by Scott Meyer
Eddie calmed down, but only enough to look like he wanted to kill Jimmy slowly and methodically, instead of in a blood frenzy. He turned to Jimmy and asked, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jimmy knew this would be a tough one. Eddie had been his right-hand man for years, obeying Jimmy’s every order and hanging on his every word in the belief that they were a team and had no secrets from each other. When Jimmy’s secrets were discovered, Eddie was as surprised as anyone, and when Jimmy then attempted to kill all of the other wizards, Eddie included, he had been more surprised than anyone.
What emotions am I trying to convey? Jimmy asked himself. Regret. Happiness to see my old friend, mixed with sadness that he doesn’t want to see me. Resignation and acceptance, certainly. Contrition and affection in equal measures. It was a tall order, but Jimmy had an idea.
Jimmy projected sadness with his eyes, spread his hands to signal surrender, and in a quiet voice, said, “Dude.”
“Don’t you dude me! Don’t you ever dude me!” Eddie shrieked. “Do you understand?! Do you?!”
Jimmy nodded, and raised his hands above his head.
“What do you want?” Eddie bellowed, then looked back to Gary. “What does he want?”
Gary looked back to Jimmy. Jimmy shrugged. Gary looked Eddie in the eye and said, “He wants you to give him shell access.”
Eddie belted out a wail of pure anger, and hauled his staff back as if he had given up on using magic on Jimmy and instead intended to bludgeon him.
Gary again threw himself between Eddie and Jimmy, shouting, “Dude!”
30.
Martin walked sullenly through the streets of Atlantis.
He had decided to call them streets even though there were no cars or wheeled vehicles. There were some pushcarts and the occasional wheelbarrow, but unless someone was riding in them, he couldn’t call them vehicles. By the same token, he didn’t think he could justify calling them streets without wheeled vehicles, but he decided to let that one go. Walking sullenly through the pedestrian footpaths of Atlantis just didn’t set the right tone.
Of course, he could have just teleported back to his hotel room and avoided the whole problem, but teleporting, like driving a car, is best suited to situations where you’re either traveling a long distance in a hurry or trying to impress people. For short distances, walking is still preferred by most wizards because it gives you time to talk if you’re with someone and time to think if you’re not. Walking can be very pleasant. Moving slowly through an environment gives you the opportunity to really see it. Besides, teleporting around everywhere gives one’s life a frantic, disjointed feeling, and doesn’t help one’s cardiovascular health either.
Also, it’s impossible to teleport sullenly. It’s over too quickly, and nobody witnesses it. If you want to travel sullenly, you pretty much have to walk, and given Martin’s mood, if he was going to do anything he was going to do it sullenly.
Martin heard someone shout his name. Martin turned, and said, “Hi, Vikram,” sullenly.
Vikram was a fakir from one of the Indian delegations. When they’d first been introduced at the big meet-and-greet on day one, Vikram had worn ostentatious robes and a cartoonish large, bejeweled turban, but since then he had worn his usual daily uniform, a simple loose-fitting orange robe.
Vikram ran to catch up to Martin, then said, “Look, Martin, I just want to apologize. I feel terrible that I didn’t do anything to help today.”
Martin started walking again. Vikram kept pace.
“Don’t worry about it, Vikram. There were a lot of people there who didn’t help. Heck, if you look at the results, I didn’t really help, did I?”
“At least you did something, and please, call me Vic. Most of us just stood there and watched.”
“It’s understandable. You were all in shock.”
“It’s no excuse,” Vikram spat.
They both walked sullenly for a moment, then Vikram asked, “Any idea who’s behind it?”
“Well, we’ve ruled some people out.”
“Who?”
Martin chuckled mirthlessly, and said, “Pretty much any suspect we had.”
After another long silence, Vikram said, “We all should have been helping you. There are so many of us. Whoever did this, they were smart to make today’s attack so chaotic. It kept us from acting until it was too late.”
Martin shook his head. “Really, Vic? I don’t think so. I mean, really, Phillip and I created most of the chaos ourselves. All the attacker did was drop another statue and throw some more arrows. Sure, he added some ropes and tar, but really, it’s just a slight variation on all the stuff they’d done before that didn’t work. It was an act of stubbornness, not intelligence.”
Vic nodded. “Sadly, I find that stubbornness often beats intelligence eventually. Stubbornness will beat anything eventually. That’s the whole point of stubbornness.”
Martin didn’t like that idea. He agreed with it, but he did not like it.
“Look,” Vikram said, “none of us really took any of this seriously before today. Logic seemed to dictate that Brit the Younger couldn’t be killed, so we didn’t think the Brits were in any real danger.”
Neither did I, Martin thought.
“But now we are taking this seriously,” Vikram continued, “and we feel like jerks.”
So do I, Martin thought.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. I’m sure that goes for all of the other delegates. We want to help. We just don’t know how.”
Neither do I, Martin thought.
With that, Vikram said goodbye and Martin continued his sullen trek back to the room he had been sharing with Phillip.
When he reached the door, Ampyx was waiting.
“What do you want?” Martin asked, then immediately waved his hand to stop any forthcoming answer. “Never mind. Don’t say it. I know what you want. Go for it. I hope you have better luck than I did.”
Martin opened his door and went into his room. He didn’t close the door behind himself, so Ampyx followed him in. Martin slumped down in a chair and looked at Ampyx, clearly irritated and confused. “What? I told you, she’s all yours. Just take my advice, don’t try to get anywhere with Gwen by acting like me, because I can tell you, it doesn’t work.”
Ampyx shook his head and stepped to the center of the room as if he were about to recite the Gettysburg address. “Martin,” he said, in stilted tones, “I have come here to say something to you.”
Martin’s irritation faded, clearly being pushed out of his brain by his increased confusion.
Ampyx said, “I have watched you closely since you’ve arrived. I have discussed you with your friend, Phillip. I have observed you interacting with the sorceress, Gwen. I have witnessed your attempts to prevent harm from coming to Brit the Younger.”
Oh great, Martin thought. Just what I need, criticism from a walking pituitary gland.
Martin opened his mouth to interrupt, but before he could, Ampyx said, “And I’ve come here today to tell you that you have earned my respect.”
Martin squinted and said, “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
“Do not gloat about it, Martin. This is hard enough for me as it is.”
“I’m not gloating. I just . . . I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“It is true. Martin, you are a man of action. You intervene, while others stand and watch. Then, by the time they take action, you are already several steps ahead. You are often out of step with those around you, but that doesn’t mean that they’re on the correct foot.”
“Thank you, Ampyx,” Martin said. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
“That does not surprise me. My biggest criticism of you is in your choice of friends. Phillip doesn’t respect you as much as he should.”
“Well, in Phillip’s defense, he was my teacher. In a lot of ways he still sees me as a student.”
Ampyx sat on the chair opposite Martin. “No. You still look at yourself as a student, and it keeps you from seeing yourself or him clearly.”
“Look,” Martin said, “Phillip might be dead, at any rate he’s missing and in trouble. I appreciate what you’re saying, but now’s not the time.”
“No, now is not the time for honesty? When is? I was at the summit today, guarding one of the balconies. I saw what happened. You acted, while the other wizards and sorceresses stood there like sheep.”
“Ampyx, that’s not fair.”
“True. Sheep are useful.”
Martin said, “Phillip helped. Heck, he got to Brit first.”
“Yes, and what did he do? He held on to her, and he yelled. You used your magic. You attempted to anchor your legs to pillars, tables, even the wall. And nobody else thought to come to your aid until failure was practically a forgone conclusion.”
“Thanks, but I think you’re giving me too much credit. None of that did any good.”
“I give you credit for trying and failing. It’s not much credit, but it’s still more credit than most of your peers deserve.”
Martin asked, “Well, why didn’t you and the other guards help?”
“We don’t get involved in issues regarding magic. What if I had tried to push Brit the Younger out of the path of a falling statue? I’d have been crushed and she wouldn’t have gotten hurt either way. What if I’d thrown myself between her and the arrows? I get impaled, she is unhurt either way. We guards are there to keep angry citizens from troubling the sorceresses, but in truth, we are largely ornamental. Most of us do the job in hopes of catching a sorceress’s eye. Otherwise, we’d probably wear something more substantial.”
Martin tried to imagine fighting while wearing a mesh t-shirt and a kilt, and decided that Ampyx had a point.
“You do things, Martin. Not smart things, but still, things. While Phillip criticizes and Gwen hides, you do things.”
“What do you mean, Gwen hides?” Martin asked.
“I’ve only been watching you for a short time and it’s obvious to me that Gwen is yours. You are the only man she is interested in, and everyone else can see it. Yet she refuses to show you. She hides from you, and from her feelings. You know it is true, Martin. That is why she frustrates you so.”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Ampyx asked, “Martin, how many women have you wanted in your life?”
Martin answered, “Many.”
Ampyx asked, “How many of those women have wanted you in return?”
Martin answered, “Not many.”
“And how did you respond to their lack of interest?”
“I dunno. I guess I got the hint and left them alone.”
“Yes. But you haven’t given up, even after she left and moved far away. Even after all the times she’s rebuffed your advances. Even now, when you claim to have let her go, you still hold out hope. It’s because some part of you, some part that sees things clearly, some part that isn’t your brain, knows that she is hiding. She hides. It is her nature.”
Martin frowned. He didn’t like being psychoanalyzed. He especially didn’t like being psychoanalyzed accurately. Is it true? Martin asked himself. No. She’s very outgoing. Everybody in Leadchurch liked her. She ran that shop, where she spent ten years pretending to be a tailor, hiding the fact that she was a wizard.
“Okay, Ampyx, say you’re right.”
“I am right.”
“I didn’t mean that literally.”
“I do.”
“Whatever. So what? How does any of this help me now? Phillip and Brit are gone and Gwen is still hiding.”
“And you are sitting here in your room, doing nothing.”
Martin asked, “What should I do?”
“Something.”
“I can’t just go out and start doing crap at random. I need a plan.”
“Who has been coming up with the plans so far?”
Martin thought back to the time right after what he’d started referring to as “The Big Squid Implosion.” Martin felt a stab of embarrassment when he recalled having suggested that Ida, the president, was behind it, and having to have it explained that nobody as smart as her would do something so stupid. Martin had instantly seen that they were right, and handed over the strategy to them. Martin said, “Brit and Phillip and Gwen made the plans.”
“Why them?” Ampyx asked.
“Because, if I’m being honest, they’re smarter than I am.”
“Are they smarter, or do they just know more?”
Martin asked, “Is there a difference?”
“Yes, a big one. Even I know that. Martin, you say they made the plan. Was that plan to simply let the murderer keep trying over and over again, until they either gave up or got it right?”
“Well, that’s not how they put it,” Martin mumbled. “Besides, this last time the idea was to use our powers to identify who did it.”
“Did that work?”
“No.”
“And you’re certain that they are smart?”
“Yes, look, you’re right. You have a point. I am usually the one who acts first, and Gwen and Phillip tend to do a lot more standing around talking than I like, but I make a lot of mistakes. More mistakes than they do.”
“Because you try more things than they do.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing. There’s something to be said for planning and strategizing, and they are smart people. It’s just their plan this time that turned out to be stupid. Smart people do dumb things some times.”
Ampyx stood silently, thinking about this.
“Smart people do dumb things,” Martin repeated.
They sat in silence. Martin’s eyes got wide. He looked at Ampyx, then stood up urgently. Ampyx stood as well, alarmed that Martin seemed alarmed. Martin looked around the room, opening and closing his mouth as if silently arguing with himself. Ampyx asked, “What’s wrong?”
Martin looked up at Ampyx and said, “Smart people do dumb things!”
“Dumb things like repeating themselves?” Ampyx asked.
31.
It isn’t possible to teleport sullenly, but it is possible to teleport urgently. Martin and Ampyx materialized outside Brit the Younger’s door. Martin was perched on the balls of his feet, ready for anything. Instead of anything, he found nothing, nothing out of the ordinary anyway, and it seemed to confuse him for a moment. He swiveled his head around, making sure the coast was clear, then removed his hand from Ampyx’s shoulder and rang the doorbell.
As they waited for Nik to answer, Martin kept looking from one end of the hall to the other.
“Is something wrong?” Ampyx asked.
“Yes. We’re onto something.”
“And that’s wrong?”
“Of course it is,” Martin said. “It’s always when you feel like you’re onto something that life knocks the wind out of you.”
Nik opened the door. “Oh, hello again, Martin. Who’s your friend?”
Martin said, “Nik, this is Ampyx. Ampyx, Nik. Is Gwen still here?”
Nik smiled, but shook his head. “No, the poor thing left a little after you did.”
“Where’d she go?”
“Home, I guess.” Nik turned his attention back to Ampyx. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Ampyx said, “No.”
Martin said, “Thanks, Nik. You rest. We’ll go to Gwen’s.”
Nik said, “You should.”
The three of them stood in silence, then Nik asked, “You don’t know where Gwen lives, do you?”
“No,” Martin admitted. “No, I don’t.”
Martin and Ampyx mat
erialized urgently outside Gwen’s door. Unlike Brit’s apartment and Martin’s hotel room, Gwen lived in the Atlantean equivalent of a townhouse. Her front door faced the pedestrian thoroughfare. Atlanteans went on about their business, but the city’s mood was decidedly less upbeat since the events of the morning. The worse the news, the faster it travels.
Martin took a quick look at the façade of Gwen’s home. Its Atlantis-standard white-crystalline walls were interrupted by pleasant, rather conventional-looking windows. Martin could see the backsides of curtains and plants just inside. The place gave off an air of cheerfulness. He’d have wanted to go inside even if he hadn’t known that Gwen was in there.
Martin knocked on the door. He heard nothing. He knocked again, then yelled, “Gwen, it’s me! We need to talk.”
A few seconds later, the door swung open violently. Gwen looked at Martin. She seemed to be both angry and relieved. Martin didn’t know if she was angry to feel relieved at seeing him, or relieved to feel angry at seeing him.
“Gwen, we need to talk. Can we come in?”
Gwen seemed to notice Ampyx for the first time, and his presence clearly confused her. “Uh, sure,” she said, stepping aside.
Martin went in the door, but Ampyx hesitated. Martin turned around and said, “Come on in. You might as well watch us from up close for a change.” Ampyx followed Martin into Gwen’s home.
From the outside, peeking in through the windows, Gwen’s home had exuded happiness, and Martin could see why. What with the curtains, the flowers, and the decorative furnishings, the areas right next to the windows almost reeked of cheerful good taste. The rest of the house seemed to be storage space for rolls of fabric, dress dummies, work tables, and sewing machines. The whole back wall of the room was covered with racks of garments in various stages of completion.
Martin spun around, taking it all in. “You still make clothes?” he asked.
“Yes,” Gwen answered.
“Why?”
Gwen said, “Because I enjoy making clothes.”
