by R. L. King
Hmm. Stone suspected he knew exactly where Harrison was getting hold of these exotic items.
“Anyway,” she said, pulling back into the garage at her house, “that’s about it for the overview tour. If you stay with us, you can see things in more detail later. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for a while, though—I’ve got some work I need to finish. But make yourself at home. Vynna will get you something to eat. After that, I’d suggest you might want to rest before you talk to Trevor tonight. I suspect you two will have a lot to discuss, and I’m not sure the man ever sleeps.”
25
Another of the sleek cars showed up at Errin’s house later that evening. It was already dark by then, and Errin was just pulling up when Vynna came to let Stone know the driver had come to take him to his meeting with Harrison.
“We won’t wait up,” Errin told him with a smile. “I hope you get the rest of your questions answered.”
So do I, Stone thought.
He’d spent most of the rest of the afternoon sleeping, following a delicious lunch. He hadn’t meant to sleep the day away, but he must have been more tired than he’d thought. He’d only awakened when Vynna knocked on his door to give him time to clean up, change clothes, and eat a light meal before Harrison’s driver showed up.
“He didn’t really need to send you to collect me,” Stone told the driver as he climbed in to the black vehicle. “I think I can walk that far.”
“It’s no trouble,” the driver assured him.
The Nexus tower turned out to be farther away than Stone had thought. He wasn’t sure if magic or some kind of optical illusion was in effect, but it took them ten minutes to get there after leaving Argana behind and heading out along a narrow road that meandered up the rocky hill on which the tower perched.
Stone studied the featureless black wall as they drew closer. He didn’t see anything resembling an entrance, but wasn’t surprised when the driver kept going as if he planned to run into the tower’s side. As he suspected, the car hit the wall and continued through in to a large, open area. “Nice,” he said. “That’s some fancy illusion work.”
“You haven’t seen the half of it,” the man said, chuckling. He pointed toward a door. “Just through there. You’re expected, so just stand on the teleportation pad and it’ll take you where you’re going.”
“Teleportation pad?” Bloody hell. He’s got them here too? “Er—right, then. Thank you.”
The car sped off as soon as he exited. His heart pounded with excitement—even if Harrison couldn’t help him get his magic working here, he no doubt could send him home, and if he could get home with some knowledge about how teleportation worked…
Stop it, he told himself. You’re getting ahead of yourself.
As soon as he stepped through the door, it was as if he had returned to Earth. The hallway was like any other in an upscale modern-day commercial building back home: soft, dark gray carpeting, lighter gray walls, indirect lighting. He could have walked into any office building in the business district of any large city.
Except for the glowing disc on the floor at the other end.
Stone hurried to it and then stopped to examine it. It looked similar to the ones he’d seen when they’d taken him to Temolan after he was captured: about four feet in diameter, encircled by a sleek, brushed-metal railing with a single entrance point.
He experienced a brief moment of panic: What if Harrison doesn’t know my magic’s gone? How am I supposed to operate this thing? He had an amusing mental picture of getting stranded down here, having to pace around waiting for Harrison to wonder what had become of him and come looking. Great way to make an impression.
But then again, Harrison also knew that, even with his magic, he didn’t have any experience with teleportation beyond the Earth portals which obviously worked quite differently. Ah, well—he wouldn’t know if he didn’t try.
He took a decisive step onto the pad, centered himself on it, and stood still, waiting for something to happen.
For a second, he didn’t think anything had happened—at least until he saw that the scenery had changed. “Bloody hell…” he whispered, impressed in spite of himself.
Instead of the gray-carpeted hallway, he now stood in a small room. The floor here was rich, dark wood, the walls painted slate gray. There had been no sense of jarring disorientation, no lurch or buzz or indeed any other sensation of movement or magic.
“Good evening, Dr. Stone,” said a voice. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to Mr. Harrison.”
Stone stared. Standing in the doorway was a…what the hell is that thing?
The best way he could describe it was to call it some kind of mechanical robot. Standing about shoulder-height on him, it had a pleasant, neutral humanoid face with glowing gold eyes, a broad-shouldered body that tapered down to a single wheel, and arms made of metal pieces held together by cables and conduits. It didn’t have a working mouth, but its voice sounded clear, undistorted, and just a bit otherworldly.
“Er—Right. Lead on, then.”
“This way, please.” The thing spun on its wheel and rolled off at a leisurely pace.
Stone hastened to follow it, wondering how many more astonishing shocks he was in for this evening. He studied the thing from the back as it led him down another hallway; even though it was clearly some kind of robot, it didn’t have a high-tech, science-fiction feel to it. Rather, it looked like something that had been cobbled together from high-end spare parts by someone who was a master at matching components. The effect worked, giving the thing a soothing, efficient feel. Had Harrison built this? He remembered Errin talking about being the “chief mechanic”—maybe this was another of her inventions.
The robot-thing stopped in front of a pair of dark-wood double doors. “Just inside,” it said, as the doors swung silently open. “Have a pleasant evening.” Before Stone could say anything else, it rolled off.
Stone watched it go before stepping through the door.
His first impression was that the room he was standing in reminded him of something, but it took him a few seconds to realize what it was. Then it came to him: the place looked similar in design and layout to Harrison’s penthouse back at the Obsidian in Vegas, where they’d first met. The same dark wood floors, the same kinds of sparse but exquisite furnishings, the same style of angular, minimalist art pieces. It even had the same sweeping, floor-to-ceiling windows, though these looked out not over the blazing Las Vegas strip but rather a velvety black sky dotted with thousands of stars. The effect was eerie, but nonetheless breathtakingly beautiful.
Trevor Harrison stood, as he had when Stone had first met him, framed against the window. He turned when Stone appeared.
“Good evening, Dr. Stone. I apologize for my absence earlier today.” He wore the same black trousers and crisp white shirt he’d worn earlier that day, now with the sleeves turned up. He held a glass in one hand.
“Er—that’s…all right,” Stone said, feeling suddenly at a loss for words. “Your friend Errin gave me the tour, and I slept for half the afternoon. Must have been more tired than I thought.”
“I am not surprised. Would you care for a drink?”
It suddenly struck Stone how long it had been since he’d had a decent drink. “I would love one. Thank you. This has all been—quite a lot to take in.”
“Indeed.” He crossed to a small bar, then gave Stone a questioning glance.
“Whatever you’ve got—aside from the spiced ale, I haven’t tried any of the liquor here.”
Harrison offered a slight smile. “We’re not limited to Calanarian spirits here, Dr. Stone.”
“Oh, really? Well, surprise me, then. Believe me, I’m not picky at present.”
Harrison studied him a moment, then selected a bottle, poured a generous shot, and floated the glass over to Stone. “Please—sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I suspect you have a great deal you wish to discuss.”
“You people truly are ma
sters of understatement.” Stone took an experimental sip and grinned. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Haven’t had a decent scotch—or any scotch—since I got here.”
He took the indicated chair, which faced the magnificent view out the window. “I don’t even know where to begin, to be honest. I suppose I should start by thanking you for getting me out of that hellhole in Temolan. I thought I was dead for sure.”
“I apologize that it took as long as it did.” Harrison sat opposite Stone. “I had no idea you were here until I got word that someone named Stone was looking for me.”
“Yes, well, I did try to be discreet about it—especially after I found out you were some kind of legendary wanted figure most people don’t even believe exists.” Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Stone leaned forward. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Harrison, could I just start with some questions? As I said, I don’t even know where to begin, but shall I just jump in somewhere?”
Harrison inclined his head. “I will do my best to answer. And then perhaps you will answer a few of my own questions.”
“Of course. If I can, anyway. The one thing I’m learning painfully around here is how much I don’t know.” He took a couple of breaths, trying to calm his whirling thoughts; right now, his head felt like one of those old-fashioned spinning cages full of ping-pong balls they used to pick lottery numbers out of. For lack of a better strategy, he decided on a chronological approach. “To start with—how the hell did you get out of that portal? How are you even alive?”
“As you might have guessed, I have access to techniques you weren’t aware of.”
“You mean teleportation.”
“Yes.”
“So you—what—just popped over to the Evil’s dimension, set that crystal, then popped back here?”
“Yes.”
“But—how did you even survive? You’d taken a point-blank shot to the chest, and you went to a place where you should have died nearly instantly even if you were at full capacity.”
“I am…difficult to kill, Dr. Stone.”
Stone got it loud and clear: Harrison didn’t plan to elaborate on that. “Okay, then—you’re telling me you can do interdimensional teleportation without a gateway?”
“Yes. With some limitations, of course. But essentially, yes.”
“Bloody hell, that’s amazing. Can others here do it as well? I know the mages in Temolan have teleport pads they use to get to the surface, but…” He trailed off, inviting Harrison to answer.
Harrison’s unsettling gaze never strayed from Stone. “No,” he said at last. “They have access to teleportation techniques, obviously, but they are limited to this dimension.”
Stone mulled that over. “I…see,” he said. Another deep breath. At any other time, he would be peppering Harrison with questions about the techniques and how they worked, but right now he had more pressing matters on his mind. “Listen—Mr. Harrison—I would love to chat with you about this. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to chat with you about this for as long as you’re willing. But before I can do that…well, I’ve got a problem. And it’s the reason I’ve come here in the first place.”
“I had wondered why you were here. And how you managed to discover my location.”
“That was your doing,” Stone said. “You gave my apprentice the key when you spoke to her a while back.”
“Ah.” A brief look of approval, and then the impassive mask was back.
“You said I already had the means to find you. That stumped me for quite some time, but then something happened to make me more…motivated. I worked out that if I already had the means, it must have something to do with tracing the power source you tap for your magic.”
“Excellent, Dr. Stone. I am impressed by your ingenuity. In truth, I didn’t expect you to discover the answer.” He set his glass down. “Although I suppose I should have, given the progress you made with the rudimentary notes I sent you.”
“Yes, well—that’s part of what I want to talk to you about. But first—right now asking you about anything to do with magic would be pointless…since I don’t have any at present.”
Harrison raised an eyebrow. “I had heard you were without your magical abilities, but I thought my reports were mistaken—or that you were feigning your power loss.”
Stone snorted. “Feigning? Do you think I’d have let those arrogant bastards treat me like rubbish—nearly kill me several times—if I’d had a choice about it? No, Mr. Harrison—I’m currently as mundane as your sofa. Possibly more so, given how magical this world seems to be. I’d suspected it had something to do with the typical burnout, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“Burnout?”
“You don’t know?” That was news. Stone had begun to suspect there wasn’t much Harrison didn’t know, especially when it came to magic.
“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Dr. Stone.”
Well. That was somewhat comforting, at least: Harrison hadn’t revealed his methods to Stone without warning him that using the power source would burn out his own magical abilities for anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks, depending on how much he tapped it. “Nakamura didn’t tell you? Surely you’ve spoken to him since the last time we talked.”
“I have. He mentioned that you had an issue with your magic shortly after the situation at Burning Man—he said you believed accessing my techniques had affected your ability to use magic. But I directed him to do a bit of discreet checking and he discovered you seemed to have recovered. At least you never attempted to contact him about it again.”
“I did recover—at least to the extent that my magic returned. It was never that bad after that, mostly because I never risked using as much of your energy source again.”
“Indeed.” Harrison’s eyebrow rose again. “I was not aware of that—certainly not when I provided you with the information I sent. Forgive me, Dr. Stone, if it caused you inconvenience.”
That’s putting it mildly, Stone thought, remembering how close he’d come to committing suicide when he thought he’d permanently lost his magical abilities. But that was in the past, and there was no point bringing it up now. “I’ve learned to…deal with it,” he said. “I only use it in emergencies now—truthfully, it’s saved my arse on more than one occasion, so I suppose it’s a fair trade-off. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Harrison waited silently, picking up his drink again.
“I know your magic is on a completely different wavelength than anything most of us use back home, but you’re certainly familiar with the contrast between black and white magic?”
“Of course.”
“Well—the short version is, something happened recently that forced me to switch teams.”
“Switch…teams?” His eyes narrowed. “You have become a black mage.”
“Yes. Exactly. I didn’t have a lot of choice—if I hadn’t done it, people I cared about would have died. But now I’m having—issues with coping with it.”
“Issues.” Harrison leaned back in his chair. “What sort of issues?”
“I went black because I had to ash someone—a powerful mage, as it happened. The sensations involved were…quite intense. So much so that I’ve found myself craving them. And that disturbs me.”
Harrison tilted his head. “Dr. Stone, forgive me, but I am not certain I see—”
“I’ve been having trouble taking power, even from willing contributors, without risking their injury,” Stone said, forging ahead in a rush. “Which, in turn, means I’ve been avoiding all but the simplest magical techniques. And as you might have guessed about me, that’s…unacceptable, if there’s any alternative.”
Harrison didn’t reply right away. Instead, he rose gracefully and went back to the window, where he stood gazing at the panoply of stars outside the window. After a long silence, he said softly, “And you consider me your alternative.”
Stone got up too, unable to remain still any longer. “Teach me, Mr. Harrison,” he said.
“Please. Teach me how to use your power source safely, so I can tap into it instead of taking power from other people. That’s why I worked out the way to come here. That’s why I’ve put myself through all this hell trying to find you, when I wasn’t even certain I’d gone to the right place.”
Once again, Harrison didn’t reply.
“Mr. Harrison—?”
“I am not a teacher, Dr. Stone.” Harrison didn’t turn back toward him, but continued to face outward toward the night sky. “I believe I mentioned that to your apprentice when she found me at the Obsidian.”
Stone stared at him, his breath stilling in his throat. “I’m not asking you to teach me magic. I know magic. All I need is the key to accessing your power source—this dimension. I know it can be done from Earth—I’ve done it to my limited extent, and you—well, I’ve seen what you can do.” When Harrison still didn’t answer, he continued, a little louder, “You sent me the fundamentals, and I worked them out. Why would you have done that if you hadn’t expected me to use them in a practical capacity?”
“Perhaps I wanted to see if you could make any sense of them.”
“Well, I did. But I haven’t been able to work out how to do it without burning myself out. I can’t lose my magic for an indefinite period every time I cast a spell. But if I go back to black magic, I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before I kill someone. I did it once, and almost did it again.”
Harrison turned. His expression was, as usual, unreadable as his gaze settled back on Stone. He still didn’t speak.
Stone took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing nerves. Could Harrison really be saying he wouldn’t teach him? After all he’d gone through to get here? After all the hours he’d spent studying the handful of handwritten pages that were all he had to work with? “Mr. Harrison—please don’t make me beg you. I will if necessary, if it will do any good. I’m a wealthy man these days—if it’s payment you want—”