Off to Be the Wizard - 2 - Spell or High Water

by Scott Meyer

  “Luckily, the arrow didn’t penetrate very far into his abdomen. I’m going to have to do surgery, but he should pull through just fine.”

  Brit asked, “Is he in pain?”

  “No,” Louiza said. “I froze him in time. He’s not even aware that anything’s happening.”

  “And you can perform surgery on him that way?” Phillip asked.

  “Close. I can’t do it with time stopped. With time frozen, he’s essentially a statue, but I can slow time to a crawl for him while I do the surgery. I’ll have the whole thing done before he has time to flinch.”

  Brit asked, “And he won’t feel any pain?”

  “Oh, he’ll feel a tremendous amount of pain, but only for half a second, from his point of view.”

  Brit said, “I don’t want him to feel any pain.”

  Louiza said, “He was in pain when you brought him in. He’ll be in pain after the surgery, no matter what I do. We could put him under general anesthetic, I’d have to train someone to monitor his vitals and make sure he doesn’t die. We’d have to intubate him. He’d take a long time to wake up, and he’d be groggy and disoriented when he did. Or, we can do it my way, and get the same result, only I can have it done safely all by myself, and we’ll be done in a half hour.”

  Phillip said, “You make a convincing argument.”

  “Also,” Louiza continued, “the slow-motion facial reaction to the surgery is usually hilarious.”

  They left Nik in Louiza’s capable hands. She promised to repair the damage, keep him comfortable after the procedure, and record his reactions for them to enjoy later, when they were in the mood.

  They walked to the summit. They weren’t concerned about a new attack because the killer or killers seemed to need time to regroup after each failed attempt on Brit’s life. Besides, they wanted time to talk.

  Gwen asked, “How many arrows was it this time?”

  Brit said, “I didn’t take the time to count, but at least ten.”

  Martin said, “If one arrow doesn’t do it, maybe ten will. I mean, whoever’s doing this, they’re either stubborn or stupid, right? It’s like ‘one statue didn’t do it. Let’s try a different statue. No? Maybe an arrow? No? How about a bunch of arrows?’ What will it be next time, a hundred? Poor Nik getting hit is bad enough, but there could be serious collateral damage if this keeps up. We have to figure out who’s doing this.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Phillip said. “That hadn’t occurred to the rest of us.”

  “Well then, let’s hear some ideas,” Martin said. “We need some suspects.”

  Phillip asked, “Well, what are your ideas, Martin? Or does realizing that we need an idea count as your idea?”

  Martin knew Phillip was on edge, so he didn’t return the snotty tone when he replied, “I don’t know the possible suspects nearly as well as Brit and Gwen, but I’ll say again that we need to look at who has the most to gain from Brit being out of the picture.”

  Gwen put her hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Martin, we’ve been through this. Nobody has anything to gain. Anybody who has enough knowledge of magic to make the attempt will know that they can’t possibly succeed.”

  Martin shifted to face Gwen, and in doing so, pulled his shoulder out from under her hand. “Then there has to be something we’re missing,” he said. “Brit, think about it. Let’s forget motive for a minute. Has anybody been acting weird around you lately?”

  Brit said, “No, but they wouldn’t, would they? If they were trying to kill me, they’d make a point of not tipping their hand.”

  Martin said, “What about those two dandies, Fauntleroy and Fancy Pants? You know, the guys in the tuxedos. They were pretty rude to you yesterday.”

  Brit said, “No, as I remember it, they were rude to you.”

  “Okay, you’re right. But they were rude near you; that’s a start.”

  Gwen said, “Martin, your problem is that you’re trying to figure this out with logic. You can’t. It’s illogical. They’re trying to kill someone who can’t be killed. You can’t make sense of something that’s senseless.”

  Martin glowered, and said, “Everything’s senseless until someone makes sense of it. Life doesn’t explain itself.”

  “Be that as it may,” Phillip said, “we do have to stop these attacks. Not just because of collateral damage, but for Brit. I don’t think her fate is tied to Brit the Elder’s. I’m absolutely sure that she can be killed.”

  Brit the Younger took Phillip by the arm, and said, “Isn’t he sweet?”

  Gwen smiled, and glanced at Martin, but he wasn’t looking at her.

  They arrived late at the summit and attempted to enter quietly during the morning session. Their attempt was foiled by Brit the Elder, who was making some announcements as they entered. She smoothly, as if waiting for her cue, announced, “Both members of the Medieval England delegation and one member of the Atlantis delegation have arrived. As I informed you all this morning as the day’s deliberations commenced, there was another attempt on my life, which, of course, failed, but did result in the injury of a servant, who will make a full recovery.”

  Instead of slinking unnoticed into their seats as they had planned, they slunk into their seats with everyone in the room watching them.

  The morning’s program involved discussion of various methods of testing whether a person who found the file was well versed enough in its use to be allowed to remain. A man of Indian descent who identified himself as Vikram explained his group’s method, which involved making a new recruit publicly perform with a deadly cobra. If the recruit understood the uses of the file well enough to make himself impervious to the cobra’s venom, then he had enough mastery to remain. Martin looked to his left and noticed that one member of the delegation of traveling faith healers from the 1940s was furiously taking notes.

  After a couple of hours it was time for a break, and the four of them just naturally congregated together to continue discussing the problem.

  Brit told the other three, “Look, I think we all agree that we have to put an end to this, and I think we all agree that we don’t really have any good suspects. What if instead of hunting them down, we trap them instead? That way they identify themselves.”

  Gwen, Phillip, and Martin agreed that it sounded like a good idea, so she continued.

  “We’ve been looking at the fact that all of these delegates are here doing magic as if it’s complicating things, but I was looking at them and I realized that the only reason they can all do magic here is that we’ve got copies of their interfaces and shell programs running on a local machine in this time, and all of the users are registered with the various programs. I figure I can write another program that will monitor all of those, and the Atlantis Interface. Next time someone tries to kill me, we’ll be able to see exactly who did it.”

  Martin said, “That sounds like a good idea.”

  A voice that sounded exactly like Brit’s said, “I agree. It does sound like a good idea.”

  They all turned to see Brit the Elder standing behind them. Martin asked, “Will it work?” Phillip didn’t ask because he wasn’t convinced her answer was trustworthy. Brit the Younger and Gwen didn’t ask because they knew not to bother.

  Brit the Elder said, “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

  Martin said, “That didn’t really answer the question.”

  Brit the Elder replied, “It tells you all you need to know though, doesn’t it?”

  Martin scowled and said, “Now you’re just being evasive.”

  Brit the Younger said, “Maddening, isn’t it?”

  Brit the Elder held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want to upset anybody. I just wanted to come over and touch base with everyone. I know the last day or so has been . . . eventful.” She looked straight at Phillip as she said this, and smiled a knowing smile.
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  Phillip said, “We’re fine.”

  Brit the Elder said, “I’m sure you are.” Her smile got wider, and more knowing. Phillip smirked, in spite of himself. Brit the Elder nodded, now beaming. Phillip blushed a bit, then chuckled. Brit the Elder laughed as well. They both looked at the ground, laughing softly, and peeking up at each other and blushing.

  Phillip glanced to his side, and saw that Brit the Younger was also turning red, but she didn’t look embarrassed. She gritted her teeth, turned silently, and walked away at high speed. Phillip exhaled sharply, shot Brit the Elder an irritated look, and followed the Younger.

  Gwen said, “That wasn’t very nice, Brit.”

  Brit the Elder said, “No, it wasn’t, but eventually, I was able to forgive myself.”

  Gwen watched Phillip’s back as he disappeared through the crowd and down the hall. She leaned toward Martin and said, “You’d think a love triangle would be less complicated if it only had two people in it.”

  Gwen heard no answer, so she turned, and only then saw that Martin had walked away. Judging by his distance, he clearly had left immediately after Phillip.

  Brit the Elder said, “When it comes to romance, two people are more than complicated enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Brit the Younger reached the door to the outside. Phillip was right behind her, calling for her to slow down. They emerged into the open air at the top of the gleaming white staircase that led to the meeting hall. Brit stopped walking and started swiping at the air with her finger.

  Phillip ran up behind her panting and said, “Brit, please, we need to talk about this.”

  Brit scowled at Phillip, but placed a hand on his shoulder and with the other hand, poked at the interface only she could see. An instant later they were standing on a beach of one of the uninhabited islands near Atlantis.

  Phillip spun around and asked, “Where are we?”

  “I took us somewhere we could talk in private,” Brit spat. “I certainly wasn’t going to take you back to my place. You’ve been there enough.”

  Phillip saw Atlantis shimmering in the distance. They were miles away. He said, “Brit?” Even to himself he sounded miserable.

  “You slept with her!” Brit shouted.

  “No! I never!” Phillip shouted back. Brit stared at him for a moment, then he said, “I mean, well, uh, I don’t, I don’t think I did.”

  She continued to smolder and stare. He continued to stutter and stammer, “Uh, ugh, okay, I, I guess, depending on how you look at it, I guess I kinda did, but Brit, that was a long, long time ago!”

  Through gritted teeth, Brit the Younger asked, “When?”

  Phillip said, “Brit, you know . . .”

  “When?” Brit interrupted. “When did you sleep with her? You say it was a long time ago. When was it, Phillip?”

  “Last night.”

  Brit turned and stormed off down the beach. Phillip followed. “From our point of view! From hers it was decades ago! Over a century!”

  Brit kept walking, but she did start talking. “Oh, so now we are the same person!”

  “What?”

  “Up until now, when you were trying to butter me up, you were sure that she wasn’t really me, but now, when I’m angry, you decide she is!”

  “Look,” Phillip shouted, “you’re the one insisting that when I slept with you I also slept with her! I very clearly stated that I didn’t sleep with her!”

  “So I suppose I should think better of you for having denied it at first!”

  “I still deny it! I only entertained the idea that you’re the same person to show you how silly . . .” Phillip trailed off, but he knew it was a word too late. He took a second to rephrase his thoughts. Brit passed the time by attempting to kill him by staring him to death. Phillip, his voice much quieter and much sadder, said, “Brit, I’m just hoping I can get you to look at this logically.”

  Brit spoke in a voice that was also much quieter, but also much angrier. “Phillip. Am I the first woman you’ve ever been in a fight with?”

  “No.”

  “Am I the first woman you’ve ever told to be more logical?”

  “No.”

  Brit asked, “Has that ever worked out well for you?” She said, “Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you what. I’ll do as you say, and look at the situation logically. Martin keeps saying we should look at who has something to gain from trying to kill me. Well, it occurs to me that one person has gained. He’s gained an excuse to be around me. He’s gained from me being emotionally vulnerable and grateful to him for his support. And, it just so happens that the attacks started right after I first met him, and he’s the only person who’s been present every single time I’ve been attacked. What does that tell you, logically, Phillip?”

  Phillip gaped at her, wounded and confused, then in a small voice he said, “Why am I always a suspect? I’m just about the most harmless person on earth, and yet everyone I get close to is suspicious of me.”

  Brit said, “Good question, Phillip.” She started swiping her finger through the air. Phillip realized that she was setting up the teleport back to Atlantis, which meant that the argument was over. He sighed heavily, and held out his hand.

  Brit looked down at his hand, laughed mirthlessly, and said, “No, I’ll let you get your own ride back.” She disappeared, and left him standing alone, on a beautiful island, in an ugly mood. He raised his staff into the air, took flight, and swung low over the waves, on a direct heading for Atlantis. In his state of mind, he made even flying look like a miserable ordeal.

  25.

  On a chilly fall day in Butte, Montana, Jimmy materialized next to a dumpster in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. He closed his brand new laptop and tucked it into his brand new leather suitcase. He straightened the jacket of his brand-new, blue-pinstriped suit and walked around to the front of the restaurant.

  He looked up at the restaurant’s sign, which read “Pork Chop John’s.”

  Good, he thought. I’m where I want to be. Now let’s see about when.

  The sign featured a cartoon drawing of a pig wearing a crown. According to the sign, the pig’s name was “Pork Chop King.” Not much of a king, Jimmy thought, if all he promises is to let people eat his subjects.

  Jimmy entered the restaurant and casually perused the menu, which was made of plastic-tab letters and hung on the wall above the electronic cash register. It still thrilled Jimmy to see things like cash registers work in his vicinity.

  Jimmy ordered a fried pork chop sandwich and a ten-piece order of pork nuggets. He paid with an extremely beat-up twenty-dollar bill he’d purloined from Agent Miller’s wallet when nobody was looking. It was wrinkled and filthy and taped together, but it was also minted in 1998, and would not arouse suspicion.

  As he waited for his meal, he nonchalantly picked up the top copy from the stack of Penny Press classified ads next to the door. The issue was dated September 21, 2003, just as he’d expected.

  Jimmy ate his sandwich and pork nuggets. He had the dining room to himself for most of the meal, but toward the end two men drove up in a dirt-encrusted Geo Metro. One was a bit heavy with thinning hair and a beard. The other was thin with shoulder-length hair, black-rimmed glasses, and an inhaler. They loudly discussed which fried pork items to purchase, and whether they wanted to get a fried egg on top for an extra dollar. Jimmy discarded his last three pork nuggets and left, grateful to not have to listen to their inane chatter anymore.

  Jimmy walked across the parking lot, across the street, across another parking lot, and up to the entrance of a small apartment building. It looked like it had originally been a motel, but had been converted to more permanent housing within the last few years.

  Jimmy walked to the door of the unit farthest from the office and closest to the road. The room where plumbing noise would be least likely to bother the
neighbors. Jimmy put his ear to the door, hearing nothing, as he’d expected.

  Jimmy raised a fist to knock politely on the door, but then thought better of it. He turned his fist sideways, shifted his weight and pounded on the door loud enough to be sure he’d be heard even from the far corner of the apartment.

  After a moment passed with no answer, Jimmy pounded again. In the far distance, Jimmy heard a faint voice say, “One minute! I’m in the bathroom!”

  “Yes,” Jimmy muttered, “I expect you are.”

  Jimmy waited patiently for a moment, then heard the deadbolt and saw the doorknob turn. The door swung open, and for the first time in thirty years, from Jimmy’s point of view, he was standing face to face with Tyler.

  Back when he was chairman of the wizards of Camelot, Jimmy had made a point of talking to every wizard in his area about their lives, their interests, and where and when they had come from. Knowing that Tyler was from Butte, Montana, had made finding his address simple.

  Tyler had not aged a day. Literally, that was one of the chief perks of being a wizard. Jimmy had aged quite severely, which was one of the chief drawbacks of being an ex-wizard who had spent thirty years mostly outdoors. For a moment Jimmy was worried that Tyler wouldn’t recognize him, but that fear evaporated when Tyler said, “Oh, it’s you.”

  Jimmy said, “Tyler, it is so good to see you again!”

  Tyler silently turned around and retreated back into his apartment. At first, Jimmy wasn’t sure if he was being invited in, or being told to go away, but Tyler hadn’t shut the door, and eventually he gave an irritated look back over his shoulder, as if to say, Well, what are you waiting for?

  Jimmy was surprised by Tyler’s robe. It was different than he remembered. It was still red and purple vertical stripes, but now it had gold decorative accents, and much fancier cuffs. Jimmy asked Tyler what time he was living in currently.

  Tyler said, “The Renaissance,” but offered no further information.