The Archimage's Fourth Daughter

by Lyndon Hardy

  She tried another smile. “It’s only for the summer. And the phone might not even ring. But the experience of what goes into writing a proposal might be useful.”

  “You mean like a grant application?” Fig asked. “And only for some handholding. Nothing with new technology?”

  “Well yes, that’s it. Look, the job is not like CERN. Do you want the work or not?” The words leapt from Ashley before she could stop them. Evidently, she could not keep her frustrations completely under control. She started over. “Let me rephrase that. I am curious. Why is a grad student, doing research with data from CERN of all places, applying for a summer internship at an engineering company, anyway?”

  Fig ignored the outburst. “A very fair question,” he said. “I do want to write my dissertation on the analysis of CERN data.” He adjusted his glasses. “At least I think I do.”

  Then his voice shifted a bit higher. The words came faster. “But, well, even though Wagonbrook is not as expensive as the bigger names like Harvard and Stanford, it still has tuition. And so far, I do not have any fellowship support. I am paying my own way.” He looked down at his belt buckle. “Actually, actually, yes, that’s it. Actually, I have run out of cash.”

  “Berkeley isn’t all that bad.”

  “I had… other interests in high school. My grades were only so-so.” Like a storyteller trying to regain the interest of a bored crowd, he rushed on. “In fact, I dropped out. The program I was working on to predict airline fares sucked up all of my time.”

  “Then, how did you get into Wagonbrook?”

  “Well, they aren’t exactly accredited yet.” Fig’s speaking pace slowed back to something more normal. “But they are working on it. Maybe by the time I finish, they will be.” His smile broadened as if he were sharing an in-group joke with a friend. “It’s a case of either water over the bridge or under the dam.”

  “Water over…” Ashley said. “Hmm. I see.”

  She had gone ahead with the interview despite everything else happening with her own trajectory. USX wouldn’t look good to cancel it before the guy even showed up. Besides, its best asset was the people it employed. In the long run, recruiting and hiring fresh talent would only help. Internships led to full-time jobs, and the company had a calibration on what they were getting.

  Otherwise, when a work force surge was needed, Robert and his mirror test would be bringing onboard total incompetents like that woman who kept trying to get in touch with her. A total pest. First, weeks of phone calls. Then repeated visits that had to be turned away at the guard station — each time with a different fantastic story.

  And this guy did not sound all that good of a match, either. She shouldn’t have set up the interview in the first place. If his heart was in basic physics, he wouldn’t want to stay with USX when the summer was over. And now because of the reorg, she wouldn’t have the funds for him to write the proposal anyway. She scribbled a note on the pad in front of her to compose the applicant specific paragraph that would go into the rejection letter.

  “I think the focus should be on making sure the lithium ion battery does not overheat,” Fig said suddenly. “If the gas is liquefied, it has to be kept cool enough, so the vapor pressure does not get too high.”

  Okay, maybe not totally a dim bulb, after all, Ashley thought. But in any case, she should let things proceed normally. If she did end up accepting the demotion, or quitting, or whatever, then the letter could be one of the last things she would need to do to tidy up.

  “Thank you for coming in,” she said. “Ah, there’s a lot going on here right now, but I’ll get back to you within… within two weeks.”

  Fig nodded and stood up. His face betrayed he thought he had failed.

  “In two weeks,” he said. “Right. Sure you will.”

  Experiment Results

  “CALIFORNIA,” DINTON mumbled. “Where had I heard that before?”

  He cleansed his mind, began the cadence of measured breathing, and like a beast searching for a scent, let his thoughts wander where they may. He did not speak any words of a charm. That was not the purpose of his meditation. This time, it was to retrieve a memory from years before. All of the nametags of the natives, of course, were unnatural and their memories not strongly held. But with practice and concentration, they could be retrieved.

  “My experiment!” he exclaimed after a short while. The one he had guided onto the path of discovering alchemy. Yes, he was the one. Dinton had forgotten entirely about him since he did not have a solid hook with which to select his mind from the thought stream as it coursed by.

  Like the soft whisper of a lover, the fragment suddenly revealed itself to him. …Tats…Melrose Avenue…California… Yes, that was what he had snatched away so many years ago. In addition, the gibberish Angus had recited when he was imprisoned repeated one of the words as well.

  “Ashley Anderfield. USX, Redondo Beach, California.” The words felt uncomfortable on his lips, but they would suffice. “Two minds with the same address,” he mused. “Of course, there is no way of knowing how large a place this ‘California’ was, but suppose, just suppose, it was small enough that his experiment and this new target were close enough together that…

  Dinton’s excitement broke him out of his meditation. Angus’ confession also contained a name — the name of an individual — a gaff he could use to latch onto the mind in the stream. Yes, a mind that could test the potency of the alchemy he had caused to be performed.

  Dinton paced his alcove waiting for the emotion to calm down. Despite the risk, he had to cast another charm — one more potent — one far easier to detect. He would need to practice his craft exactly — far more than a simple suggestion, one having some hint of compulsion that would make the target follow his command without questioning, without knowing why.

  After several hundred heartbeats, he was ready. He squinted his eyes nearly shut, crossed his legs and settled. This time, he did not struggle with whether or not to engage in sorcery. This time, he succumbed to the urge with a willingness that was surprising. Angus would practice a craft no more. Thaling was too timid to try. He was Dinton, the one who had the wisdom, the foresight to see what eventually would come. The oath did not apply to him. It was only right what he was about to do.

  Patiently, he sensed the minds streaming by, not bothered by how long it would take. Somehow, in a way he did not fully understand, there was a selection process performed by his own unconscious, pushing candidates into his awareness — ones the most likely to be the type he sought.

  After a little bit more than an hour of native time, he caught his prey. It was a woman rather than a man! Surprising, but no matter. The lore of both the Heretics and Faithful alike contained tales of prodigious feats by female warriors rivaling those of the males. This Ashley would be the vessel, the measure of the potency of the alchemy his initial enchantment had caused to become so.

  As he had done before, Dinton proceeded cautiously, not blasting his presence into the unsuspecting mind, but with a gentle touch pushing the thoughts and desires in the direction he wanted them to go.

  Curiosity. Yes, that was the feeling to strengthen. Emphasize curiosity as the mechanism for seeking out a relief from pent up distress. She should go… go to where she had never been before. … Tats… Melrose Avenue… California…

  Dinton finished the charm and broke out of his trance. He smiled with a satisfaction he had seldom felt in his struggles with his brothers. Now it was a simple matter of from time to time monitoring what this Ashley was up to — how close she was to partaking of what the native alchemist had to offer.

  Love Potion Number Nine

  ASHLEY LOOKED in the store window on Melrose Avenue. It was the kind of place she was looking for. She felt quite pleased. What had attracted her to it? Tucked into an alley in a funky part of town like a quaint out of the way magic shop.

  She really needed a change of pace. The five layoffs had taken her only a s
ingle day, but what a draining one it was. As she had registered the shocked expression of each engineer, her sense of failure grew. Were there any additional small projects with which she had not gotten in touch? Should she had been more aggressive when trying to shoulder her way into projects she had no business being involved? What else could she had done?

  And so, as she always did when the burden of keeping her business family fed with robust job numbers became too much, she took a day off. Went to a part of town totally new and unfamiliar. Without thinking, let her impulses of the moment guide her. Absorbing the atmosphere and clearing her head was the goal. She had to gather strength to think through how to tackle the real problem — how to prevent the reorganization at USX from taking place.

  The sign above the street windows proclaimed ‘Tats and Stuff,’ and the displays were aged with dust, probably not disturbed for years. A few sketches, yellow and curled with age, displayed simple designs that even Ashley knew were out of fashion. A scatter of small quartz and amethyst crystals fanned out on the display shelf next to what resembled a rack from a child’s chemistry set filled with more than a dozen vials of colored liquids.

  Ashley entered, and a small bell over the doorframe chimed. Immediately, she was struck by the strong smell. The odor of paint thinner, ether, vinegar, and ammonia competed for attention.

  “This isn’t a meth lab,” a voice croaked from the opening to a room in the rear.

  Ashley looked about. On the left, there was the standard tattoo chair with the small stool at its side, both covered in ebony Naugahyde, old and cracked with age. More sketches filled the wall behind. To the right was a long display case containing more crystals and vials. A flat, hinged panel blocked entry to the room beyond.

  “Wanna tat?” A stooped troll-like man limped out of the back and attempted what was meant to be a smile. Only two teeth remained in a cavernous mouth. Jaws sagged with skin rough and pocked. A few wisps of hair covered a scalp with five or six small oozing sores.

  Ashley took a step backwards, repulsed by the figure standing behind the counter. “Uh, no tattoo,” she said. “I am only look — ”

  “They all say that at first,” the little man said. “And call me Ziggy. The return customers do. Who recommended you?”

  “No one.” Ashley let a bit of the irritation of being interrupted show in her voice.

  “Right answer,” Ziggy said.

  “What. Why?”

  “I don’t sell to braggarts who can’t keep their mouths shut.”

  “As I was trying to say,” Ashley’s tone grew more unpleasant, “I’m only here to get a different perspective on a problem I am dealing with.”

  “No need for the back story,” Ziggy interrupted again. “I don’t really care. My potions work. They are worth the price. That is all there is to it.”

  “Potions?”

  “Yes, love potions.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ashley said. She could not believe the spiel she was getting.

  “I can prove it.” Ziggy pulled a small vial of clear liquid out of one of his pockets. Fumbling for a few moments in a drawer beneath the display of crystals, he produced an eyedropper. Then he pointed at the bottle poking out of Ashley’s purse.

  “I’ll add three drops to your water, and you take a few sips. Then we’ll see if it’s ‘yeah, right.’“

  “I will do no such thing,” Ashley said.

  “No physical harm to your body,” Ziggy said. “Watch me.” He opened the vial, filled the eyedropper, tilted back his head, and let three drops fall into his open mouth. He wiped his lips with his tongue and then burped.

  “The little bit of gas is the only side effect.” He looked at a small mirror on the wall behind him. And smiled at what he saw. “Ah, beautiful,” he said and then turned back to Ashley. “Now your turn.”

  Despite herself, Ashley was intrigued. She knew she should leave, but her purpose for this whole afternoon was to get into a different mindset.

  “I’ll give you a couple hundred bucks to do it,” Ziggy persisted. From another pocket, he produced two bills and slammed them down on the counter top.

  Ashley leaned forward to inspect the Benjamins. They looked real enough. They could cover the cable bill if nothing else. What the hell. She shrugged. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She moved quickly before she could change her mind, pulled the water bottle from her purse, unscrewed the cap, and thrust it forward.

  Ziggy added the drops, and Ashley swirled the bottle so they were diluted as much as possible. Then she took a cautious sip.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then change swept over her body. She began to tingle. A blush blossomed on her cheeks.

  “Should hit you right about now,” Ziggy said.

  Ashley looked at the little gnome, and arousal burst over her in all the right places like the first flowers of spring. He was handsome, virile beyond belief. How could she have not seen that before!

  Short, short and broad. Of course, the perfect body shape. No thin beanpole with ugly muscles bulging where the skin should be without ripples. And the head. What an astonishing head! Not completely bald but with interesting blemishes artfully placed. Lips full and sensuous, hiding a tongue probably long and sinuous and not blocked by useless teeth that would only get in the way.

  Without fully understanding what she was doing, Ashley dropped the bottle and her purse. Frantically, she began unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Slow down and wait a minute,” Ziggy held up his hand as if it were a teasing barrier to her advance. “With only three drops, the effect does not last long.”

  Ashley stared again at the Adonis before her and her eyes widened with delight. Why would blemishes be attractive? And the lopsided smile…

  She hesitated. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the passion washed away like the last wave of the lowest tide. Her thoughts were clear again. She had a problem to be solved. Douglas — she had to convince him to change his mind.

  The idea hit her at once. Moments ago, she had been willing to do anything the gnome asked — anything. Didn’t have to be only for sex, she reasoned. Would work as well on someone executing a reorganization — anything to please a woman he absolutely adored.

  “What is that stuff?”

  “Like I said, a love potion.”

  “How much?” Ashley surprised herself with her words.

  “A full vial is two hundred bucks.” Ziggy smiled. He reached to scoop up the bills still on the counter. “Looks like we could call it even.”

  “How do you make any money then?”

  “You will be back for more. Everyone always comes back. A month is not that long a time.”

  “For me, that will be enough,” Ashley said. “Give me the one you are holding. It will do.”

  “This vial will not work for you,” Ziggy shook his head. “It was concocted with my pheromones, not yours.”

  “My pheromones?”

  Ziggy sighed. “I have to tell the same story over again each and every time. Maybe I should get a handout or something.”

  Tattoos and Alchemy

  SHE SHOULD turn and leave, Ashley told herself. It was the rational thing to do. But the thought of Douglas, condescending Douglas, the bastard who would rip apart her department… The image was too painful to push aside. She would become the lab manager. She would promote the best engineer she had to take her place. Robert would go…

  “I can’t guess what you exude that is unique,” Ziggy’s voice cut through the roar of her thoughts. “Stick out your arm. I have to seal the mouth before the air inside cools too much.”

  Ashley felt herself drawn in to what Ziggy was doing. He had a Bunsen burner going in the midst of a circle of what looked like small brandy snifters. He cradled one bulb in his left hand and covered its opening with his right. She winced when the warm glass touched her arm. Not hot enough to burn, but startling nonetheless.

  “It will take a few minutes for the air to cool,” he said. “A
nd when it does, the partial vacuum will pull molecules defining your uniqueness away from your skin. I got the idea from the movie Zorba the Greek.”

  “Dispense with the mumbo jumbo,” Ashley said as she watched a mound of flesh rise into the interior of the bulb. “What I experienced was convincing enough.”

  “No mumbo jumbo involved.” Ziggy shook his head. “You know about pheromones, right? The airborne chemicals insects use to attract one another of the opposite sex. That’s what the medieval alchemists missed. They concentrated too much on the liquids and gasses producing fancy reactions — chemicals like ether, vinegar, and ammonia.”

  “Coincidentally, also used in a meth lab,” Ashley said. The last of what she had felt moments before was entirely gone.

  “Well, yeah, originally I did make meth in this place. It is the rest of what happened that is the coincidence.”

  Ziggy ignored Ashley for a moment. He twisted the goblet a quarter turn and released it from her arm. He put his hand back over the open mouth and rushed back into the room behind the counter.

  “See the latch on the counter top?” he called out. “The one holding the hinged panel to the display case.”

  “Why is it on my side?” Ashley looked at the mechanism, puzzled. “Shouldn’t it be on yours?”

  “For your protection when I do the test,” Ziggy answered. “Make sure it is closed so that I cannot fling it open. I’m too short to climb over the case. Just stand there while I mix in the rest of the ingredients while things are fresh.”

  “And then, poof, a love potion is born?”

  “No, not ‘then poof.’ The traditional alchemists messed up in a second way also. They tried to make a potion that would work for anyone. They have to be tailored to a single individual.”

  “Okay, you were lucky. Saw a movie, and then brewed together stuff you had on hand.”