The Magicians

by James Gunn

  “Children,” he said. “Children, we have work to do. And, Ariel, I must tell you, in all kindness, that you are growing quite careless about your spells."

  “My goodness,” Ariel said, sitting up and looking down at her dress—Mrs. Peabody's dress, that is. “This lavender and lace doesn't do a thing for me, either. You'll have to excuse me for a moment.” She leaped from my lap, jumped into the circle, and disappeared.

  Uriel and I stared blankly at each other. I shook my head. “Why didn't she just work a spell, the way she did when she changed into Mrs. Peabody?” I asked. Uriel looked puzzled. But I already knew the answer. Whoever heard of a woman deciding what to wear right on the spot?

  Ten minutes later she was back inside the circle in tan slacks and a knit top that did a great deal for her, but Uriel and I, under a gentleman's agreement, ignored her appearance and continued our discussion of the books he had noticed on the desk. He had already cleared up a number of my vaguer conceptions about the principles of magic.

  Ariel sat down on the edge of a chair, looking hopefully back and forth between us, like a little girl trying not to be heard but seen. At last she gave up. “I'm back,” she said.

  I turned to her. “Who was Gabriel?"

  She sighed heavily. I forced back a smile. “He was Father's protégé, a graduate student who had become virtually an adept. Uriel thought that Gabriel was almost as good as he was himself."

  “That's right,” Uriel said. “I can't understand—"

  “We were hoping that Gabriel could help us against Solomon,” Ariel continued. “And then he was killed in a traffic accident."

  “That was no accident,” I said, and I told them about La Voisin's mistake.

  “It was murder, then!” Ariel said angrily. “They're not only power-mad and vicious, they're capable of murder for profit."

  “Was Gabriel in love with you?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Ariel admitted. “But I didn't—I mean he was just a nice boy. There was nothing—"

  “That makes two murders, then,” I said. “Gabriel and your father."

  “If Prospero's death was murder,” Uriel said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn't realize anything was wrong until too late. He didn't tell me. He wouldn't talk about his health. But I can't believe that even Solomon would stoop to all the foul, disgusting nonsense involved in the Black Mass, the ruined church, the black Host, the water from the well in which an unbaptized infant has been drowned, and all the rest."

  “He has already made two attempts on Gabri—on his life,” Ariel said. “That black mirror was one and there was an enchanted towel that almost strangled him. And there were two dreams—"

  “Dreams?” Uriel repeated, sitting up straight.

  “A witches’ Sabbath and an Amatory Mass,” Ariel said, and told Uriel about the dreams.

  Uriel's agitation increased, and I began to feel more nervous about the experiences than I had felt when they were happening. “You mean they were real?” I asked.

  Uriel's pale hands fluttered in the air. “Real. Unreal. The terms cease to have meanings. In the world of magic everything has significance; everything stands for something else. Looks can injure and words can kill and dreams can be more dangerous than anything."

  “We have to be realistic about what we're facing,” Ariel said, getting up to pace in front of us. In spite of myself I couldn't keep a look of admiration out of my eyes at the way she fitted into those slacks and knit top. “The only thing Solomon cares about is power, and the only way he can be sure of that is to kill all of us."

  “Oh, dear,” Uriel said.

  “And I understand that you haven't been feeling well,” I said to Uriel while I massaged my throat reminiscently.

  “Nonsense,” Uriel said stoutly. “Never felt better in my life.” But he started coughing, and his cough had a hollow sound. I looked at him closely for perhaps the first time. Now I noticed that Uriel's rosy appearance of health was an illusion. His red cheeks were rouged. I looked at Ariel and found her looking at Uriel with the same concern.

  “Ariel said we had to be realistic,” I said quietly, “and if we're going to be realistic we're going to have to admit that our chances of succeeding against all of them are almost nonexistent. What if we should give up this impossible battle, check out of the hotel, go underground—” I stopped. Ariel and Uriel were looking at me with eyes that utterly lacked comprehension.

  “You don't mean that!” Ariel said.

  “You can't be serious!” Uriel said simultaneously.

  I lifted my shoulders and spread out my hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Realistically—” I began.

  “Realistically,” Ariel echoed. “I meant that we needed to cast aside any illusions about our opponent, not that we should use our difficult situation as an excuse for cowardice."

  “What you suggest,” Uriel said, “is impossible. It would leave the society to Solomon, to twist it any way he wished. They would all yield to his desires, and we would find ourselves living in a darker world than we had ever imagined."

  “He would never be satisfied to leave us alone,” Ariel added. “Before he did anything else he would use all the resources of the society to hunt us out, to do away with us."

  “Prospero and I thought of the Art as a way of making the world better,” Uriel said. “Of providing the energy and the capabilities of another world and another way of thinking to solving the problems that threaten to send humanity back into ignorance and savagery. But if Solomon gets full control of the powers he seeks, we will see ignorance and savagery triumphant. The evil that emerges as an aberration in a rational world will be unleashed. Demons and devils will roam at will across the world commanded by those who are strong enough and served by those who are weak. The darkest ages of human history will seem like arcadias compared to the world that Solomon would create. Satan would be triumphant."

  I stared at Uriel's eloquence. “I thought you didn't believe in demons and such superstitions."

  Uriel's manner immediately returned to the practical. “The term,” he said, “is a convenient fiction for the unseen, and until now unknowable, forces which permeate the universe and can be tapped and controlled by man's mind and will; just as ‘electrons’ are a convenient fiction to describe the mysterious but controllable energies of electricity."

  “We must stop Solomon now,” Ariel said, “while we still have a chance."

  I lifted my hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I'm convinced. What do we do first?"

  Ariel nodded briskly. “Let's get to work. Tell him about the clue, Gabri—"

  She stopped and stared at the expression on my face. Something had just occurred to me, and it showed. “You might as well call me Casey,” I said. “I just remembered. I signed the hotel register that way."

  They stared at me horrified.

  I shook my head remorsefully. “I'm afraid I'm a bust at this business. I'll never remember all the rules. I suppose they know your name,” I said to Uriel.

  “I'm afraid they do,” he said. “Since Professor Reeves and I founded the society, we had little opportunity for concealment. Many early members knew us personally, and our preliminary research reports attracted a little publicity. Anyone could have learned our names without much more than asking."

  “Professor Reeves was Prospero?” I asked. “Ariel's father?"

  “Yes,” Ariel said.

  “And what about you?” I asked, turning to the woman I loved. “Do they know your name?"

  “Yes,” she said, “but they don't know it."

  “Eh?” I said blankly. “Go through that once more. ‘They know it but they don't know it'?"

  She shook her head. “It isn't a good thing to talk about—even to think about."

  “But what is this name business?” I asked. “Does it have to be all your names, or just your first name or just your last name, or what?"

  “Your real name,” Uriel said, and when I looked puzzled he continued. “The n
ame that is you. In most cases, it is your Christian name, although in many primitive tribes all over the world the child is given a secret or sacred name which is known only to himself and his parents."

  I chuckled. They looked at me as if I had lost what little sense I had displayed up to now. “That's me. The child with the secret name. I'm not as bad off as we thought. ‘Casey’ isn't my real name. And I don't think anyone has used anything else since I was christened."

  “Thank God!” Ariel breathed.

  I took her hand and squeezed it.

  “You said you had a clue?” Uriel said quickly, perhaps hoping to head off another demonstration of affection.

  I fished out the ticket again. It was getting a little battered. “Maybe. I found this in the little room behind the stage in the Crystal Room. But I don't know what possible good it can—"

  But Uriel already had looked the ticket over carefully. Now he balanced it on his fingertips and muttered a few words. The ticket fluttered like a butterfly about to take off. “It fits,” Uriel said, looking up. “I'm certain Solomon held this ticket in his fingers at one time. And of course it's natural he should be from Washington."

  “Washington?” I echoed. “Why Washington?"

  “That's where the power is,” Ariel said. “And he is the most ambitious man I have ever known."

  “Sure,” I said, “where else could he manipulate events so easily and still hide among all the other manipulators? But he could be anyone from a public figure to a power behind the throne."

  Ariel's hopes plummeted.

  “That makes it difficult,” I said, “but not impossible. I've got an idea."

  I picked up the telephone, dialed the long-distance operator, and then asked for Jack Duncan at the Associated Press Washington newsroom. I turned to smile at Ariel. She and Uriel watched me hopefully but without understanding.

  “Jack?” I said finally. “Casey. Yeah, fine, fine. Well, it's a long story, and this is business. Yeah, important business. Tell me, who's gone from Washington?"

  “Oh, man, you've started drinking early in the morning,” Jack said sarcastically.

  “Come on, Jack. You know who I mean. Who important is gone right now?"

  “Everybody, boy. Nobody hangs around here over the weekend but us wage slaves."

  I was silent for a moment, frustrated, and then I thought of another way to approach the subject without telling Jack enough to convince him I was really drinking. “Answer me this, then: who is the luckiest man in Washington?” I could see by Ariel's face that she was onto what I was trying to do.

  Jack wasn't. “Me, boy,” he said. “I start on my vacation Monday."

  “Come on, Jack,” I repeated. “Who thinks you're important besides your wife?"

  “Listen to the man talk! That just shows how little you know my wife."

  “Think, Jack!” I said impatiently. “I'm not playing games. I really want to know. Who is the luckiest man in Washington?"

  “Don't you even tell me whether it's animal, vegetable, or—?"

  “Someone big. Someone you'd know about."

  “Lucky?” Jack said. “At cards, love, or horses?"

  “All of those, maybe, but especially in getting whatever he wants and wherever he wants to be. And that's maybe the top of the heap."

  “Well, well.” Jack was thinking now; I could hear wheels starting to spin. “'Tain't the Great White Father. The honeymoon is over, and he don't like it so good. The word is going around that he won't be running again. And as for the rest—hell, man!—there's only one boy that fits your description. Never seems to need money. All of his enemies have bad luck, but he comes up out of the cesspool smelling like attar itself. And in the last year or so all his intraparty rivals have died or retired with ill health or something—"

  “His name, Jack, his name.” I was excited now, and I could see Ariel and Uriel tensing.

  “You know it, boy.” His voice dropped. “Names are dangerous.” ("You're telling me!” I muttered.) “Get more people in trouble than any other thing. No telling who might be tapping this line. And I'm not superstitious or anything, but funny things have been happening to people who weren't careful about using this particular name."

  “Give me a clue, Jack!” I said eagerly. “I have to be sure.

  “America's biggest, bestest, one-man self-help organization,” Jack said softly. “Look in today's headlines or yesterday's or tomorrow's. You'll see his name, and never anything but the best things associated with it. There's no doubt about it. The party might not like it, and a lot of Americans might feel like leaving the country, but he's gonna sweep the convention unless somebody fixes his little red wagon. And he'll probably get elected, too. Now that's private stock, boy! Don't spread it around, or if you do don't let on where it came from."

  “Got it!” I said exultantly. “He's out of town now, isn't he?"

  “Him?” Jack hesitated. “Wait a second.” I could hear him yelling something indistinct over the teletype clatter to somebody across the room. “Sorry to disillusion you, sonny,” he said. “The great man was seen this morning taking a brisk walk around the block with his cat."

  “His cat?"

  “Yeah. He's got the biggest, meanest-looking Siamese you ever saw.” Jack sounded disappointed. “Sorry. For a moment there I thought you might be going to do the American people their greatest service."

  “Thanks, Jack,” I said dully. “Can't think of anybody else in his class, can you?"

  “There ain't nobody in his class, son. They're all dead or behind bars."

  “Okay, Jack,” I said. “Let me know if I can do anything for you."

  I lowered the phone gently into the cradle and turned slowly to Ariel and Uriel. I shrugged, trying to hide my disappointment. “I guess you heard. It was a thought, anyway."

  “Don't get discouraged so easy, son,” Uriel said, and his eyes were sparkling. “You've got him."

  “I guess you didn't hear after all,” I said. “He was seen in Washington this morning."

  “Yes?"

  I snapped my fingers. “Of course. He flew back to shake off any possible suspicion."

  “Could be,” Uriel said, “but I don't think so. Too risky switching back and forth. More chance somebody would spot him coming or going and ask questions."

  “Well, then,” I said, “he could just cast a spell—"

  “It's possible,” Uriel said, “but then why would he have an airline ticket? No, I have the feeling that the Magus doesn't trust himself to spells any more than he can help. There's always a smidgen of danger and sometimes there's little to be gained."

  “What then?” I asked helplessly.

  “A simulacrum,” Ariel said.

  Chapter 13

  We and the cosmos are one. The cosmos is a vast living body, of which we are still parts. The sun is a great heart whose tremors run through our smallest veins. The moon is a great gleaming nerve-centre from which we quiver forever. Who knows the power that Saturn has over us or Venus? But it is a vital power, rippling exquisitely through us all the time....

  Now all this is literally true, as men knew in the great past and as they will know again.

  - D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A simulacrum,” Ariel said again. “A duplicate. Well, not exactly a duplicate. It looks like the person and can do certain simple actions as instructed, but it can't act on its own initiative."

  Uriel nodded. “He could have left somebody in disguise, but there's nobody he can trust with his real identity. So he has to do it the hard way. He can assign a few minor jobs, but he has to do all the big things himself. That's his weak point. That and his lust for power."

  “And overconfidence,” I said, thinking back.

  “Maybe,” Uriel said.

  “Then we've got him!” I said.

  Uriel gave me a reproving glance. “We have some evidence, but we can't proceed on this kind of guesswork. We must have proof. It
still might be the wrong man."

  “What loss?” I said, and shrugged.

  “Casey!” Ariel said.

  “What do you expect him to do?” I asked disgustedly. “Come up here and present his birth certificate? For magicians and witches, it seems to me that you two are awfully particular. But don't mind me. I'm just a novice at this thing."

  “You don't understand,” Ariel said firmly.

  “The greater the power, my son,” Uriel said, “the greater the responsibility."

  “That ain't the way I heard it,” I said. “The greater the power, the greater the corruption."

  Ariel turned her back on me. I could see from the set of it that I had gone too far.

  “Look,” I said. “I'm sorry if what I said offended you. But after we've got a lead like this, the first break in the case, and you aren't going to make use of it—” I took hold of Ariel's shoulders and tried to turn her around, but she seemed to be made of stone. “Ariel,” I said softly. “I'm sorry. I'll go along with whatever you say.” I reflected ruefully, as I said it, that she needed no magic to control me.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Well-l-l,” she said and turned around to face us.

  “You've been jumping to conclusions again,” Uriel said patiently. “We aren't going to throw this away. There're some things we can do without endangering any possibly innocent third party. This, for instance."

  He rubbed out the circle I had drawn on the rug and chalked in another one. He started inscribing equations around it. After a moment he hesitated and rubbed his forehead. “My memory isn't as good as it used to be,” he said apologetically. “I wish I had that book. Must have lost it somewhere."

  I bent down and lifted the corner of the rug and pulled out his manuscript. “This?” I said.

  “Yes, yes,” he said happily. “Dear me, yes. You are a help. Where did you find it? Never mind."

  He returned to his task, consulting the manuscript occasionally. When he was finished, the rug was almost covered with chalk marks. “There!” he said triumphantly, getting creakily up off his knees.