# Blue Magic/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X
THE FAR HILL
THERE were many long, idle hours when Fen lay in the deck-chair looking out across the Mediterranean and living over and over again all the wonderful days when Siddereticus had been with him. He had not forgotten the smallest incident in any one of the D jinn's visits—they were precious things that nothing, no one, could take away from him. Somehow their parting at Venice did not seem final. Fen felt none of the despair which had filled him when the yacht left the Nile—and Siddereticus—behind. He was confident that he would see him again this time; that whatever his magic way of travel was, it would bring him again, ​somehow. This confidence was so strong that it wrapped him in as comforting a security as though Siddereticus' arms were around him, holding him, keeping him sheltered and unafraid.
Fen smiled dreamily, gazing half-unseeing at the far blue coast-line. Every day that horizon changed. At Venice it had been low and widespread, with great stretches of marsh and sandy flats, over which tiny iridescent waves tiptoed endlessly. But all this had vanished; the coast was high now, and ragged, with cliffs dropping sheer into the sea, and the greater shadows of dim blue peaks rising behind.
Since he had known Siddereticus and seen Venice, Fen found it easier to imagine almost anything. So that now, though Sally, who was re-stringing a broken chain of beads near by, certainly saw him lying there in his chair, he was really ​climbing one of those distant hills. Siddereticus, of course, was with him, and they were hand in hand. Curiously enough, the long, soft grass which brushed their feet with cool dew as they walked was not green, but blue—just the trembling blue of those far hills of the coast; and the ethereal summit toward which they climbed was like an amethyst. Perhaps it was an amethyst—a great single jewel, clear as water, and as fragrant as violets. Strange flowers grew on the mountain-side—pale, translucent flowers, whose centers glowed like the heart of a fire-opal. In the deep, pearly cup of each lay a little pool of dew which tasted like the most wonderful honey, but it was really melted starlight. They picked some of the flowers and made wreaths of them, and they ran and laughed. For Fen could run very fast—even up the mountain—even faster than Siddereticus. Their feet ​hardly touched the blue grass, and the transparent flowers sprang up again where they had passed.
Over the clear, amethyst rocks they climbed to the utmost summit. There they sat down, and a great wind out of the emptiness blew in their faces and sang in their ears. Below, a faint, moving mist hid the world; but Siddereticus stretched out his hand, and the great wind blew the mist aside. Through it shot up wide, golden rays of light, and little by little they could see—infinitely far below, but quite clear—cities and seas and rivers and forests. As they watched, the light faded, the golden rays spread and swam in a glorious afterglow, and twilight began to gather, green and penetrating. Stars came one by one out of hiding, like timid fire-flies. All down the darkly purple side of the mountain mysterious lights began to glow and to clothe the whole cliff with ​a luminous carpet. It was the star-dew of the flowers beginning to shine in the dusk. The air was filled then with a tremulous music that was hardly music at all, it was so faint and threadlike—the silver twinkling of the stars.
Fen sat with his head against Siddereticus's knee, and he would have sat there always; but Siddereticus rose, and he was very tall on the mountain-top. The blue robe he wore shimmered against space, and his eyes glowed like the opal dew of the hill-flowers. He gazed at Fen very gravely and kissed him. Then he said:
"I must leave you, my Fen," and, turning, looked down the mountain.
And Fen looked, too. The great amethyst cliffs were jagged and cruel now, and the star-shine of the dew flickered and paled. And Fen knew then that he would not be able to run down the ​mountain as he had run up—that he would not even be able to walk down—alone—so far, so far, to the world. He caught desperately at Siddereticus's robe; but it melted out of his hand, and he was left in utter darkness—alone.
There was a sort of crash, and, bewildered, he found Sally's arms around him. She was holding him rather tight, and her face was quite red.
"Fen! What is it! What is the matter!" she was gasping. The beads she had been stringing were rolling about the deck.
"I don't know," said Fen; "nothing. What did I do? You look awfully queer."
"You looked awfully queer!" said Sally. "Goodness, you frightened me, Fen! You'd been asleep for ever so long, when all of a sudden you cried out, "Oh, if you leave me here—alone—I—shall die!' and ​you nearly stood right up. I thought you were going to."
"I'm sorry I frightened you" said Fen. "I was dreaming, I think. Sally! Your eyes are all wet!"
They're not!" replied Sally, hotly. "Here, lean back, now; is that pillow right? Gracious! Look at all my beads—all over the deck!"
But Fen was looking out to sea. Far-removed and tranquil lay the blue hills of the coast—unchanged, unchanging. Only the cobweb veil of distance lay between Fen and those mountainsides where the gleaming flowers were now closed, each holding in its heart an opalescent drop of starlight.
He looked away again. Sally was gathering the scattered beads, and her cheeks were still flushed.
"I'm awfully sorry I bothered you so, ​Sally" said Fen. "I wish I could help you pick them up"
And, to his infinite surprise, Sally jumped to her feet and kissed his cheek suddenly.