by Jack Heckel
Ariella was not to be put off. “So much to do that you haven’t even had time to unpack your clothes?”
“I’ve unpacked my . . .” I started to say, only to see that Harold had broken into one of the boxes and was rooting through it, flinging underwear and socks about the room.
“Harold! Stop that!”
It will come as no surprise to anyone that he ignored me. With a curse, I rose with the aim of strangling the annoying little imp (or at least preventing him from making more of a mess) when his clawed hand shot out of the box. It was clutching a copy of The Dark Lord!
I froze in place. The whispered expletive that followed perfectly summed up the confusion and fear I felt. I will leave it to your imagination to arrive at the exact arrangement of subject and predicate, but will offer that profanity is by far the most succinct and expressive part of the English language.
Sam took the book from Harold and began flipping through the pages. “What’s this?”
“Nothing,” I blurted, and made a grab for it.
It was too late.
“This . . . this is about you,” he said, and his face lit up with wonder. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion of anger I was sure would follow once he figured out what part of my life it was about. Instead, he looked up from his reading and, with his finger marking his place, shook the spine at me. “No wonder you’re famous. You know, if you hadn’t insisted on running us around like hens in a yard with one worm, you might have made a few coins today. The fellow that was selling those paintings said he’d give you a cut of his sales if you would sign a few. Can you imagine?”
Ariella snatched the book out of his hand and thrust it into her bag. “We don’t have time for this. Sam and I have other classes, and you have a lot of things to explain.”
I stared at her bag as though it were a snake, and murmured, “More than you know.”
“Well, answers to the questions we’ve already asked would be a nice start,” she retorted.
I sat down on a box. “Okay, ask away.”
Ariella and Sam looked back and forth between each other, trying to decide who should get to go first. Sam bowed to her.
She curtsied in return and asked the obvious question. “Why are you afraid that someone is after us?”
Before I could answer, Sam pointed at the dishwasher and asked a not-so-obvious question. “Is that part of your spellcasting equipment?”
It was like a tennis match. They volleyed questions at me, one after another. While Ariella was focused on why we were on the run, Sam was obsessed with Harold. The exchange went something like this:
“Who is chasing us?”
“Is that a real imp?”
“Is there anyone chasing us?”
“Do you want us to help him unpack your things?”
“Did you actually see anyone chasing us?”
“It looks like the key the Dark Queen and you were fighting over. Did you have a replica made?”
“I still don’t understand why the administration would go to so much trouble to get us.”
“We paid, I have a receipt.”
I had been swiveling my head back and forth between them, giving half answers where I had any answer at all, and it took me two extra swivels before I registered what Sam had aksed. When it finally reached the conscious part of my brain, I saw that Sam and Harold were wrestling over a reality key.
Griswald’s puzzle box lay open beside the imp, who was staring at it with an expression that was an indescribable mixture of resignation and disgust.
“What . . .” I stuttered in confusion.
“We paid our tuition several months ago,” Sam said as he tried to coax the key out of Harold’s grasp by clucking his tongue and wiggling his fingers.
“How . . .” I stammered, still unable to complete a thought or a sentence.
“Oh, they sent me a diagram of a circle Ariella and I could use to send them payments, along with a conversion of the tuition into weights of different metals.”
I stumbled toward them as Sam warmed to the subject. “It was very interesting; they couldn’t send the message by normal means, Trelari being cut off from Mysterium, so they sent it into the portal via bird. I got my message from an owl.”
“No,” I said, and pointed a shaking finger at the key.
“You don’t think it was an owl? I’m pretty certain it was an owl, but then again, I am weak on my bird knowledge. Will that be a problem? Should I study birds? Now that I think of it, since they couldn’t know where Ariella and I lived in Trelari, they must have sent a whole flock of birds to find us. I can’t imagine they were all owls. It wouldn’t make sense. Why not homing pigeons?” Then, thinking about his own question, he offered, “I mean, owls are known to be pretty lazy, so they don’t make natural messengers . . .”
Harold wheezed. “No, Sam, you daft idiot. He wants to know how we got the key out of the box.”
“Well, I didn’t do it, you did,” Sam whined back at the imp.
“So, you’re speaking to me again?” I asked Harold. “Why not in the woods? Why not tell me about this place?”
The imp gave a pitiable sigh. “It seemed simpler to show you. Besides, we don’t have much time, and I’m . . . I’m afraid you’re going to need this.”
He paused, that strange revulsion flashing briefly across his face, and then held the key out to me with a shaking paw. I brushed past Sam and took it, tracing my fingers reverently over its smooth surface. My first reaction was one of pure wonder. Griswald’s key was real, and I had it. But my initial joy was quickly replaced by puzzlement. There was something odd about the key. It had the same basic shape of other reality keys I’d used, but it had no teeth. It was as though someone had filed them off, and I could feel a deep thrumming coming from within it, almost as though it were alive. I looked into the imp’s filmy eyes. “What world is this to?”
He shrugged. “You have a knack of asking the most impossible questions without ever knowing they’re impossible.”
“Well, at least tell me how you got it out.”
He handed me the box. I could see it had an opening inside that had length, width, depth, and one additional dimension impossible to describe. That we live in five-dimensional space is obvious to anyone that has ever watched a valet park a regular-sized car in a compact space. This box merely took advantage of the extra dimensionality to obscure its contents. “Why didn’t I sense the magic before?” I muttered.
“Does it matter?” Harold asked.
It did, but the answer probably also explained why I couldn’t recall the last chapter of my book, or why I didn’t know I had a house in Mysterium. In other words, unknowable at the moment. With a grunt, I snapped the lid closed and thrust the box into my pocket. Some mysteries would have to wait. Besides, staring into extradimensional space without the proper protective eyewear was making me nauseous. I turned back to the imp. “How long have you known how to open it?” Harold said nothing, but his look said it all. “You’ve known from the beginning?”
“Of course,” he sighed.
“Well, why didn’t you say anything?”
“You never asked,” he said. “Besides, at this stage of your education, I should not have to explain L’Engle space-time fabric to you.”
It was a fair criticism. I had never been particularly strong at higher dimensional metaphysics. Lovecraftian multidimensionalism terrified me, and though I appreciated the travel benefits afforded by incorporating L’Engle wrinkles in my transport circles, I didn’t exactly understand them. When I was a novice, I stopped dating a girl because she lived in a dorm designed by an architect of the Heinleinian school. I would show up for a date, walk in the front door, and find myself leaving again through the back. It was intensely frustrating on many levels.
“Why now?” I fumed at Harold.
Perhaps it was my tone, or my stern countenance, or some danger that the answer held for us, but I saw a shadow of fear pass across his face followed by a
deep melancholy that settled behind his eyes. “You need it,” he answered. “To activate this.”
He shuffled across the floor and pushed aside a pile of boxes stacked against one of the walls to reveal an elaborate transport circle. The circle looked familiar. “Who?” I asked, but when the imp rolled his eyes I knew the answer. “Me?” He nodded sharply, and I asked, “Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Are we in danger here?”
He nodded again and darted his eyes ever so quickly toward the kitchen window. I did the same and saw a dozen men in crimson cloaks with deep cowled hoods emerge from the woods behind the house. Moregoth had found us.
I was still digesting this when Sam asked, “Has he been able to talk the whole time?”
In my shock, I had momentarily forgotten that Sam and Ariella were there, but Sam’s words, so similar to the ones I utter at the end of the book, broke my paralysis. I turned back to the two of them. “We have to get out of here—now!”
“Gods!” Sam wailed. “No more running.”
I said nothing, but pulled magical energy into the key until it glowed brightly with an ethereal green light. As I did, a series of teeth grew from the key’s surface. When I felt it had enough power, I pointed it at the circle on the wall. Power shot out of the key, and the circled portion of the wall shimmered and fell away. Within the opening we saw a nondescript hallway with a glass-paneled door at one end. Harold was through the gateway the instant it opened.
“Where are we going now?” Ariella asked irritably as she studied the construct of the spell.
I recognized the place at once. “The Subworld Observatory,” I said. “We need to talk to my friend Eldrin.”
“He’ll know what to do?” asked Ariella.
I took a quick glance out the window behind us. The Sealers were in the yard now, making their way through the weed-choked garden toward the door. “Definitely.” I pushed her and Sam through the gate.
I felt a buildup of power from outside and knew the mages were seconds from blasting their way in. I needed to go, but hesitated. I looked about at this house that was mine, but not mine, and at all the boxes of stuff I hadn’t noticed I’d been missing. There was some deeper truth to be had there. Some lesson about the transitory nature of physical things, but all I could think was what a shame it was that Eldrin and I hadn’t had a chance to throw at least one killer party here. With a wry smile at lost opportunities, I began to step through when my eye fell on the box with my Star Trek paraphernalia in it.
“To hell with that!” I shouted. I pocketed the key and grabbed the box as the front of the house shook with an explosion. A cloud of smoke and dust, and the sounds of shouting voices, followed me as I dove through the gateway and into the hallway of the observatory. As soon as I emerged on the other side I cut the flow of energy to the gate, and all went quiet.
Sam, Ariella, and Harold gathered around me. Harold tapped on the box. “And what was so important that you decided to risk your life for it?”
I chose to take the fifth, and said nothing. Obligingly, Sam read the label off the box. “It says there’s something called a comic book in there. Is that a kind of magic book?”
While Harold muttered curses, I rose to my feet and, with as much dignity as I could muster, said, “Yes, Sam. Yes, it is.”
Chapter 7
Eldrin!
Ignoring Harold, who continued to curse me and my descendants from the beginning of time, I dusted myself off and picked up my box. Head held high, I walked to the door at the end of the hall. A small brass nameplate on the wall read: dr. eldrin leightner—senior research scientist: astromancy, subworld physics, and sigilism.
“Sigilism?” Ariella asked. “I know a little bit about sigilism and also astromancy, though I’ve never heard of subworld physics. I was worried the university might not allow multiple majors. I’m glad to see they allow a reasonable level of intellectual exploration. I’ve made a rough plan of my class schedule for the next ten to twenty years and was going to take it to a counselor to talk it over, but do you think Eldrin would be willing to take a quick look?”
She rooted about in her bag and pulled out a scroll several feet long covered in densely packed script. What I wanted to say was, Twenty years! Are you mad? But I’m a professor, and I’d learned a certain level of professorial diplomacy. Instead, I said, “I’m not sure. He’s very busy.” I certainly didn’t want to commit Eldrin to a conference with Ariella about all the areas of study she might be interested in. It would take days.
“Is Eldrin an elf?” Ariella asked. “His name sounds elvish—very woody. Not like Avery.”
“Very tinny,” Harold agreed.
Sam said, “Aaavery,” and tilted his head to one side.
One after the other they repeated, “Aaavery.”
I glowered at them. “If you three are through . . .”
“She’s right, you know, you have a very tinny name,” Eldrin said, poking his head out of the doorway behind us. “Funny how I never noticed before. Anyway, could you come back later? I’m having lunch.” To emphasize the point he gestured at me with a sandwich wrapped in paper.
“Eldrin, we need to talk.” I pushed past him and his quizzically raised eyebrow. The others followed, and I closed the door and bolted it behind us.
Eldrin’s office was small, windowless, and lined by bookcases filled to bursting with a dizzying assortment of books and boxes and gadgets. A small orrery hung down from a vaulted ceiling that soared up to a height completely inappropriate for the size of the room. The oddness was understandable, because the office was located in one of the oldest buildings at Mysterium University. where wizards first saw the subworlds, as the inscription over the door proclaims. What I didn’t understand at first was his desk, which was covered by a green blanket. Dawn was sitting on it eating a handful of grapes out of a picnic basket. Her face was unusually flushed, and she was glaring at me.
She couldn’t possibly still be mad about this morning, I thought.
Neither she nor Eldrin said a word, but I couldn’t escape feeling there was a tension in the air. That, of course, was when I noticed other details. The litter of chess pieces, toy soldiers, and meeples scattered about on the floor as though they had been hastily swept aside. The artistic muss of Dawn’s typically librarian-neat hair. The fact that Eldrin’s shirt was unlaced to his navel (which was low even by his standards). I was slow, but not that slow. I blushed bright red, and said something like, “Ahhh . . .”
I began to back toward the door with the idea that it might be best to give them some privacy. Unfortunately, Harold had flown up to perch on the orrery. He folded his wings and appeared to be in no mood to move again. I waved my hand for him to come down, but he simply sighed and closed his eyes.
“We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?” Sam asked.
Eldrin began to say something, but Dawn interjected. “Don’t be silly. We were just having lunch.”
“Yes, lunch,” Eldrin said, trying to take a bite of his still-wrapped sandwich.
Sam, who had never known when to keep his mouth shut, blurted out, “Isn’t it a little early for lunch?”
When I thought it was impossible for the moment to get any more awkward, Ariella stepped forward, grasped Eldrin’s face in her hands, and kissed him on the lips. “I am Ariella. My heart sings to see thee.”
The silence that followed was so profoundly uncomfortable you could hear every one of the grapes Dawn had been holding hit the ground. At this point, I might have welcomed the Sealers, because the look Dawn gave Ariella was lethal.
Fortunately, Sam intervened. He held out his hand to Dawn. “I’m Sam. I’m in Avery’s class, but he took us out early because he thinks someone at the school is trying to kill us. How do you know him?”
“Nice to meet you, Sam, and your friend Ariella . . .” Dawn only slightly clenched her teeth.
“She’s also in Avery’s class,” Sam explained. “Today is our first day,
and . . .”
He chattered on about their morning adventures while Eldrin extricated himself from Ariella’s embrace. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. He looked rapidly back and forth between the two of them. A massive grin split his face. “Wait a minute! You’re the Sam and Ariella! You’re from Trelari!”
“The Sam and Ariella?” Dawn asked, and the murderous look vanished. “Oh, the Sam and Ariella! I’ve read all about you!” she exclaimed, and then added, “I certainly hope Avery has apologized to you for his behavior. It was objectively abominable, even for a Donaldsonian.”
I didn’t want to to give Dawn a chance to lecture. Both because she was very good at making me look bad, and because the presence of the blanket on the desk, and what it signified, was still making me extremely uncomfortable. I decided to get to the point. “The Administration is looking for Sam and Ariella, and I need to hide them until I know why.”
“Why not ask someone at Enrollment what they want?” Dawn suggested.
“Because they sent Moregoth and the Sealers to find them.”
Eldrin raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should tell us what happened?”
“Who is this Moregoth?” Ariella asked.
“Someone that should not be looking for you,” Eldrin said sternly. “How did you get admitted in the first place?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she protested.
“It’s just . . .” he said uncertainly, and waved his hands at her as though it should be obvious.
The two of them stood in silence until Dawn cleared her throat. Eldrin shook his head as though to clear it, and went to lean against one of the bookcases on the other side of the room. I noticed that his eyes kept wandering back over to Ariella and then snapping away, as though he had to focus to keep from looking at her.
“Right . . .” I began.
I explained things, including who Moregoth was. Ariella filled in the details I missed and corrected the parts I got wrong, which were unsurprisingly many and varied. When we were done, I asked, “What do you think?”