Chiu smiled. “It wasn’t a linear sort of test. If you had no ability at all, you would have scored fifty of one hundred. Right in the middle. A score of one hundred or a score of zero are virtually the same.”

  “And that means what, to me?” Gareth was getting tired of Chiu’s games.

  “It means, my Gareth, that you are very powerfully inclined to magic.” Her smile widened. “That’s why I recommend that we stop at the Wizards city of Plaoaturn, on the island of Pleakuynope. We’ll be going right by there anyway, and a couple more days won’t kill us. You need certain books to study.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled. “And a long robe and a tall pointy hat, I suppose.” He rubbed his smooth chin. “I could let my beard grow again, if you’d like.”

  Chiu’s eyes opened wide. “Are you insane?”

  Gareth chuckled. “Not before I came here.” Chiu was quiet for several long moments, and Gareth could see her biting her lip.

  Like a golden lotus flower opening in his mind, he very slowly saw and felt and tasted Chiu’s memories, as if she were holding them out for his consumption on a platter. In an instant he saw her wild childhood, innumerable fights with her parents, brother and sister, and her relationship with Maggie. Through her memories he recalled their hot sweaty bodies as they made love, and their wild joyous flight as they both fled Oseothan. Later he plumbed her devastation at Maggie’s death, and traced her plunge into despair. Finally, at the very end he saw his own arrival through her eyes, and the slow growth of love for him. Like a blazing ball of incandescence her final memories of her parents, and their reconciliation flamed with her pleasure. Without knowing quite how he did it, Gareth gently closed the petals of the opened lotus flower, and slowly gave it back to Chiu, not as a rejection, but for safekeeping, as one would guard a valued treasure. Reaching out for her memories her fingers touched his, in his mind/her mind. Gareth could suddenly hear Chiu’s innermost thoughts, as she heard his.

  Damn! One of them thought. This is… nice. I never knew.

  Chiu’s thoughts were amazed, and a little sad. Maggie and I never got this close. It took my mother to show me how.

  Why didn’t you ever want to share this way before? Gareth formed the mental words slowly, carefully, aware of Chiu’s current wide-open vulnerability.

  I didn’t know the trick of the lotus, and I was afraid of what you would think of my relationship with Maggie. Your world frowns on such relationships.

  Look in my mind, and tell me what you see.

  Chiu was silent for a moment, and then Gareth felt the heat of her embarrassment. But… you feel only a little jealousy, and not anger or revulsion.

  You might want to remember this, Chiu. Gareth’s thoughts were playful now. I have access to your memories. He knew she could feel him smile. I know where you are most sensitive. He reached out and stroked her, gently, with a single finger. Even though still fully dressed, she jumped.

  “Gareth!” She gasped, her face crimson, and then she gave him a slow smile. “Perhaps, my Gareth, we should have our roommate bunk elsewhere tonight.”

  He slipped his arm around her waist, fumbling with her shirt button with the other hand. “Why wait for tonight?”

  She playfully slapped his hand away. “Tonight! I need to go find Lyndra.”

  Gareth laughed. “Unless you’d like to invite Lyndra.”

  His laughter choked off when she replied, “not this time,” with a wicked grin on her face.

  Gareth was beginning to get nervous about the movement of the ship, when Chiu returned a scant five minutes later. “I found Lyndra in the galley, playing cards. She heard what I said when I asked her to bunk out, but she never really thought about it.” Chiu gave Gareth a lazy smile as she kicked off her own shoes and stretched out beside him. “Now, where were we?”

  “About here, I think.” Gareth replied, kissing her soundly while his right hand fumbled with the buttons to her shirt. The last button had come free when he was roughly thrown from the bed, cracking his head against the hull with a sharp burst of pain. He shook his head to clear the stars. “What the hell?” Overhead he could hear the wind shrieking insanely, and the Spray trembled. “Verdammt!” He muttered, pulling on his boots. “Why now, of all times?” He glanced up at Chiu who had somehow managed to stay in bed, one hand gripping the headboard while the other covered her laughter. Her flapping shirt gave him a glimpse of one perfectly formed breast. “Verdammt, verdammt, gottverdammt!” Gareth staggered for the door.

  A slap of icy water struck his face as he exited the companionway, threatening to flay off his skin. Gareth gasped as the Spray slid over the crest of a huge swell and plunged down the back. All he could do was to hang onto something as foaming sea water surged over the bow. The Spray struggled to shake off the water, and start the crawl up the face of the next wave. He had to creep up the short stairs to the quarterdeck on his hands and knees, only to discover a dazed Captain Evvos clinging to the taffrail, the empty ship’s wheel spinning madly. Of the helmsman there was no sign. Gareth made a grab for the wheel, and just about lost his fingers. Wheel finally under control, he turned to Evvos and shouted.

  “Evvos! What course?”

  The captain of the Spray blinked like he was coming out of a deep sleep. “Soueast by south!” He shouted in return, staggering to his feet and holding the rail. “Where is Davies, the helmsman?”

  Gareth clutched the wheel tightly as the ship broached another wave. “Gone! Washed overboard probably.” Evvos came up and took the other side of the heavy wheel, and together they managed to turn the reluctant ship back on course. Sometime later, as the wind reached a violent crescendo, the foremast yard snapped with the sound of a cannon shot, and the entire ship shuddered. After that the wind fell off to a mere gale, and the Spray staggered on, like a punch-drunk fighter.

  A crewman shook Gareth awake and he groaned, rolling off the hard galley bench where he’d been sleeping off and on… usually after a quick meal, for the past three days while the storm raged. “What?” he croaked, his voice hoarse and throat sore from continual exposure to salt laden elements.

  “Cap’n needs ye on deck, sir. There be something mighty odd we’re comin’ up on.”

  “That’s the story of this whole bloody world.” Gareth muttered under his breath, getting to his feet.

  “Pardon, sir?”

  Gareth shook his head. “Lead on.” The barefoot seaman scampered up on deck, and Gareth followed… at a slower pace.

  “There, sir!” The seaman shouted over the rush of the sea and wind and pointed. Gareth stood, gaping. Three cable lengths off their starboard bow the great humping back of a Kraken appeared to be strangling a whale. Gareth could see the great beast’s flukes thrashing the water to white foam as it struggled. “The dolphins seem te be pushin us over toward them.” Gareth felt the boat tremble as three dolphins bumped the port side, forcing the boat starboard.

  He sighed. “Do you know that long green case of mine, in the forward hold?” Gareth asked the seaman.

  “Yes, sir.” The seaman replied, eyes wide.

  “Get it, as fast as you can.”

  “Aye, sir.” The seaman turned and ran.

  Looking up at the helmsman, with Captain Evvos standing at his shoulder, Gareth cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Follow the lead of the dolphins!” He pointed toward the Kraken. “I’ll take care of THAT.” He was relieved that the wind carried Captain Evvos’s words away before they got to him, but the ship turned. The Kraken and the whale were a scant two cables away when the seaman returned with the case, and Gareth wasted no time prepping the big Barrett with a magazine of railgun rounds. During the slow weeks of his recovery he had discovered in the second plastic box a collapsible solar cell for charging the Barrett, and from what he could gather, the big long gun was now fully charged. Flipping open the bipod, he stretched out on the deck, selecting a three-shot burst on the weapon. The targeting system placed a red pipper, for the Predicted Impact Point, on the Kraken that turned gold after only a moment. Gareth noticed with pleasure that the targeting designator automatically followed the position of the target, despite the motion of the ship. He squeezed the trigger. The first two hypersonic cracks sounded normal, but the third exploded in his face, knocking him backward across the deck. In the distance he could see the Kraken slowly slide off the whale, most of its head gone thanks to the hypersonic rounds. The dolphins wasted no time pushing the body of the Kraken away from the injured whale.

  “Are you all right?” Chiu was kneeling by his side, dabbing at his face with a wet cloth… that came away bloody.

  Gareth blinked, touched his face and winced as he extracted a small piece of metal from his right cheek. Chiu dabbed some more, pulling out another piece of metal. Gareth gritted his teeth, and then reached for the fallen Barrett. The electronic display was dead, and the side of the receiver chamber was split open. Gareth sighed as he pulled himself to his feet. Leaning over the railing watching the whale, a drop or two of his blood hit the water, and suddenly the dolphins were below him, all turned on their sides to see the bleeding human. One of the dolphins came up to the side of the boat, a strand of dark green seaweed trailing from its mouth, and, for a startling moment, Gareth had the picture of the seaweed on his face. Leaning over the side of the boat, Gareth reached out and took the seaweed from the dolphin’s mouth, marveling at the feel of the smooth warm gray skin. When he placed the seaweed on his face he could have sworn the dolphin nodded, before it dove back into the depths.

  On his face the salty seaweed burned like fire, and Gareth held it there as long as he was able. When he removed it he heard Chiu gasp.

  “The cuts on your face, are all healed. They didn’t even leave a scar!” She reached up and picked away another piece of metal that was simply sitting on his skin. “What happened to your weapon?”

  He shrugged. “Catastrophic failure from seawater exposure, from rough treatment, or simply poor workmanship.” He picked up the gun with the idea of tossing it into the sea, thought better of it, and instead packed it away into its case, with the idea that he might someday find someone on this insane world to fix it. He smiled as he watched the dolphins cavort around the whale. At least he was able to do some good with it. He shut the case and handed it back to the seaman who had fetched him in the first place. “It’s no good now, but you might as well put it away.”

  The seaman was grinning like a madman. “Aye, sir.” Gareth shook his head.

  The Spray limped into the port of Plaoaturn three days later and Chiu, dragging Gareth with her, was the first off the boat. “We are going to the Magician’s Guild,” she said with some authority as she flowed into the form of a gray tabby cat, taking her place on his shoulder. Go down this street for three blocks, and turn right. Gareth rolled his eyes but followed her directions. As they walked down the quaint narrow streets, he was more than a little surprised at how many people had animals with them of one sort or another. One elegantly dressed woman in a long floral gown had a Great Dane padding soundlessly at her side, while another man had a thick snake, probably a python, Gareth guessed, wrapped around his waist. He could have sworn he saw a bright-eyed mouse peek out from a woman’s flowered hat. The scent of pies was heavy in the air, and flowers filled the window boxes on the second and third stories to overflowing. Soon they stood in front of a heavy wooden door, inlaid with arcane script and strangely shaped animals.

  This the place?

  Of course, it’s the place. Chiu replied primly. They stood that way for a moment. Well? Are you going to knock?

  Gareth chuckled, banging on the door with his fist, ignoring the ornate knocker. The door creaked open and a man stepped from the dim interior. “Welcome to Antiqua Societatis Magus. I am the Door Wizard. How may I help you?”

  Gareth’s eyes widened, and he began to laugh, laughing until tears ran down his face. Chiu sprang from his shoulder, flowing to her human form as she landed at his feet. She was glaring first at Gareth, and then at the man in the doorway. “How did you know?” she asked.

  Gareth made gasping sounds of mirth. “It would take too long to tell you.” He managed to get out. He looked up, trying and failing to contain his chuckle. The man glaring down at him stood two meters tall, and wore a heavy gray robe that fell to his feet, covering his hands. His gray hat was tall and pointy, although the tip seemed to flop over to the right, and his bushy white beard hung nearly to his waist. “Society of the Old Magicians? Really?” He was working hard not to burst into renewed laughter.

  “That is the Society of the Ancient Magicians.” The man’s voice was sepulchral. “Now… how may I help you?”

  Gareth cleared his throat. “The family of my familiar has tested me, and determined that I have some small magical ability. They recommended that I should, perhaps, acquire books here that would assist my education.” Gareth gave the surprised man a wide smile.

  The Door Wizard, in return, looked down his nose at Gareth. “I’ll tell you what.” He waved his hand in front of Gareth’s face. “I’ve this very moment created a magical barrier in front of me.” He glanced down at Chiu. “This test usually elicits a defense response from the person being tested. I will begin by attacking your familiar, and you…” He stopped speaking when the muzzle of the Colt touched his nose.

  “You will NOT EVEN THINK of attacking my familiar.” Gareth’s voice spoke eloquently of sudden death.

  The wizard swallowed. “Or what?”

  “I will decorate your entry hall with your skull and brains.” People on the street were stopping to stare at the terrified wizard.

  Chiu touched Gareth’s arm. “Don’t kill him, Gareth. Please?”

  The wizard had turned pale. “You didn’t feel a magical barrier?”

  Gareth growled. “No; was I supposed to?”

  The wizard made a dismissive gesture, and clapped his hands together. “Perhaps if you would just step inside.”

  The Colt hadn’t moved a hair. “No tricks?” Gareth asked.

  “No tricks.” The wizard guaranteed with a gulp that made his prominent Adams apple bob violently. Gareth’s Colt returned to its holster in a single smooth motion, and the tall man in the pointy hat breathed an obvious sigh of relief. He might not know the exact use of the Colt, but he recognized a weapon when he saw one, and took Gareth’s description of the results at face value. “Good. This way, if you please.” On the street the crowd slowly dissipated with murmurs of disappointment at the lack of bloodshed. “I think I need a drink,” the wizard muttered darkly.

  “That is the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Gareth replied, following the man in the door, Chiu once more on his shoulder.

  The dark paneled corridor had a musty smell, and the vaguest scent of sandalwood incense. The wizard took the first left turn into a small, plushly furnished office, and tossed his pointy hat into a high-backed chair. Pulling his robe over his head, it followed the hat. The stick-on beard followed the robe. Gareth blinked, and he could feel surprise radiating from Chiu. The young man, wearing what appeared to Gareth to be wool slacks and a blue twill shirt, scratched his chin, and gave Gareth a lopsided grin. “My name is Defoli Scoyfol,” he said, opening a large wooden cabinet. “What will you have?”

  Ignoring the question for the moment, a bemused Gareth replied. “What’s with the wizard outfit; the robe, beard and hat?”

  Defoli rolled his eyes. “Those have been passed down to us from ages past, so far back their very origin is lost in time. The hat, beard, and robe have become the symbol for our guild.” When Gareth frowned, the young wizard shrugged and nodded toward the open liquor cabinet.

  Gareth thought for a moment, wondering what, exactly, they had for liquor on this unenlightened world, and how did one go about asking for it. He smiled. “How about Scoticis cupam?” He asked, hoping he’d gotten the words right and didn’t ask for a cup of poison instead.

  “Ahhh,” Defoli muttered, picking up a bottle. “A man after my own heart. How would you like it?”

  “Two fingers, neat.” The young wizard poured, and handed Gareth the glass of golden liquor. “Thanks. My name is Gareth, by the way.” He raised his glass, sniffed and took a slow sip. He couldn’t suppress his smile. “A very nice single malt Scotch whiskey, if I do say so myself. You can taste the oak from the barrels.”

  Defoli’s eyebrows raised. “You know the secrets of making spirits?”

  Gareth scowled. “It’s no big deal, really.”

  Defoli looked into his own glass. “The making of spirits is one of the most highly guarded secrets in the world.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Gareth muttered, sipping. “So, tell me about magic.”

  Defoli smiled. “I’m merely the doorman this week. You said that you were tested and showed some magical ability. Do you remember your score?”

  Gareth tossed back the remainder of his drink. “Zero.” Chiu sniffed his empty glass, and wrinkled her nose.

  Defoli laughed. “That’s good. Nobody scores a zero or a hundred. What did you get, really?”

  Gareth gave him a flat look. “What is the very hardest thing a wizard can do?”

  Defoli shook his head, and gave Gareth a condescending smile. “Wizards have been trying to create living things for thousands of years. The best they can do is to reanimate dead corpses.”

  “Great.” Gareth muttered. “Night of the living dead.” He held out his hand, palm up.

  What are you doing? There was a hint of fear in Chiu’s thought.

  Restoring his faith.

  You can’t create life, Gareth. You can’t!

  Help me or stay out of my way, sweetheart.

  You’re going to get us both into trouble.

  Gareth shut his eyes and concentrated on the palm of his hand. Sitting placidly in his palm he pictured the small brown mouse he’d seen in the woman’s hat on their way to the guild. He built the image slowly in his mind, like you would store an image in a memory buffer. When the image of the mouse was as complete as he could possibly make it, he concentrated on imbuing it with a tiny spark of life. In a world filled with life he could feel it all around him. He reached outside, to a patch of grass and drew off some of its life, but not enough to kill, or even seriously harm it. Chiu was putting everything she had into sustaining his effort: it was the most difficult thing he’d ever done as he put it all together and…. In his palm something squeaked, while on his shoulder Chiu hissed. Gareth opened his eyes in time to see Defoli drain the last of the Scotch, without bothering to use a glass. The young wizard was the color of chalk.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26