The Price of Magic
Page 22
“Luncheon for two,” said Peter.
With a quick nod, the reptilian headed back toward the rear of the restaurant.
“I don’t suppose a rich and powerful wizard such as yourself patronizes as common an establishment as this,” she said.
“As a matter of fact, I ate here when I first visited Port Dechantagne as a boy.”
“I didn’t know you had been here before.”
“Yes, for a few weeks. I was only twelve at the time.”
“I wish I had known you then. I’ll bet you were a cute boy.”
“The less said about that, the better,” he said.
The lizzie waiter returned and wordlessly set out two plates, each was filled with a mound of chips, some sliced radishes, and a bulging pastry shell.
“Oi, it’s a pasty,” said Peter. “I haven’t had one since I left Brech.”
“Mum always calls them tiddy oggins,” said Abigail.
The young wizard took his knife and cut the pasty across the middle allowing a small cloud of steam to escape. The pastry shell was filled with onions and turnips and meat—no doubt some kind of dinosaur.
“You can make them then?”
“Oh sure,” she said.
“I’m finding myself more and more pleased with the idea of marriage.” He took a bite. “I’m hoping yours are better than this.”
She took a bite and looked thoughtful.
“It’s not a bad bit of baking, mind, but I never cared for velociraptor.”
“Well, the chips are good anyway.” He rested his chin on his hand. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“After I drop you home, I’m off to a dress fitting.” Abby smiled and batted her eyelashes. “It’s for a very important dress.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m very much afraid you’ll have to.” She looked up as a bank of clouds rolled in, obscuring the sun. “Tell me how you see us in a year or two, no, say five years from now.”
“I see us in a lovely house with a smart well-cultivated garden, a new steam carriage in the motor shed, and you and I sitting, watching our children play. There will be three of them: two boys and a little girl, who’ll have me wrapped around her finger, like Sen has Baxter, only more so, since she’ll be mine.”
Abby looked at him with wide eyes.
“You didn’t know?”
“I heard it from Gabby, but it seems so strange that a man could so dote on a child that wasn’t his. I guess I just didn’t believe it.”
“How about more tea?” Peter asked an approaching lizzie, but he realized it wasn’t a waiter when the creature shoved a small slip of paper into his hand.
“I wonder how they found me?” He looked at the four words written on the paper at first struggling to understand them: Bell at building power. For half a second, he thought it might mean that the wizard was at the gas company or the coal depot, but he quickly disposed of that idea. The building of power could only be one place. It was the warehouse in which the Result Mechanism had been stored.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he said, getting up.
“Is it your work for Senta?”
He nodded.
“Then be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, dropping several banknotes on the table. “You just be careful driving home. It might rain.”
She blew him a kiss and he jogged out of the dining establishment and down to the trolley stop just in time to step aboard the vehicle as it started into motion. The conductor gave him a surly look, but Peter just smiled and dropped a pfennig in the box.
The trolley made its way north until it turned and passed through Town Square. Peter could have transferred to another trolley for the trip out onto the peninsula, but he was already chafing from the relatively slow speed. When the triceratops that was pulling the car came to a stop, to feast on its allotment of tasty greens, he hopped off and jogged through the gate in the emergency wall that separated the oldest part of Port Dechantagne, the peninsula, from the rest of the city. He reached the large machine shed that had for years held the great steam-powered computer, pausing beneath a tree just outside to catch his breath. He looked around, seeing neither Bell nor the lizzies hired to watch him, nor anyone else.
Once he had control of his breathing, the young wizard crept toward the building’s door. Just as he reached it, the first icy drizzles of rain began to fall on him. It made a peculiar snare drum sound on the sheet metal of the slanted roof. With exaggerated caution, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The large building was mostly empty now that the great machine had been removed. A row of windows along the edge of the roof provided the only illumination, which flickered from dark to darker as the rate of the rain increased. Here and there, pipes poked up, skeleton-like, from the floor. Empty coal bins sat along the north wall, and bits of coal were scattered all across the floor. Along the far wall was a set of workbenches, and a loud grunt drew Peter’s attention immediately to it. A figure was hunched over the bench, something protruding from its back. As the young wizard crept across the room, the figure reached over its shoulder and yanked whatever it was on its back, pulling it off. Peter moved quietly closer. When he was about halfway across the room, he stopped.
“What are you doing here, Bell?”
A flash of lighting illuminated the room for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Peter to make out a naked woman before him.
“I’m not Bell. Let’s put some light on things, shall we?” said the woman. “Uuthanum.”
A lantern on the workbench came to life, bathing her in a warm yellow glow. Her skin, which had looked blue grey beneath the harshness of the lightning, was warm and tan. But it was smeared with blood. On the workbench beside her was a large wing, covered with once-white and now blood-stained feathers. Another wing lay at her feet. And protruding from her back were jagged bones where those feathered wings had once connected.
“Kafira, you’ve ripped off your own wings!”
“Oh, Kafira has nothing to do with me,” she said.
“Pantagria.” The name fell from Peter’s mouth as a whisper.
“You know me. Strange how I don’t know you.”
“You can do magic?”
“You get in the heads of a few thousand wizards and you’re bound to learn a thing or two. I’m afraid that’s the extent of my power though… at least of that sort. Kill him.”
Peter saw from the corner of his eye, Wizard Bell step out of the shadows, raise his arm and begin an incantation.
“Uuthanum uluchaiia uluthiuth!”
“Prestus Uuthanum,” said Peter quickly, throwing up a shield before Bell’s fireball could engulf him. Even before the fire faded, he launched his own attack. “Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia!” A bolt of lighting shot from his fingers and hit the police wizard, throwing him across the room. He landed in a heap, unconscious.
“Now, to deal with you, monster,” said Peter, turning back to Pantagria.
Suddenly there was a loud report and the young wizard felt himself jerked back. A burning sensation filled his lungs. Reaching down, he found his waistcoat slick with blood. He staggered and collapsed on the cement floor. Then he saw a tall, thin boy of about seventeen, with a large revolver in his hand. He had seen the boy before.
“I know you.”
“We’ve met.” The boy took three steps to stand over him. “Philo Mostow.”
Peter wanted to climb back to his feet, but his body wouldn’t follow his commands. He couldn’t even lift up his arms. He could barely move his hand enough to draw out a magic sigil on the floor beside him. Pantagria knelt at his side. He wondered at her lack of concern over her own nakedness.
“Don’t worry,” she said, pressing her hand down over his mouth and nose. “It will all be over soon.”
Peter struggled, but couldn’t stop her, as she smothered away his last breath.
* * * * *
Senta
rode along on the back of the great beast, the columns of her army moving along in front and behind, and on either side of her. The fact that the great beast was as immaterial as the army didn’t bother her at all. Pulling out an enormous book, she placed the palm of her hand against the cover.
“I know I’ve read it in here before. There’s something about subduing a dragon. Uuthanum.”
She opened the book and read.
Early in the seventh century in central Sumir, an unholy order known as the Sisterhood of Pain dominated the Borazonians. They turned their backs on the Kristos and worshipped the bloody dragon Voindrazius. The order consisted of two parts: the white sisters, a group of female warriors who cut out their own tongues; and the dark sisters, magic wielders who gouged out their own eyes, but gained supernatural perception, in addition to the powerful spells, from their ungodly lord.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Senta snarled, slamming the book shut. “Who cares what a bunch a lunatics did a thousand years ago? One more time: subduing a dragon. Uuthanum.” She opened the book once again and read.
The ancient people called the Dricondans, some time before the Olgon conquered them, developed a method of rendering the wyrm compliant. It was long believed that this method had been lost to time, but it was resurrected in the late 1880s by the Great Wizard Bassington, who used it to hunt down the remaining dragons and end their scourge forever.
“Oh, well done, Dad,” thought Senta.
The precise method is known only to a few, but it includes attacking the dragons with numerous despoliations of their natural magic, thereby bypassing their defenses.
“Kafira damn it!” shouted Senta, dropping the book and grasping her head as an intense pain suddenly shot through it. “What the hell?”
As suddenly as the pain appeared, it was pushed to the back of her mind as she heard heavy wing beats overhead. Bessemer, the steel dragon, dropped to a landing just in front of her. The great beast she was riding, of necessity, came to a sudden stop.
“Well, it’s about time!” she said.
“This is quite a display,” he said, waving a hand toward the magical army. “Who are you trying to impress?”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone. Some strange lizzies from Xiatooq kidnapped Zoey, from your home I might add, and I’m going to get her back. Now I need you to fly ahead and find her.”
“I’m sorry I can’t. You’ll have to take care of it.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Senta climbed to her feet and stood with her fists on her hips.
“There’s trouble in the north. My people need me.”
“Your people? Your people? I’m your people, you twonk!”
“I’ve really got to go,” said the dragon. “I’m sure you can handle it.”
Then he shot up into the sky and flew to the north so quickly that he was gone from sight before Senta could utter another word.
Chapter Seventeen: Pest of the Sunrise
Iolana stopped shoveling, and placing the tip of her shovel on the seam of the metal floor, she used it to prop herself up. Her blond hair was plastered to her head and her clothes were soaked through with perspiration. It was at least 130 degrees in the engine room, closer near the open furnace door, and she had been shoveling coal for what seemed like forever.
“Keep shovelin’,” said her companion, as he threw another scoop into the furnace, the flame reflecting on the smooth sheen of his sweaty, shirtless body.
She imagined that it would feel so good to shed the khaki uniform blouse. It would certainly give the crew of the crawler a shock. She really wanted to do it. But she just couldn’t.
“I’m all talk,” she said to herself.
“No time to talk. Just shovel.”
“How’s it going, men?” called Tiber Stephenson’s voice from the engine room hatch. “Nice and warm in here, eh?”
“You’ve proven your point, Tiber,” said Iolana, staggering as she scooped more coal.
“That’s Lieutenant to the likes o’ you!” shouted the shirtless soldier.
“I’m not having you shovel coal to prove a point, My Lady,” said Tiber. “I’m having you shovel coal because that’s what makes this vehicle go.” He looked at the shirtless soldier. “How long till shift end, Swaim?”
“About forty more minutes, Sir.”
“Good. When your relief comes, bring our little stowaway up to the officers’ quarters.”
“Right you are, Sir.”
Though she managed to finish out her shift in the engine room and then march along behind Swaim to the front of the vehicle, when he left her just inside the door to the officers’ quarters, Iolana’s vision began to swim and she collapsed. If Tiber hadn’t been there, she would have fallen to the sheet metal floor. Instead, he caught her and carried her over to an empty bunk, laying her down. Then he opened a vent and cool, moist air from outside blew gently across her face.
“You look a little warm, My Lady.”
“Bugger yourself,” she said.
“Now that language is certainly not very ladylike.”
“I’m not a lady. I’m a grunt who works in the engine room.”
“Well, relax grunt, and when you’re ready, I’ll get you something to eat.”
Iolana was asleep before he finished his sentence. She didn’t know how long she slept, but when she woke, the sheet metal floor and everything that touched it was still throbbing with the energy of the steam engine. The buzzing of the saws still echoed through the metal walls. She slowly sat up; her arms and back crying out in anguish. She didn’t think she had ever done so much physical labor in her whole life. When she stood up, her legs, if anything, hurt even worse than her upper body. She moved like an old lady across the room and out the door. She turned and walked up the sloping passage toward the front of the crawler, her hand against the wall. She hadn’t gone very far when she saw Tiber walking toward her.
“I was just coming to check on you,” he said.
“How long was I asleep?”
“About fourteen hours. I was starting to get worried.”
“You mean I slept through our stopping for the night?” she asked.
“No. We haven’t stopped and we won’t. We have a crew of twenty-two officers and men so that we can run twenty-four hours a day.”
“What about the relief column that’s with us? The men can’t march all night.”
“Oh, they’re not traveling with us. They merely left at the same time. I imagine they’re forty miles ahead of us by now.” He took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and marched her back to the officer’s quarters. “They stop for the night, but then they move much faster than we do. We’ve only gone about forty-five miles from the city’s edge.”
“Forty-five miles?” wondered Iolana. “Then, when you found me, we couldn’t have been more than a long walk from town. You could easily have turned back, or even made me walk back myself.”
“You didn’t want to go back, did you?”
“No, of course I didn’t. Though now I’m wondering about your motivation.”
“Please, My Lady,” said Tiber. “I’m a gentleman, one little kiss notwithstanding. Now sit down. I have something for you to eat.”
Iolana took a seat in one of the two metal chairs that faced a small metal table between the two bunks. The young lieutenant hefted a canvas rucksack from cubby and dropped it heavily on the table.
“Well, you have a choice: beef stew, corned beef, or pork and beans. Take my advice and skip the stew. Heated up, it’s barely edible. You’re eating your food cold, and in such a case, it’s plain disgusting.”
“Pork and beans, please.”
“Here you go.” He handed her the tin can. While she peeled off the key and began opening the can, he continued. “You also have a block of cheese and a box of crackers. You might want to skip the crackers. You can crack a tooth if you don’t soak them in water or tea.”
Iolana dug into the beans with a flat wooden spoon, a
lso included in the kit. She recognized that the pork was nothing but a square bit of fat, but she was so hungry that it tasted wonderful. While she ate, Tiber poured water from a canteen into a folding cup and used the edge of his knife to grate off bits from a block of condensed tea into it. Then he unfolded a small packet of sugar and poured it in.
“Here you go.”
After finishing the beans, Iolana ate the small block of cheese, but ignored the crackers. She sat back and looked at the young man while she sipped her tea.
“Still hungry?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Stepping over to the bunk across from the one on which she had slept, he reached beneath it and withdrew a small box.
“I bet you have enough room for some Teddy Sweet Men,” he said, waving the box.
“Give me, give me!” growled Iolana, surprising them both.
The little biscuits, shaped like Brech soldiers were delicious, with just the right amount of crunch. The girl forced herself to stop when half of them were gone, handing the box back to Tiber. She washed them down with the last of her tea.
“When do I have to go back on duty in the engine room?” she asked.
He laughed.
“Lady Iolana, you don’t really think I’m going to make you work in the engine room the whole trip, do you? I just wanted you to get the full experience of going to war.”
“I think you’re a horrible person,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he replied, pulling out his watch and checking it. “Lieutenant Ackle goes off duty in thirty minutes and he’s going to want his bunk. So you have until then to clean up. I can’t offer you a bathtub, but I can give you a pale of water and a sponge.”
Iolana reached up and ran a hand through her hair. It was hard, sticky, and grotesque.
“All right.”
“That door is the head. That’s what we call the privy. I’ll be right back.”