On Her Majesty's Wizardly Service fw-2

by Diane Duane

  The ehhif was mostly in black: long narrow trousers, a white shirt with a peculiar cloth wrapped around the neck and tucked into the shirt’s collar: then a sort of short close coat that came down only to the waist, and over that a bigger coat, dark again. The ehhif himself was tall, and fair-furred, and had a lot more fur around the face than was popular these days: he might have been in middle age.

  “He’s stopped breathing—” Fhrio said suddenly.

  Rhiow looked at him more closely. “It might just be a sigh,” she said. “But just in case, we’d better spell-fence him. He’s going to need support spelling anyway when he wakes up—”

  She started walking the beginning of a wizard’s circle around the ehhif and the gate together. Arhu had dropped the string he had pulled and was looking off down the old train runnel. “Now what in the Dam’s name,” said a voice from a little distance down the tunnel, and a second later Auhlae jumped up onto the platform, with Siffha’h in tow. Arhu looked at her, then turned and sat down hurriedly and began to wash.

  “Auhlae,” Fhrio said, “where’s Huff?”

  “He’ll be along shortly,” she said, walking along to the ehhif and peering at him. “Iau’s name,” Auhlae said, “it’s another one.”

  “Yes,” Fhrio said, and said nothing more for the moment: but Rhiow could hear trouble in his voice. She ignored it for the moment. “Has he started breathing again?”

  Auhlae looked closely at him, and put her face down close to the ehhif s, feeling for breath. “None at the moment. Siffha’h,” she said. “When Rhiow finishes, put some power into her circle, this poor ehhif is going to need it. I think he’s in shock.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Siffha’h said, coming over to look at the circle Rhiow was building as she paced and assembled the spell in her mind. “Pretty standard,” she said. “Which part do you want me to fuel first?”

  “The main strand and the life-support part,” Rhiow said. “I want to feel if there’s anything actually wrong with his body before we start interfering.” She completed the circle, tying the “wizard’s knot” in the air with a flirt of her tail: pale fire followed it briefly and died away—normally she would have preferred to see her guidelines in visible light, but the appearance of strange fires from nowhere was not likely to do this poor ehhif any good when he became conscious.

  “Now then—” she said. The basic spell-circle lay traced in ghost lines on the concrete around the ehhif. Rhiow now made one more turn around it, her paws pressing into the circle the graphic forms of those words of the Speech which Rhiow was assembling in her mind, the words which would control the function of the spell. One by one they appeared in graceful ghost curves and arabesques interwoven around the main curve of the circle, like vines twining around a support, until the last few words rooted themselves into the wizard’s knot and became one with it.

  “Ready,” she said. Siffha’h looked the circle over, found the power-supply access point and stood on it: the circle flared for just a second with power, then damped down again.

  Rhiow, still standing on the control point of the circle at the wizard’s knot, nearly jumped off it at the abrupt access of power into the spell, and secondarily, into her. It was partly the suddenness of its inrush, and partly the sheer volume of it, and the unusual taste of it when it came—mostly the taste of Siffha’h’s mind: young and fierce and bold, surprisingly so for such a young queen, with a great sense of potential unused and potential still developing, and behind everything, driving it all, some huge and dimly-perceived desire. Rhiow shied away from any attempt to look more closely at that—it was none of her business—but was impressed by it all the same. This young queen was going to be quite something as she grew into more certainty about her work and her life.

  “That enough to work with for the moment?” Siffha’h said.

  “For several hours, if you ask me,” Rhiow said, impressed: “Thanks, cousin!” She turned her attention to the spell. She had no proper name for the ehhif, and so had used one of the species-generic terms and an indicator for his gender: now her mind ran down through that connection to his, and felt about gingerly in the ehhif’s mind. The part of his brain that ran breathing and blood pressure and other functions was undamaged: but the emotional shock had thrown his blood chemistry badly out of kilter, and left him in a “sigh” that was much more prolonged than the usual fifteen seconds. That chemistry was getting worse as she watched, but fortunately the problem was a simple one, already partially rectified. Rhiow cured it by increasing the acidity of his blood ever so slightly, a process already under way, and the automatic response to such an increase took over, so that the ehhif gasped, and then started to breathe normally again.

  “Nothing too serious, then,” Auhlae said, putting her ears forward in relief.

  “No, just the kind of thing that causes hiccups, but a little more severe,” Rhiow said, relieved, and shook herself a little to get rid of the peculiar cramped narrow feeling of an ehhif’s mind. “It’s his emotional state that I’m more worried about, when he becomes conscious again. He may need quieting. Let’s see how he does …”

  The ehhif was stirring a little already. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” said another voice from down the tunnel, and Urruah leapt up onto the platform. “There were some things I had to take care—” He broke off, going wide-eyed as he took in the whole scene in a second. “Hey,” he said then. “So wishing works after all.”

  “Whether it does or not, we’d better shut this gate down,” Fhrio said. “The last thing we need at the moment is another access, especially one into a spell-circle when whoever might come through isn’t named in the spell—”

  Urruah stared at him. “Are you kidding? Lock it open!”

  “What?”

  “If we don’t lock it open I won’t be able to get a reading on where the other end is anchored,” Urruah said, “and that’s information we badly need. Are you set up to do it? Then let me.”

  Fhrio bristled at that, but Auhlae bumped him from one side, distracting him. “He’s right,” she said. “Rhiow, you’ll want to put his personal information into the spell so that he can step through. Just make sure you lock it in nonpatent configuration, Urruah. Come on, Fhrio, we have other things to attend to. Poor ehhif, look at him, he’s in a state.”

  The ehhif’s eyes were open now. He lay there staring around him at the darkness, and tried to sit up once: failed, and slumped back again.

  “Where—” he said, and then trailed off at the sound of his own voice in the close darkness of the tunnel.

  The wizards exchanged glances. “If this isn’t errantry,” Auhlae said, “what is?”

  She padded over to the edge of the circle and sat down where the ehhif could see her. Once again he tried to sit up, and did a little better this time, managing at least to hitch himself up one elbow and look around. The light here was not good, even by feline standards: it was questionable how much he could see.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Auhlae said to him in the Speech. “You’ve had a fall. Are you hurt?”

  “No, I-I mean, I think not, but where—where is this?” He tried to sit up again. “Where are you?”

  “Here in front of you,” Auhlae said, with a look at Rhiow.

  She was ready. The ehhif looked around him, and saw Auhlae … then looked past her. “Where?”

  “Right here, in front of you,” she said, and even in the rather dire circumstances, Rhiow could hear the sound of slight amusement in Auhlae’s voice. “The cat,” she added, and this time the amusement was genuine.

  The ehhif looked at Auhlae, and then actually laughed out loud, though the laughter was shaky. “Oh surely not,” he said. “Some kind of ventriloquism. I’ve seen illusionists’ shows; I know what kind of tricks may be played on an unsuspecting audience—”

  Auhlae sighed a little. “In front of an audience, a skilled stage magician can produce all kinds of illusions, I know,” she said, “but this isn’t that kind of thing. Rhiow, m
aybe you’d better let the light of the circle come up a little.”

  She waved her tail in agreement, meanwhile watching the ehhif closely for any signs that he was about to go shocky again.

  “Mr…—Illingworth,” said Auhlae after a moment, as the light of the circle grew and the ehhif looked around him, “please don’t believe this a trick. It is something out of your experience, though. Perhaps you would prefer to think of it as a dream. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

  The ehhif looked around at the circle, and the cat inside it with him, its paws thrust into the glowing webwork which the circle surrounded, and the four other cats outside: and he blinked. “I suppose not, but where are you? And how do you know my name?”

  “Please don’t bother looking for any other humans, because you’ll see none here,” Auhlae said. “Just pretend, if you will, that the cats are speaking to you.”

  “But how do you know my name?” the ehhif demanded, more urgently now. “Is it—is this some kind of plot—”

  Through the spell, Rhiow could feel the ehhif’s blood pressure beginning to spike. She watched it carefully, and felt down the spell for indications of any sudden physical movement: there were too many ways he could damage himself, physically and nonphysically, if he tried to break out of the circle before it was correctly disassembled.

  “It’s no plot,” Auhlae said, “though I wouldn’t mind hearing why you would think it was one.”

  The ehhif looked around him, still trying to find the source of the voice which spoke to him: and now he started to look suspicious. “There are plots everywhere these days,” he said, and his voice sounded unusually troubled. “Everything used to seem so safe once … but now nothing is what it seems—”

  His blood pressure spiked again with his anxiety, and Rhiow could feel his muscles getting ready for a jump. Better not, she thought, and spoke briefly to his adrenal glands through the spell. They obligingly stopped the chemical process which was already producing adrenaline, and instead produced a quick jolt of endorphins that left Mr. Illingworth blinking in slightly buzzed bemusement, and much less prepared to get up and run anywhere. Rhiow was ready to lock his muscles immobile if she had to, but she preferred less invasive and energy-intensive measures to start with.

  “How do you mean?” Auhlae said.

  “The war,” said Mr… Illingworth, and now his voice started to sound mournful. “What use in being the mightiest nation on the globe when we must be bombed for the privilege? There was a time when no one dared lift a hand to us. But now our enemies have gathered together and grown bold, and London itself is prey …”

  At that Auhlae looked sharply at Fhrio. Fhrio’s eyes were wide. Bombed? he said silently, to her and the others. London hasn’t been bombed for fifty years.

  “When did this start?” Auhlae said, and for all her attempts to keep her voice soothing, her alarm came through.

  “A year or so ago,” said Mr… Illingworth wearily. “There were troubles before then … but nothing like the crisis we face now.” And much to Rhiow’s surprise, the ehhif put his face down in his hands. “Not since the Queen died …”

  The Queen? Urruah said then, pausing in his work with the gate. What’s he talking about?

  “ ‘The Queen’? Which queen?” Auhlae said.

  The ehhiflooked up again, and looked around him with a much less fuzzy air: Rhiow felt his blood pressure start spiking again. “How can you not know about the great tragedy,” Mr… Illingworth said, “for which a whole nation mourns, and at which the whole world looked on amazed? Only spies would pretend not to know how the Queen-Empress was assassinated, treacherously killed by—” He started to struggle to his feet.

  Rhiow clamped the spell down on him, shorting out the neurotransmitter chemistry servicing his voluntary musculature, but being careful to avoid his lungs. Still the ehhif gasped, though he couldn’t struggle, and his fear began to grow. “Let me go!’ he said loudly, and then started to shout, “Spies! Traitors! Let me go! Police!”

  The sound of that cry could be kept from being heard, of course, but Rhiow had other concerns. Auhlae, she said silently, there’s no point in this. It takes doing for an ehhif to frighten itself to death, but this one’s pretty emotionally labile: he might be able to do it. And he’s been under a lot of stress—

  You’re right, Auhlae said. Better put him to sleep.

  Rhiow reached into the spell and spoke to the ehhif’s brain chemistry. A moment later his eyes closed, and his head sagged slightly, though he did not move otherwise: she kept the hold on his muscles, just for safety’s sake.

  “ ‘Bombed’?” Urruah said then.

  “One moment,” Rhiow said. “Urruah, how’s the gate?”

  “Locked open but nonpatent, like Auhlae said.”

  “Have you got a time fix on the opening?”

  “Not yet. The congruency with our present timeframe is not one-to-one, Rhi. The spatiotemporal coordinate readings I’m getting at the moment are not meshing in direct line with our own.” Rhiow twitched at the sound of that, for she thought she knew what he meant … and she didn’t like it. “Additionally, I think something’s been fretting at the gate from the other side while it’s been doing these ‘rogue’ openings … unraveling it. The unraveling’s been starting to manifest itself on this side now …” He put his whiskers back. “And I’m almost afraid to fix it. That might warn whoever’s doing the unraveling, send them under cover …”

  I’d wait and talk to Huff about it, Rhiow said silently to him. This is getting to be a jurisdictional matter, and I don’t want to … She glanced in Fhrio’s direction.

  Understood, Urruah said. But if something sudden happens, we’re going to have to intervene in the situation’s best interest, no matter what local opinion might be…

  Rhiow waved her tail in agreement, though the prospect made her nervous: Urruah went back to “reading” the gate, letting the information in the string configuration sing down through his claws and into his nerves and brain. “Auhlae,” Rhiow said aloud, “you managed enough rapport with him to get a name: could you get in there and find out more?”

  Auhlae shook herself. “Names are easy,” she said, somewhat distressed. “They’re so near the surface, in any sentient being. But abstract information is a lot harder to get at, out of species. You know how ehhif minds look and feel inside: the imagery’s all wrong, the language is bizarre and the mindset is stranger still … I’m no expert in ehhif psychologies: I’ll get lost in there as readily as anyone else. And anyway, I can’t do anything useful while our Mr… Illingworth’s unconscious. If he was conscious, I could go in, all right, but I couldn’t be sure I was getting the information absolutely correct. And if we’re hearing from this ehhif what I think we’re hearing—”

  “If you think you’re hearing evidence of an alternate timeline,” Urruah said, “then I think you’re right. Leaving aside all the other things he mentioned, most of which I don’t understand, I do know that London hasn’t been bombed recently … and it certainly was never bombed when ehhif wore clothes like that.”

  Rhiow suddenly became aware of Arhu looking over her shoulder, most intently, at Illingworth. “He’s the unravelling,” Arhu said softly. “Or a symptom of it: concrete rather than abstract. It’s not a process that’s finished yet. But if something’s not done soon …”

  “Hold that thought,” Rhiow said. “Don’t lose it, whatever you do.”

  “Oh, certainly,” Fhrio said suddenly, sounding very annoyed. “Encourage him. He’s been enough trouble already.”

  “Look,” Arhu said, turning, “I tried to tell you—”

  “No, you look.” Fhrio leaned close to Arhu and stared at him straight on: leaned over him stiff-necked and tall, the classic posture of the threatening tom. “You may think that you’ve done us a favor by causing this incursion, but who knows if it’s anything to do with the problems we’ve been having? All I see is that you’ve made a sweet mess of things. Don’t y
ou ever touch my gate again unless I specifically tell you to. You hear me? You come in here thinking you’re so vhai’d smart, and you tamper with things that you don’t—”

  Arhu was staring right back at Fhrio, and his ears were back: he hadn’t given an inch, and his lips were beginning to wrinkle away from his teeth. Urruah was looking on dispassionately. Oh, dear Dam around us, Rhiow thought, please don’t let Arhu—

  “Now what in the worlds,” said another voice down the tunnel. Heads turned. A moment later Huff jumped up onto the platform, and looked at the bizarre tableau before him: the half-sitting, frozen ehhif, Urruah once again up to his armpits in the hyperstrings of the gate, Siffha’h sitting on the power junction and washing nonchalantly, Auhlae and Rhiow looking on in bemusement and distress: and Fhrio and Arhu.

  Fhrio turned and glared at Huff, his ears still back. “Well, about time you got back here! While you’ve been off having one of your little catnaps, your precious imported vhai’d ‘senior gating team’ has—”

  “Fhrio,” said Huff. Fhrio subsided, and sat down, though his ears stayed flat.

  Huff sat down too. “For one thing, I was not having a catnap, much as I would have liked to be. I was off having a talk about this gate with Hni’hho.” Rhiow immediately recognized this as the name of the present Senior Wizard for Western Europe, an ehhif living just across the water in one of the low countries near the sea. “And for another, I think you may owe Rhiow and her team an apology. They were brought here to produce the results. They are apparently producing them—” and he flicked a glance over at the wretched unconscious ehhif—“whether you like them or not. We were specifically instructed to expect a ‘somewhat unorthodox technique’. Or weren’t you listening to Her?”

  “Oh, I heard Her, it’s just—”

  “It isn’t ‘just’. If you’re feeling obstructive, take it up with Herself … but you’ve got to resolve whatever conflicts you have about this work before you do anything further.”

  Fhrio turned away and began to wash. So did Arhu, with great intensity and at speed.