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The he clutched the sky-blob again. The thoughts in his mind were clearer this time. "Rumpelstilsken, let the sun rise from the west and set in the east!" Some of the Satheri were at the windows to watch what happened this time. Their shouts were more frightened than before.
Hanson began pulling his hand out through the shell of the model, whimpering as his other hand clenched against the blob in his pocket. He had suddenly realized what horrors were possible to anyone who could use the orrery now. "Rumpelstilsken, I command you to let no hand other than mine enter and to respond to no other controls." He hoped it would offer enough protection.
At least he meant to die trying, if he failed. "Rumpelstilsken, I command the sun to set!" He seemed to sense a hesitation in his mind, and then the impression of jeweled gears turning. Outside the window, the light reddened, dimmed, and was gone, leaving the big room illuminated by only a few witch lights.
He had to improvise, but he got through a rough version of it, until he came to the end: "I who created you name you " What the deuce did he name it? "I name you Rumpelstilsken and order you to obey me when I call you by your name."
A minute later, the others were back, screaming out the news that the manual controls could not be moved could not even be touched. The orrery named Rumpelstilsken was obeying its orders fully, and the universe was obeying its symbol. Somehow, old Sather Karf brought order out of the frightened mob that had been the greatest Satheri in the world. "All right, Dave Hanson," he said calmly.
He clutched the blob of material tighter in his hand, mentally trying to shape an order that wouldn't backfire, as such orders seemed to in the childhood stories of magic he had learned. Finally his lips whispered the simplest order he could find. "Rumpelstilsken, repair yourself!" There was a whirring and scraping inside the mechanism, and Hanson let out a yell.
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