Houghton understood the words just fine, despite the fact that they were obvious and arrant nonsense.

Stop that! he told himself. It may sound crazy, all right, but do you have any better explanation, Ken?

"What's a 'spell of summoning'?" he heard himself asking.

"It's a spell which is supposed to be very carefully keyed to a specific entity or type of entity," Wencit replied. "The caster-me, in this case-sets up the qualities and . . . personality, for want of a better word, for the entity he hopes to summon. The spell is designed to find someone-or, sometimes, something-which matches what the wizard has specified."

"And-assuming for a moment that I believed any of this-it just yanks whoever you point it at to where you want him, is that it?"

The sharp edge of anger, honed, undoubtedly, by perfectly understandable fear and confusion, was unmistakable, and Wencit shook his head.

"As a matter of fact, no," he said calmly. "I adhere to the Strictures of Ottovar, and the Strictures are very clear on that point. No wizard may coerce any other being or entity into obeying his demands except in certain very carefully specified instances of self-defense, or in equally specific instances of the defense of others. I have absolutely no idea why my spell might have brought you here so abruptly. In fact, it shouldn't have brought you here at all, unless you were willing to come."

"Well in that case," Houghton said grimly, "I suggest you just send Jack and me back where we came from, since it's for damned sure that neither one of us volunteered for this little excursion of yours."