Xax merely looked at him. Kortha was saying excitedly, running hands over metal sides and rounded knobs, over cables and rings, "But don't you see? If a thing can be made to give off the proper vibrations, it can affect matter. It can cause a change in the electronic structure of a substance, by speeding up or slowing down the rate of electronic revolution around the atom. "Remember the old legend about the beggar who had a queer machine strapped to his back? Everywhere he wandered he met harshness and ill treatment, until one night a woodchopper took him into his hut and fed and clothed him. The woodchopper kept him with him until the beggar was healthy again. As a reward, the beggar turned everything in the hut _into gold_!" "Pfah," muttered Xax. "A myth." "Myths are simply memories carried down from generation to generation. No, no, Xax. Where mankind has a myth, there is usually _some_ truth behind it, no matter how distorted by time and innumerable retellings. It is the smoke that hints of the fire. I just wonder if this machine is the one that began that particular myth." Kortha squatted and ran exploring fingers over wires and coils, making positive attachments and strengthening connections. He squinted up at the rings, motionless, rigid in the air, between the magnetizers. He grunted. "Must get its power from the air. Maybe it feeds on oxygen or hydrogen. Or argon. Hell, I'm just guessing at this point. See if it works first. Then analyze it." He looked around for an object; found a loose panel of carven wood on a perilously old table. Ripping off a section of the wood, he placed it before the machine. His fingers turned a knob. A beam of shivering green light pulsed from the coils and hung motionless to a yard outward. Kortha kicked the block of wood into the beam. "Zut!" he breathed softly. The wood changed: grew red and warm, shimmering a brilliant crimson, pulsating as though from inner fires. It became opalescent, almost fluid in scarlet brilliance. Slowly the red became green, and then yellow. The bar hardened, the liquidity of its structure tensing into solidity. Kortha stared with wide eyes at the bar, whispering, "Gold!" "Gold," echoed Xax, awed. * * * * * Kortha grinned broadly, hefting the thing in his palm. "Pure gold. Heavy, but somewhat soft, Xax. I was right. Blessed be the mythmaker, for he shall help us find truth!" "It can't be true," protested Xax, his faceted eyes glued to the amber bar in the giant's hand. "You don't turn one thing into another, not by just a--a color!" "Of course not by a color. That green light was something that got down to rock bottom, affecting the very nature of the wood. What's so odd about it? All matter is composed of electrons. Those electrons move in certain orbits within the atom. If it is possible to alter the vibratory rate of those electrons--why, then your substance itself is changed. It is something else. In this case, it's gold."