by Scott Meyer
“We don’t know that!”
“We do. She’s here. I can’t die.”
Gwen and Gilbert were both shouting about something, but neither Phillip nor Brit took any notice. Whatever it was couldn’t be as important as this.
Phillip said, “We don’t know that! We can’t know that! You might be killed, and I’m not going to let it happen!”
“Phillip! I’m not going to die!”
“I’m not willing to take that chance!”
“If you get dragged in with me, maybe we both die!”
Phillip said, “I am willing to take that chance.”
Brit said something else, but her words were drowned out by the horrendous sound of the destruction of the statue that was anchoring them.
Like her sisters before her, the statue of Mary Dyer gave way at its thinnest, weakest point. Unlike her sisters, she broke with a terrible cracking noise, not a pop, and she did not fall gracefully to the floor, but instead was slammed down by the force of Sid’s spell directly onto Sid, Gilbert, Gwen, and the lower half of Martin. They all would have been hit if they hadn’t shot forward the instant the statue gave way.
The shock from the impact caused Gwen to lose her grip, and Martin, Phillip, and Brit slid along the floor at breakneck speed. Brit finally reached the portal, and disappeared into the wall. Phillip went into the portal up to his shoulders, then pulled his head and one arm back out. He held his grip on Brit with one hand, flailing desperately for something to hold onto with the other, but there was nothing. Phillip’s arms, head and torso were consumed; only his legs remained visible. Martin held his grip, but his motioned stopped. He was aware that something was keeping him from moving forward, but Phillip’s legs were still being drawn in. Martin strained for a moment, but then Phillip was gone, and Martin was holding a pair of empty boots.
Martin was pulled away from the portal. It was instantly clear that he’d been kept from going in himself by spells cast by one of the fakirs, two Atlantean sorceresses, and a gypsy. They all had finally realized what was happening and how they could stop it. He didn’t blame them for the lateness of their actions. Though it had felt like an eternity to him, the whole ordeal may have only taken less than thirty seconds.
Martin gazed miserably at the blank patch of wall that had just swallowed his friends. He saw Gilbert approach the wall and knock on it with his cane. It was solid. Wherever the portal went, it was closed now. The meeting hall was a scene of utter devastation. The furniture was all wrecked and thrown about willy-nilly. Two of the statues were destroyed, and a malodorous purple haze still tainted the air and hung in a sinister cloud around the ceiling.
Martin felt a gentle kick at his ribs. He looked up, and saw that Sid was offering him a hand up, which he accepted. As he got to his feet, Martin said, “Thanks for pitching in. I know you don’t much like Phillip and me. Why is that?”
Sid ignored the question, instead saying, “Doesn’t matter. We have nothing against Brit. Any idea where they went?”
Martin shook his head.
“Well then, do you have any idea who’s behind all this?”
“Until recently, my chief suspect was you two.”
Sid let out a resigned sigh and said, “And you wonder why we don’t like you.”
Gwen ran up and hugged Martin. Martin smiled. Sid grimaced. Then she hugged Sid, which made Martin grimace and Sid smile.
Gwen said, “Thank you for your help.”
Sid said, “We’d have jumped in sooner, but we didn’t think there was any real danger until Brit disappeared.”
Martin said, “But you both jumped in before Brit went into the wall.”
Sid shook his head. “No, not that Brit. The other one.”
Gwen said, “We tried to tell Brit the Younger that, but clearly none of you were listening. While you were sliding across the floor, Brit the Elder vanished.”
Martin was aghast. “You mean she left?”
“No,” Gwen said. “She looked surprised, then she disappeared.”
Martin’s blood ran cold. It would take some time to make sense of this, if it was even possible, which was never a sure thing when time travel was involved. Brit the Elder disappearing was bad news. Heck, Brit the Elder looking surprised was bad news.
Martin had the sudden, sinking feeling that maybe Phillip had been right all along, which, for several reasons, was the worst news of all.
A single voice rang out strong and clear above the confused chatter in the room. All eyes turned to the podium, Brit the Elder’s podium, and saw Ida, the duly elected president of Atlantis.
“I think,” she said, “given what just happened, that we should adjourn for the day.”
27.
The woods were dark and deep, but nobody would ever describe them as “lovely.” Jimmy had materialized a good distance away from his eventual goal, and was spending his walking time preparing for what would happen when he reached it. Despite the difficulty that had marked the last thirty years of his existence, Jimmy knew that in many ways the most difficult part was still ahead of him.
Directly ahead of him, in fact.
Bicycling back to North America had been a matter of patience, persistence, and risk avoidance. Getting what he’d needed out of Martin’s parents and the treasury agents had just been straightforward social engineering, which had always been Jimmy’s forte. The task Jimmy was starting now was more social engineering, but of a much higher difficulty level. If he pulled this off, it would be his proudest achievement.
It was mid-afternoon, but the light was flat and gray. Jimmy walked through the decaying, lifeless forest and let his mind wander. He could have materialized at his destination and saved himself some effort, but he found that before attempting something difficult, it was helpful to take some time and think about anything else.
Also, walking up on foot would be good showbiz. It would make him seem small and harmless, which was always a good approach when dealing with someone who wants to be seen as big and powerful. As he entered the clearing and saw the sacrificial pyre, the imposing cliff, and the cave that had been carved to look like a fearsome skull with its angry brow and its sharpened, elongated canines, he knew that he had chosen the right approach.
Jimmy walked to the dormant sacrificial pyre in the center of the clearing. He sat his briefcase to the side, extended his arms as if praying to the cave, and bellowed, “Oh mighty wizard of the cave, I come to you in this, my hour of great need, in hopes that you might offer aid!”
The cave remained dark and silent.
Jimmy continued, “In exchange for fair compensation, of course.”
The skull’s eyes burst to life, emitting gouts of fire that burned an unnatural blood-red. The mouth spewed forth a thick red fog that rolled down the cliff and pooled in the clearing, quickly obscuring the ground from view. The cold sacrificial pyre in front of Jimmy burst into flames. A thunderous voice echoed through the forest, so loud Jimmy felt it in his bones.
“Who dares to seek the assistance of the necromancer? What challenge do you face that could drive you to risk my wrath, and what did you mean by ‘compensation’?”
Jimmy dredged up his friendliest, most harmless-sounding tone of voice, and said, “I invite you to come and find out for yourself.”
For a moment the fire and fog continued to pour from the skull, but there was no sound and no other movement. Then, Jimmy barely made out a dark shape moving in the fog-filled cave mouth.
That’s it, Jimmy thought. Take a little sneaky peek. He didn’t need Gary to recognize him at first; in fact it would be better if he didn’t. The sight of a sixty-something-year-old man standing here in his medieval clearing, wearing a smart business suit and attempting to summon a necromancer should be more than enough to whet his curiosity.
Jimmy saw the dark shape moving in the cave get more distinct, the
n he clearly made out a head in a pointed hat, and an arm attempting to wave some of the red fog out if its way.
One of the keys to persuading people is to get them to like you. One of the keys to getting people to like you is to behave like the kind of person your mark likes. People try to be likeable, so they tend to act like the kind of person they like, which is a mistake, because they invariably get this act wrong. That’s why acting exactly the way another person acts is a sure way to make that person dislike you.
Jimmy knew that the key to making someone like him was not to act how that person acts, but to act like that person thinks they act. In Gary’s case, that meant good-natured teasing that, unlike Gary’s “good-natured teasing,” was demonstrably good-natured and actually amusing to someone other than the person doing the teasing.
Jimmy said, in a proud voice, “Your cave has fangs.”
Gary looked up at the sculpted teeth hanging down just above his head and said, “It’s a skull.”
Jimmy asked, “Is it a vampire skull?”
The mouth glowed with an eerie green light that, when combined with the red fog, made Jimmy think of Christmas. The glow enveloped the circumference of the cave opening, and then dissipated. When Jimmy’s eyes had readjusted, he saw that all of the teeth were now sharpened.
The voice from the fog said, “Is that better?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “Very necromantic.”
Gary said, “Who is that?” He walked forward so that he was clear of the fog. Clearly, the sight of a gray-haired man in a suit did not alleviate his confusion.
Jimmy stood still, hands at his sides, and said, “Hello, Gary. It’s good to see you.”
Gary tilted his head to one side, then flew down, landing across the pyre from Jimmy. He looked at Jimmy in the dim gray light, clearly trying to place his face. Recognition hit him like a jolt of electricity, and in an instant he was pointing his staff like a rifle, directly at Jimmy’s face.
Okay, Jimmy thought, what emotions am I trying to communicate here?
Jimmy was happy to be back, so he smiled. He knew that Gary wasn’t happy that he was back, so he raised his eyebrows apologetically. He was being threatened, so he raised his hands, but he knew that Gary wouldn’t just attack without warning, so he only raised them to head height. He knew that Gary had good reason to distrust him, so he bowed his head submissively. He knew that Gary was probably more scared than he was, so he kept his voice low and his tone friendly.
“You!” Gary yelled.
“Yes,” Jimmy said.
Gary yelled, “Shut up!”
Jimmy pursed his lips and nodded.
Gary circled slowly, keeping his staff aimed at Jimmy’s head. He nudged Jimmy’s leather briefcase with his foot, then asked, “What’s in this?”
Jimmy spent half a second considering making a smart-aleck comment about how he was told not to talk, purely because that was what Gary would do in that situation, but he quickly decided that the non-threatening posture was more important than currying favor.
“My computer, and some socks and underwear,” Jimmy said.
Gary considered this, then continued circling until he was behind Jimmy. He thought for a moment, then tucked his staff under his arm and frisked Jimmy quickly and inexpertly.
“Got a wand hidden on you somewhere?” he asked.
“No. I’m unarmed. Even if I had a wand, I’m short a hat and robe, so the shell wouldn’t obey my commands, not that I’m in the shell anymore. We both know I had my privileges revoked.”
Gary seemed satisfied. As he circled back around to Jimmy’s front, Jimmy saw that instead of holding his staff like a rifle aimed at Jimmy’s face, he pointed it from the hip, in Jimmy’s general direction. This, in Jimmy’s life, was what passed for progress.
Gary studied Jimmy for a long moment, then asked, “How did you do it?”
I mustn’t sound angry, Jimmy thought. I can sound happy to be here, sad for what I did, grateful that he’s talking to me, but I can show no anger.
“How’d I manage to return?” Jimmy said, clarifying and subtly reframing the question. “It took thirty years and a great deal of effort.”
“Why’d you come back?”
“Wouldn’t you, Gary? Think about it. If you got kicked out of the shell and sent back to your time without file access, wouldn’t you spend the rest of your life trying to return?”
Gary thought about this, then smiled, and said, “So we should have killed you.”
No anger, Jimmy reminded himself. He shrugged, and made his eyes about ten percent sadder, an amount he calculated to be noticeable without overselling it. “I’m glad that you didn’t, but I guess yes, Gary. If the goal was to make sure I’d never turn up again, then you should have killed me. I have to admit, I had it coming.”
Gary raised the end of his staff slightly, as if readying himself to use it. “And now you’re here to kill us.”
Jimmy fought a smile, which would have been just as damning as showing anger. He was delighted at how Gary had phrased that question. He hadn’t said that Jimmy was here for revenge or payback or to give us what’s coming to us or any other ambiguous clichés. He’d made the delightfully concrete statement, “You’re here to kill us.” Jimmy could reply to that both directly and honestly, which was good. As Jimmy always said, the easiest way to keep people from thinking that you’re lying is to not lie.
“No,” Jimmy said in a firm tone of voice. “I’m not here to kill anybody. I’m done with that. I know that for you, that all just happened, but for me it’s been decades. I’ve had plenty of time to think about what I did and how you all reacted.”
All true, Jimmy thought.
Gary said, “I don’t believe you.”
Jimmy took this as more good news. If he didn’t believe me at all, he’d just hit me with a spell, call all the other wizards, and they’d either kill me or send me back to my time, but he didn’t. He took the trouble to tell me that he doesn’t believe me, which tells me that he doesn’t totally disbelieve me either. Even if he’s only five percent unsure, I can use it. It’s a seed of doubt that will grow into a tree of trust, which I can sit beneath for shade or cut down for lumber as I see fit.
“You don’t have to believe me,” Jimmy said, his hands still raised to head height. “I wouldn’t ask you to after what I did. Look, we both know that I’m not in the shell, so there’s only so much I can do, right? I only got back file access yesterday. You’re the second person I’ve visited. I’ve stopped my aging, set up time travel and teleportation, and expanded my bank account, but that’s all. I have no weapons.”
Jimmy risked lowering a hand to point at his briefcase. “My computer is right there. We can go into your cave. You can fire up my laptop and look for yourself.”
Jimmy could see the wheels turning behind Gary’s eyes. A question was coming. Jimmy thought about all of the possible things that might still be bugging Gary, and figured about a ninety percent chance that he would ask Jimmy why he’d come back here, and not to some other time and place.
Gary gave Jimmy a shrewd look, and asked, “Why’d you come back here? Why not just go to some other time and place?”
“Good question,” Jimmy said. “I don’t want to be a fugitive for the rest of my life, especially if I’m immortal. If I’d gone to some other time, I’d have to live in fear of one of you all finding me, and eventually you would. Naturally you’d attack me, and send me back to exile, if I was lucky. There’s a good chance you’d just kill me and be done with it. No, the only way for me to have peace is to come back here, to the scene of the crime and . . .” Jimmy chose his next words very carefully, “try to make things right.”
“Jimmy, you killed a town. A whole town! And when we told you that you shouldn’t have, you tried to kill us.”
Jimmy said, “Yes. I know. I’m not saying that I can
ever truly make things right, but, Gary, I have to try.”
Gary said nothing.
Jimmy slowly lowered his hands. “We can just go inside. You can look at my computer. You know you’ll be able to see exactly what powers I have, and what powers I don’t. Then, I’ll tell you what I plan to do. If you disapprove, you can easily incapacitate me and call everyone else to come and decide what to do with me, and I don’t mean that I’ll let you incapacitate me; we both know that I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
Gary thought, let out a long sigh, then rolled his eyes and gestured with his staff, indicating the cave mouth. Jimmy picked up his briefcase, and said. “Thank you, Gary. Thank you so much.”
He meant it. He’d never been more grateful in his life.
He’s willing to listen to reason, Jimmy thought. That means that as long as I can keep coming up with reasons, he’ll keep listening.
28.
Gwen and Martin materialized outside Brit the Younger’s front door. They rang the doorbell, though they had little hope of Brit being home. They knew Nik was there, convalescing after his relatively gentle arrow injury and horrifically sudden and violent surgery.
After a moment, Nik opened the door. He looked weak, but his manners and spirits were intact. He invited them in and offered them a cold drink. They refused, and told him to sit down. Martin asked if he needed anything. Martin leaned Phillip’s mislaid staff against the wall, then went to the kitchen to get Nik a drink while Gwen told Nik what had happened at the summit meeting. Nik seemed unconcerned, until Gwen told him that Brit the Elder had disappeared as well, at which point he became deeply concerned.
“I always thought nothing could hurt Brit,” Nik said. “You know, as long as the other Brit was around.”
Gwen said, “That’s what we all thought.” She was sitting on the couch next to Nik, holding his hands. As Martin entered and handed Nik a glass of water, he reflected on the fact that he’d only known Brit less than a week, and Phillip only a few months. As upset as he was, he could only imaging how Gwen must feel. She’d known Brit for two years, and Phillip for over a decade. Martin felt young and foolish.