties
of the situation, such a stone is of no practical
use to the owner. He can only test it by seeing it turn,
then refusing to change his course. If it is a valid prophecy,
he is doomed. If it is not, he has been cheated. It's
a no-win game. I have played enough of that type."
"I will provide you a demonstration," the proprietor
said, perceiving a morbid streak that could make this cus-
tomer vulnerable to an aggressive and properly slanted
sales pitch. "Skepticism is healthy, sir, and you are ob-
viously too intelligent to be deceived by defective mer-
chandise. The value of the stone can be proved."
Zane shrugged, affecting indifference. "A free dem-
onstration? Can it be worth more than I pay for it?"
The proprietor smiled more genuinely, knowing that
his fish, despite evasive maneuverings, was halfway
hooked. Truly uninterested persons did not linger to ar-
gue cases. He took the stone from the magically theft-
proofed glass display case and proffered it.
page 8
Zane smiled quirkily and accepted the ring, putting it
on the tip of his thumb. "Unless there's some immediate
and obvious threat for the stone to point out-"
Then he was silent, for already the ring was turning.
The bright red deepened to dark red, and then to opaque.
Zane's mind began to numb around the edges. Death-
he had a deep guilt there. He looked at his left arm, feeling
a spot of blood burning into the skin. He pictured the face
of his mother as she died. How could he ever exonerate
that memory?
"Death-within hours, suddenly!" the proprietor said,
aghast. "The stone is absolutely black! I've never seen it
turn so fast!"
Zane shook off his private specter. No, he could not
afford to believe in this! "If I am to die within hours, I'll
have no need of this stone."
"Buy you do need it, sir!" the proprietor insisted. "With
the Deathstone you can change your fate. Hold it and
decide on a new course, and if the color returns, you
know it's right. You can save your life! But you have to
have this fine magical ruby to guide you. To steer you
away from death. Otherwise you will surely perish before
the day is out. That warning is emphatic!"
Zane hesitated. The Deathstone was an impressive item
now. It had, as it were, not minced words. But he had
been thinking about death while holding the stone, and
that could have made the color turn. Emotion-indicator
spells were simple and cheap, hardly deserving the name
of magic. There could be many things like that to give
false readings. Still-
"How much?" he asked.
"How much is life worth?" the proprietor asked in
return, with a certain predatory gleam in his eyes.
"About two cents, if this stone is right," Zane said
grimly. Yet his heart was beating with nervous power.
"Two cents-per minute," the proprietor said, going into
page 9
the closing spiel. "But this phenomenal and beautiful
stone is available presently at a discount of fifty percent.
I will sell it to you for a mere one cent per minute, in-
cluding principal, interest, servicing, insurance-"
"How much per month?" Zane demanded, seeing him-
self getting reeled in.
The proprietor brought out a pocket calculator and
punched buttons dexterously. "Four hundred and thirty-
two dollars."
Zane stiffened. He had anticipated a high price, but
this was impossible. A family could buy a good house for
a similar figure! "How long?"
"Only fifteen years or less."
"Or less?"
"In case the gem should miscarry, the insurance will
pay off the balance owing, of course."
"Of course," Zane agreed with a wry quirk of his mouth.
A miscarriage meant death, which meant a bum enchant-
ment. They planned to collect their money regardless of
the effectiveness of the Deathstone in protecting its owner.
He performed a quick mental calculation and concluded
he was being charged a little over seventy-five thousand
in total. About two-thirds of that would be interest and
other peripherals; still, it was a lot of money. A great lot!
More, probably, than his life was worth. Literally.
He handed back the ruby. Its color returned rapidly
as the proprietor took it. In moments its special, deep
shade of red glowed beautifully in the lighting of the shop.
A ruby was indeed a lovely gemstone, even when it wasn't
magic.
"What else?" Zane asked. He was shaken, but still
wanted to find something that would help him.
"Love," the proprietor said immediately, bringing out
a cloudy blue sapphire mounted on another gold ring.
Zane looked at the stone. "Love, as in romance? A
woman? Marriage?"
page 10
"Or whatever." The proprietor's smile was not quite
as warm as it had been, perhaps because of the misstep
on the prior stone. He did not enjoy seeing fish slip the
hook. This gem was probably less expensive, meaning a
smaller profit. "This fine stone brightens at the prospect
of romance of any kind. Sapphire, as you know, is chem-
ically the same stone as ruby; both are corundum, but
because the colors of sapphire are not as rare as those of
ruby, the value is less. This is therefore a bargain. It will
tune in to your romance; all you have to do is follow its
signal until you score."
Zane remained skeptical. "You can't find romance by
zeroing in as if it's a target! There are social aspects,
complex nuances of compatibility-"
"The Lovestone takes account of all that, sir. It orients
on the right one, taking all factors into consideration. Left
to your own devices, you are very likely to make a mis-
take, and suffer an unfortunate liaison, perhaps one that
will become a grief to you. With this stone, that will never
happen."
"But there could be many excellent combinations,"
Zane protested. "Many right women. How can a mere
gem select among them?"
"Circumstances alter cases, sir. Some women are ideal
for any man, with qualities of beauty, talent, and loyalty
that make them highly desirable regardless of the varia-
tions in the males. But most of them are already married,
as these qualities are readily perceived by the boy next
door, lucky fellow. Others may be destined for some de-
valuing development, like a disfiguring illness or serious
problems among their relatives. The Lovestone knows;
it orients on the most suitable, most reliable, most avail-
able individual. It is unerring. Simply turn it to obtain the
brightest glow and follow where it leads. You will not be
disappointed." He held forth the blue sapphire. "One
demonstration trial, sir."
"I don't know. If it's like the last one-"
"This is romance! How can you lose?"
page 11
Zane sighed and took the stone. It was certainly pretty
and twice the size of the Deathstone, and its theoretical
power intrigued him strongly. A really good romance-
what more could a man ask for?
As the ring touched his hand, the stone brightened,
turning a lighter blue, becoming translucent. Again his
mind faded to memory. Love-it was a second leg of his
guilt. There had been a woman, nice enough, pretty
enough, and she had wanted to marry him. But she had
lacked the one thing he had to have. He had liked her,
perhaps loved her, and she had certainly loved him-too
much.
"The perfect romance-within the hour!" the propri-
etor exclaimed, seeming genuinely amazed. His voice
snapped Zane out of his reverie. "You are a remarkably
fortunate man, sir! I have never seen the Lovestone so
bright! So clearly directional!"
The perfect romance. He had, really, had that before.
How could the stone know his particular needs? He re-
turned it to the proprietor. "I can't afford it."
"You can't afford love within the hour?" the man af-
fected astonishment.
"Romance won't pay my rent."
The proprietor nodded with sudden understanding.
Something unscrupulous passed fleetingly through his
expression. "So it is finance you lack!"
Zane took a deep breath. "Yes. I suppose I've been
wasting my time here-and yours." He turned to go.
The proprietor grabbed his arm, in his eagerness for-
getting his savoir-faire. "Wait, sir! I do have a stone for
you!"
"How can I pay for it?" Zane demanded sourly.
"You can pay for it, sir!"
Zane shrugged him off. "You know why the Death-
stone turned black for me? Because I'll soon starve to death! I have no money. I don't know why I came in here; it was a
page 12
completely irrational act. I can't afford the least
of your magic gems. I apologize for deceiving you."
"On the contrary, sir! I have a Salestone set above my
door; it glowed when you entered. You will purchase
something here!" He snatched a stone from the display.
"This is the one you want."
"Don't you understand? I'm broke!"
"This is a Wealthstone!"
Zane paused. "A what?"
The proprietor held it out. "It brings money! Try it!"
"But-" Zane's protest was cut off by the thrust of the
stone into his hand. This one was not set into a ring. It
was an enormous star sapphire, well over a hundred car-
ats, but of very poor quality. The color varied from cloudy
gray to muddy brown, and there were concentric rings
crossing the material and several black inclusions or im-
perfections. But the star was impressive; its six rays
reached right around the polished hemisphere, and their
intersection floated just above the surface. Zane blinked,
but the effect remained; the star was not in, but above
the stone. There was magic here, certainly!
"Not pretty, I admit, but my stones aren't marketed
primarily for their appearance," the proprietor said. "They
are valued for their magic. This is as potent a spellstone
as the others, but of a different nature. This is the one
you want. It is virtually priceless."
"I keep trying to tell you! I can't-"
"Priceless, I said. You can not purchase this jewel for
money."
"Not if it generates wealth!" Zane agreed, intrigued.
"That's right, sir. It produces wealth-all you'll ever
need. Potentially thousands of dollars at a time."
"But this is paradox again! How can you afford to sell
such a stone? You should keep it for yourself!"
The proprietor frowned. "I confess the temptation. But
there would be a prohibitive penalty. If I were to use any of
page 13
these fine spellstones myself, none of the other stones
would work for me. Not reliably. Their enchantments
tend to cancel one another out. So I use very little of the
magic, apart from the Salestone, which actually facilitates
business. I earn my living on commissions, using no other
magic gems myself."
Zane considered. The man could be concealing the fact
that his stones were enchanted by black magic, helping
to damn the person who used them. Drug dealers often
did not use the drugs themselves, lest they be destroyed
by their own product, and black magic was more insidious
than drugs. Still, it was an answer. There were sellers,
and there were users. "Then, what price?"
"Note the clarity of the star," the proprietor said. "When
you invoke the magic, the star floats right off the stone
and does not return until the spell is complete. That way
you know exactly when it is operating."
This person was being evasive. "Assuming that it
works," Zane said.
"A demonstration!" the proprietor said, sensing a sale
that would hold. "Gaze on the Wealthstone and concen-
trate on money. That is all it takes to invoke it."
Zane held the stone and looked and concentrated. In
a moment the star floated right off the stone, its rays
dangling like legs, and cruised slowly through the air. It
was working!
Then Zane's awareness faded to a dismal memory-
the gaming table, compulsive gambling, the losses mount-
ing-he had been such a fool with money! No wonder he
was broke! If only it had stopped there...
The star dropped low, going toward Zane's foot. He
stepped back, but it followed as if pursuing him. "Watch
wherever it leads," the proprietor said.
"Suppose it leads me to someone else's wallet? To a
bank vault?"
"No, it only discovers legitimate, available wealth. Never anything illegal. That's part of the spell. There are laws about
page 14
enchantment, after all. The Federal Bureau of
Enchantment investigates complaints about abuse."
"Complaints about the practice of black magic?" Zane
asked alertly.
The proprietor affected shock. "Sir, I would not handle
black magic! All my spells are genuine white magic."
"Black magic knows no law except its own," Zane
muttered.
"White magic!" the proprietor insisted. "My wares are
certified genuine white."
But such certificates, Zane knew, were only as good
as the person who made them. White magic was always
honest, for it stemmed from God, but black magic often
masqueraded as white. Naturally Satan, the Father of
Lies, sought to deceive people about his wares. It was
hard for an amateur to distinguish reliably between mag-
ics. Of course, he could have this stone separately ap-
praised, and the appraisal would include a determination
of its magical status-but that would be expensive, and
he would have to buy it first. If the verdict turned out
negative, he would still be stuck.
The star hovered at Zane's shoe. "Lift your foot, sir,"
the proprietor suggested. Zane raised his foot, and the
star slipped under like a scurrying insect.
Surprised, Zane angled his foot so he could see the
worn sole. There was a penny stuck to it. The star had
settled on this, clasping it.
Zane pried the penny off. Immediately the star re-
turned to the big sapphire.
The spell had worked. The star had led him to money
no one had known about. Not a lot of it, but of course
there would not be much loose change in a shop like this.
It was the principle that counted, not the particular amount.
The horizons opened out before him. A Wealthstone-
what would that do for his situation? Money coming in,
abating his debts, making him comfortable, and maybe more
than comfortable. It could save him from starvation and bring
page 15
romance, for that was easy for a rich man to come by.
To be free at last of the burden of poverty!
"How much?" he asked, afraid of the answer. "I know
the price isn't money."
The proprietor smiled, at last assured of his sale. "No,
not money, of course. Something of equivalent value."
Zane had a suspicion he wouldn't like this. But he did
want the Wealthstone. The prospects were dazzling! He
hardly cared that it might be an illicit black-magic item.
Who else would know? "What equivalent value?"
"Romance."
"What?"
The man licked his lips, showing an unprofessional
nervousness. 'The Lovestone showed you have romance
commencing within the hour."
"But I'm not buying the Lovestone. I won't be zeroing
in on that romance."
"But someone else could."
Zane looked at him tolerantly, recognizing the man's
lust for an ideal woman. "You own the stone. You could
do it. You don't need anything from me."
"I do need you," the proprietor explained, speaking
rapidly. "I told you I don't use the stones myself. It would
ruin my business if I did. But even if I did-in my own
near future there is no romance. I am well established in
my profession and I have a long life ahead, but my social
life is strictly indifferent. I would give a great deal to have
a meaningful relationship with a good woman. One who
was not a gold digger or desperate. One I could trust. A
woman such as the one you are fated to encounter-were
fated, had you purchased the Lovestone and used it prop-
erly."
"You claim you have not used the gems yourself?"
Zane asked skeptically. "You seem to know a lot about
your own future."
"There are other avenues of information besides my gems,"
page 16