And therein lay the secret knowledge.
`For what good is power,' he thought, `which serves no purpose? Ah, my Love . . . to keep you safe and untroubled! What more purpose do I need?
`To serve: That is the key! For we are as we do, in as much as we serve, and that which we serve is that which defines us! And service means giving of oneself!'
The staff in his hands became strangely transparent. Only the markings on it could be seen clearly. Yet it was becoming heavy, and cold as ice. It was as beautiful as crystal, as insubstantial as a breath of air.
Paradoxically exhilarated and exhausted, he strained his efforts to the limit, though it felt that his very soul was being drained from his chest; and all about him became pale, and the knoll seemed to hang in the clear blue sky amidst the clouds.
The sun broke over the hills, and laughing like a titan, though stretched as thin and insubstantial as a wraith, he poured sun and heaven and earth into the fragile thing in his hands, which began ringing like crystal.
Belloc he could not see, but sensed his presence. A signal seemed to pass to him, and he focused on the wizard's presence. He began to hear Belloc's unspoken words.
"This is the true world of magic . . . a tenuous, perilous and paradoxical world of wonder and power and fragile beauty that is just beyond the normal range of our senses. Your eyes are now open. This place is now yours."