So You Want To Be A Wizard yw-1

by Диана Дуэйн

  A pale spark floated shakily through the air to perch on her (Here,) he said, sounding as tremulous as Nita felt (Are you well?)

  She nodded, walked toward the wreck. Kit stood on the other side of it, J"5 fist clenched on the antenna. He was shaking visibly. The sight of his terror made Nita's worse as she came to stand by him. "Kit," she said, fighting the e t0 cry and losing — tears spilled out anyway. "This is not a nice place," she said.

  He gulped, leaking tears himself. "No," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "it sure isn't," He looked over at the glass-walled building. "Yeah," Nita said, scrubbing at her face. "We better have a look."

  Slowly and carefully they approached the building, came to one collapsed wall, peered in. Nita held her wand high, so they could see by its glow. Inside, hidden amid the trash and broken glass, was what seemed to be a rude nest built of scraps of metal and wire. In the nest were three baby helicop-ters, none more than two feet long. They stared fiercely at Kit and Nita from tiny faceted eyes like their parent's, and threatened with little jabbing fore-legs, whirring with rotors too small to lift them yet. Sharing the nest with the fledglings was the partially stripped skeleton of a dog. Kit and Nita turned away together. "I think maybe we should go down-stairs a little ways before we do that finding spell," Kit said, his voice still shaking. "If there's another of those things—" "Yeah." They headed down the stairwell, to the door that in their own world had opened onto the elevator corridor. The two of them sat down, and Nita laid the rowan wand in her lap so there would be light — the ceiling lights in the stairwell were out, and the place felt like the bottom of a hole.

  "Fred," Kit said, "how're you holding up?"

  Fred hung between them, his light flickering. (A little better than before. The silence is still very terrible. But at least you two arc here.)

  "We'll find you the Sun, Fred," Nita said, wishing she was as sure as she was trying to sound. "Kit, which spell was it you were going to use?"

  Kit had his manual out. "At the bottom of three eighteen. It's a double, we read together." Nita got out her own book, paged through it. "McKillip's Stricture? That's for keeping grass short!"

  No, no!" Kit leaned over to look at Nita's manual. "Huh. How about that, our pages are different. Look under 'Eisodics and Diascheses.' The °urth one after the general introduction. Davidson's Minor Enthalpy."

  Nita ruffled through some more pages. Evidently her book had more information than Kit's on the spells relating to growing things. Her suspicion /out what their specialties were grew stronger. "Got it." She glanced r°ugh the spell. "Fred, you don't have to do anything actually. But this is e ot those spells that'll leave us blind to what's happening around here. Watch for us?-

  [Absolutely!)

  <0lcay," Kit said. "Ready? One — two — three—"

  They spoke together, slowly and carefully, matching cadence as they described the worldgate, and their own needs, in the Speech.

  The shadowy stairwell grew darker still, though this darkness seemed less hostile than what hung overhead; and in the deepening dimness, the walls around them slowly melted away. It seemed to Nita that she and Kit and the small bright point between them hung at a great height, unsupported, over a city built of ghosts and dreams. The buildings that had looked real and solid from the roof now seemed transparent skeletons, rearing up into the gloom of this place. Stone and steel and concrete were shadows — and gazing through them, down the length of the island, Nita saw again the two points of light that she and Kit had seen in the first spell. The closer one, perhaps ten blocks north in the east Fifties, still pulsed with its irregular, distressing light. Compelled by the spell's working, Nita looked closely at it, though that was the last thing she wanted to do — that bit of angry brightness seemed to be looking back at her. But she had no choice. She examined the light, and into her mind, poured there by the spell, came a description of the light's nature in the Speech. She would have backed away, as she had from the perytons, except that again there was nowhere to go. A catalogue, of sorts, that light was — a listing, a set of descriptions. But all wrong, all twisted, angry as the light looked, hungry as the helicopter-creature had been, hating as the surrounding darkness was, full of the horrors that everything in existence could become. The Book which is not Named—

  Nita struggled, though unable to move or cry out; her mind beat at the spell like a bird in a cage, and finally the spell released her. But only to look in the other direction, downtown toward the Wall Street end of the island. There in the illogical-looking tangle of streets built before the regular gridwork of Manhattan was laid down, buried amid the ghosts of buildings, another light throbbed, regular, powerful, unafraid. It flared, it dazzled with white-silver fire, and Nita thought of the moonlight radiance of the rowan wand.

  In a way, the spell said, this second light was the source of the wand's power, even though here and now the source was bound and limited. This time the syllables of the Speech were no crushing weight of horror. They were a song, one Nita wished would never stop. Courage, merriment, afl invitation to everything in existence to be what it was, be the best it could oe, grow, live—description, affirmation, encouragement, all embodied in one place, one source, buried in the shadows. The Book of Night with Moon.

  A feeling of urgency came over Nita, and the spell told her that without the protection of the bright Book, she and Kit and Fred would never survive the hungry malevolence of this place long enough to find the worldgate aA escape. Nor, for that matter, would they he able to find the worldgate at aUf it was being held against them by powers adept in wizardries more poteD' than anything the two of them could manage. It would be folly to try match-' „wizardries with the Lone Power on its own ground, this outworld long given over to its rule. Their best chance was to find the bright Book and free it of the constraint that held its power helpless. Then there might be a chance.

  The spell shut itself off, finished. Walls and physical darkness curdled around them again. Kit and

  Nita looked at each other, uncertain.

  "We've been had," Kit said.

  Nita shook her head, not following him.

  "Remember Tom saying it was odd that our first spell turned up Fred and the news that the bright Book was missing? And what Picchu said then?" "There are no accidents," Nita murmured.

  "Uh huh. How likely do you think it is that all this is an accident? Some-thing wanted us here, I bet." Kit scowled. "They might have asked us! It's not fair!"

  Nita held still for a moment, considering this. "Well, maybe they did ask us."

  "Huh? Not me, I—"

  "The Oath."

  Kit got quiet quickly. "Well," he admitted after a while, "it did have all kinds of warnings in front of it. And I went ahead and read it anyway."

  "So did I." Nita closed her eyes for a second, breathing out, and heard something in the back of her head, a thread of memory; Did I do right? Go find out… . "Look," she said, opening her eyes again, "maybe we're not as bad off as we think. Tom did say that younger wizards have more power. We don't have a lot of supplies, but we're both pretty good with the Speech by now, and Fred is here to help. We're armed—" She glanced down at the rowan wand, still lying moon-bright in her lap.

  "For how long?" Kit said. He sighed too. "Then again, I guess it doesn't matter much — if we're going to find the bright Book, the only way to do it is to hurry. Somebody knows we're here. That thing showed up awful fast—" He nodded at the roof.

  Yeah." Nita got up, took a moment to stretch, then glanced down at Kit. He wasn't moving. "What's the matter?"

  Kit stared at the antenna in his hands. "When I was talking to the Edsel," e said, "it told me some things about the Powers that didn't want intelligence to happen in machines. They knew that people would start talking to r01* make friends with them. Everybody would be happier as a result. ose Powers—" He looked up. "If I understood that spell right, the one this place is the chief of them all, the worst of them. The Destroyer, e engenderer of
rust—>h Kit!"

  "I know, you shouldn't name it—" He got up, held out a hand to Fred who hobbled over to Kit and came to rest on his palm. "But that's who we're up against. Or what. Fred, do you know what we're talking about?"

  Fred's thought was frightened but steady. (The Starsnuffer,) he said. (The one who saw light come to be and could not make it in turn — and so rebelled against it, and declared a war of darkness. Though the rebellion didn't work as well as it might have, for darkness only made the light seem brighter.)

  Kit nodded. "That's the one. If we do get the bright Book, that's who'll come after us." Fred shuddered, a flicker of light so like a spark about to go out in the wind that Kit hurriedly tucked the antenna under his arm and cupped his other hand around Fred protectively. (I've lost enough friends to that one,) Fred said, {heard enough songs stilled. People gone nova before their time, or fallen through naked singularities into places where you burn forever but don't learn anything from it.)

  For a moment neither of them could follow Fred's thought. Though he was using the Speech, as always, they couldn't follow what other things he was describing, only that they were as terrible to him as a warped thing like the helicopter-creature was to them. (No matter,) he said at last. {You two are part of the answer to stopping that kind of thing. Otherwise my search for an Advisory nexus wouldn't have brought me to you. Let's do what we can.) Kit nodded. "Whatever that is. I wish I knew where to begin."

  Nita leaned back against the wall. "Didn't Tom say something about the two Books being tied together? So that you could use one to guide you to the other?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well. We're not too far from the dark one." Nita swallowed. "If we could get hold of that — and use it to lead us to the bright one. That vision only gave a general idea of where the Book of Night with Moon was. Probably because of it being restrained, or guarded, or whatever—" Kit looked at Nita as if she had taken leave of her senses. "Steal the dark Book? Sure! And then have—" He waved his hand at the northward wall, not wanting to say any name. " — and Lord knows what else come chasing aftef us?"

  "Why not?" Nita retorted. "It's a better chance than going straight for the bright one, which we know is guarded somehow. We'd go fumblini around down there in the financial district and probably get caught rigl" away. But why would they guard the dark Book? They're the only ones wn° would want it! I bet you we could get at the dark one a lot more easily thai1 the other." Kit chewed his lip briefly. "Well?" Nita said. "What do you think?"

  "] think you're probably nuts. But we can't just sit here, and it wouldn't hurt to go see what the situation is — Fred?"

  (Lead,) Fred said, (I'll follow.)

  Kit gently tossed Fred back into the air and paused long enough to put his book away. He didn't put the antenna away, though. The rowan wand glowed steadily, and brilliantly. "Can't you damp that down a little?" Kit said. "If somebody sees us—"

  "No, I can't. I tried." Nita cast about for ways to hide it, finally settled on sticking it in her back jeans pocket and settling her down vest over it. "Bet-ter?"

  "Yeah." Kit had turned his attention to the doorknob. He touched it, spoke softly to it in the Speech, turned it. Nothing happened. "Not listen-ing?" he wondered out loud, and bent to touch the keyhole. "Now why— Ow!" He jumped back, almost knocking Nita over. "What's the matter?"

  Kit was sucking on his finger, looking pained. "Bit me!" he said, removing the finger to examine it. It bled.

  "I get the feeling," Nita said slowly, "that there's not much here that's friendly." "Yeah." Kit looked glumly at the doorknob, "I guess we'd better consider everything we see potentially dangerous." He lifted the antenna, bent down by the lock again, and touched the keyhole delicately with the knob at the antenna's end. A brief red spark spat from the antenna; the innards of the lock clicked. This time when Kit turned the knob, the door came open a crack.

  With great caution he opened the door a bit more, peered out, then opened it all the way and motioned Nita to follow him. Together they stepped out into a hall much like the elevator corridor in their own world, but dark and silent. (The elevator?) Kit said inwardly, not wanting to break that ominous quiet. (Do you trust it?)

  (No. Know where the stairs are?) (Down the way we came. Past the elevator.) "he door to the main stairway had to be coerced into opening by the same method as the door to the roof. When they were through it Kit spent an-other moment getting it to lock again, then stepped over to the banister and °°ked down at story after story of switchback stairs. (It could be worse,) Nita said. (We could be going up.)

  Ut will be worse,) Kit said. (If the worldgate stays at this level, we're going to have to come back up… .)

  T~*L ney headed down. It took a long time. The few times they dared stop to st> Kit and Nita heard odd muffled noises through the walls — vaguely threatening scrapes and groans and rumbles, the kind of sounds heard in nightmares. The stairs were as dark as the corridor had been, and it was hard to sit in the corner of a landing, rubbing aching legs, with only the light of Nita's wand to argue with the blackness that towered above and yawned below, as those sounds got louder.

  They quickly lost count of how many stories downward they'd gone. All the landings looked the same, and all the doors from them opened off into the same pitch-blackness — until finally Kit eased one open as he had eased open scores of others and abruptly stood very still. He put his hand out behind him, (Nita! The wand.)

  She passed it to him. It dimmed in his hand from moonfire to foxfire, z faint silver glimmer that he held out the door as he looked around. (It's all that shiny stone, like the other lobby, There should be a way down into the station, then—)

  Nita's hair stood up on end at the thought. (Kit, you saw what happened to helicopters. Do you really want to meet a train? Let's go out on the street level, okay?)

  He gulped and nodded. (Which way?)

  (There's a door out onto Forty-fifth Street. C'mon.)

  She slipped out, and Kit followed with the wand. Its pale light reached just far enough ahead to gleam off the glass wall at the end of the corridor. Near it was the down escalator, frozen dead. They made their way softly down it, then across the slick floor and out the glass doors to the street. It was nearly as dark outside as it had been inside; a night without a hint of Moon or stars. The air down there wasn't as chill as it had been on the building's roof, but it stank of dark city smells — exhaust, spilled gasoline, garbage, and soot. The gutter was clogged with trash. They stepped out to cross Forty-fifth—

  "No," Nita hissed, startled into speech, and dragged Kit back into the dark of the doorway. Pale yellow-brown light flickered down the street, got brighter. A second later, with a snarl of its engine, a big yellow Checker Cab hurled itself past them, staring in front of it with headlight-eyes burned down to yellow threads of filament — eyes that looked somehow as if they could see. But the cab seemed not to notice them. Its snarl diminished as it plunged down the street, leaving a whirl of dirty paper and dead leaves in its wake. Kit coughed as its exhaust hit them. (That was alive,) he said when he got his breath back. (The same way the helicopter was.) Nita made a miserable face. (Let's get outa here,) she said.

  Kit nodded. She led him off to their left, through the Hclmsley-Spear Building, which should have been bright with gold-leafed statuary. Here» was gray witn soot> an
  She hoped for some more encouraging sight as they came onto Forty-sixth Street and looked up Park Avenue. The hope was vain. The avenue stretched away and slightly upward for blocks as it did in their own world, vanishing in the murk. But the divider between the uptown and downtown lanes, usually green with shrubbery, had become one long tangle of barren thorn bushes. The old-fashioned red-and-green traffic lights burned low and dark as if short on power; and no matter how long one watched, they never changed from red. The shining glass-and-steel office buildings that had lined the avenue i
n their Manhattan were grimy shells here, the broad sidewalks before them cluttered with rubbish. Nothing moved anywhere, except far up Park, where another pair of yellow eyes waited at a corner. Those eyes made Nita nervous. (This way,) she said. She hurried past a dirty granite facade full of still doors and silent windows. Kit followed close, and Fred with him, both looking worriedly at everything they passed.

  Nita was doing her best to keep herself calm as they turned the corner onto Forty-seventh. It can't all be as bad as the helicopter, she told herself. And nothing really bad has happened to us yet. It was just the shock of the—

  She jumped back into the shadow of a building on hearing a clapping sound so loud she felt sure the helicopter's mate was coming for them. Fred and Kit huddled terrified into that shadow too, and it took a few seconds for any of them to find the source of the sound. Not more than five or six feet from them, a pigeon had landed — a sooty-dark one, cooing and strutting and head-bobbing in a perfectly normal fashion. It walked away from them, muttering absently, intent on its own pursuits. Kit poked Nita from behind—not a warning: a teasing poke. (Getting jumpy, huh.) (Yeah, well, you were the one who said—)

  . The lightning-stroke of motion not six feet away knocked the merriment "ght out of them. What had seemed a perfectly ordinary fire hydrant, dull yellow, with rust stains and peeling paint, suddenly cracked open and shot °ut a long, pale, ropy tongue like a toad's. The pigeon never had a chance. *i't side-on, the bird made just one strangled gobbling noise before the tongue was gone again, too fast to follow, and the wide horizontal mouth it £anie from was closed again. All that remained to show that anything had aPpened was a slight bulge under the metallic-looking skin of the fire hy-arant. The bulge heaved once and was still. Nita bit her lip. Behind her she could feel Kit start shaking again. (I feel rry for the next dog that comes along,) he said. (I hope you don't mind if I cross the street.) Kit headed out of the shadow.