Nightlord: Orb

by Garon Whited

  He understood. He apparently understood quite clearly.

  “Now, I’m going to let go of your throat—and only your throat. Do anything I don’t like and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. Thumbs up if you understand.”

  He comprehended beautifully. I let go of his throat.

  “Now,” I began, pleasantly, “what’s your name?” Well, I said it as pleasantly as possible, considering I was still holding one of his ribs in my fist.

  “Roger!”

  “Hello, Roger. What’s your last name?”

  “Etierre.” Victor’s eyes went wide for a moment. I glanced at him.

  “You know the name?”

  “They’re another family of magi,” he informed me. “I know of them.”

  “Okay. Roger, why did you break into my house?”

  “There’s something in it! Magical! Powerful! Our globe had a pinprick of light appear on it! I was sent to go look!” The accent sounded French. I suspected English wasn’t his first language.

  “Anyone else sent with you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Who?”

  “My brother.”

  “Where is he?” I asked, tightening my grip a trifle.

  “In the car! He did the spell to see the house was empty, that’s all!”

  “All right. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to let go of you and you’re going to leave. I expect the head of your household to send me a written apology for your indiscretion in exchange for allowing you to live. Mailing it will be fine. I don’t care to see you again. Got that?”

  “Yes! Yes, ’Sieur!”

  “Get going.” I let go of him and pointed him toward the front. He staggered away, clutching at his wound. His vital force was somewhat depleted and now he was bleeding freely. At a guess, I didn’t drain more than a pint or so. He would probably be fine with only minor medical attention. If I’d hit a major blood vessel, he’d already be dead.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I told Victor.

  “So am I!”

  “I detected the intrusion in the house and acted,” I went on. “I wasn’t sure if it was a deception on your part to keep me occupied out here while someone else rifled through my stuff. I apologize most sincerely for threatening you, due to my misunderstanding, and I’m glad nothing untoward happened.”

  Victor took a minute to think that over, leaning against the barn wall. He opened his mouth to speak, reconsidered, thought some more. Finally, he stood up straight, ran a hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and let out a deep breath.

  “I might have done much the same,” he admitted, “if our circumstances were reversed. I suppose. Does this make us even for—what did you call them?—animosity points?”

  “If you like, yes.”

  “I’ll take it,” he said, faintly; his eyes had locked on to my hand. There was no blood on it.

  “Nice trick, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “It is,” he heartily agreed. “How do you do it?”

  “I have spells useful for personal combat. Someday, maybe I’ll show those to you, too.” He nodded sagely, as though he understood. I asked, “How much trouble am I going to have with the Etierre family?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since the Stuarts have really had a conflict with anyone. We’re usually good at getting along and making deals, compromising. We negotiate well. Usually we don’t have serious conflict. Certainly nothing like this.”

  “I can see that. Well, I’m sorry to do this, but it’s late and I’ve got work to do after that moron broke into my house. If you’ll show yourself out, please?”

  “Glad to,” he replied, and stood up. “And I apologize for our initial difficulties. I’m glad we’ve managed to come to an understanding.”

  “Us? Yes. We’re good. Your sister is less welcome, however.”

  “I suspect she would rather not talk to you, anyway,” he admitted, smiling slightly. I chuckled.

  “I can’t say I blame her. Good night, Mister Stuart.”

  “Good night, Mister Smith.”

  He walked around the house toward the front; two other figures joined him. One of them was Victoria. I watched them all get into their car and drive away. After a quick search of the area, I saw no signs of the Etierres, either, aside from the box-thing lying in my living room. I left it there while I put the house into lockdown.

  Once I had everything sealed up, I searched the place for other intruders and for spells. When that came up empty, I went down to the basement and drained the power from the Ascension Sphere. I put it into a scryguard spell around the house. It was a typical shielding spell to directly oppose such things, with a faint, psychic chime to alert Firebrand. I didn’t want a loud psychic chime in case someone tried to look in while guests were present.

  The place suddenly needed more defensive spells. I hadn’t anticipate this. First, though, I needed another magical charge, and I wouldn’t have one for a while. Time is always the issue… and I had a gizmo to analyze. I decided to check the gizmo, first.

  The box was broad and flat, with latches on all four sides to hold the top on. It appeared to be some sort of compass. A number of symbols surrounded a circular carving in the wood. A tiny, four-sided pyramid came to a point, supporting an intricate black iron arrow. It pointed directly toward the basement. When I picked it up, the arrow swung around and pointed at one of my magic rings. I tried bringing it near Firebrand. In close proximity, the little arrow shivered, then swung away from the basement to point at Firebrand. No doubt Bronze would have a similar effect.

  I didn’t have any effect on it, myself. I wondered if the Black Ball would, but didn’t feel like testing it.

  Then I had a major moment of confusion. The Ascension Sphere in the basement sucks in magical power. It can’t be detected by detection spells; it absorbs them. Besides, I had to take it down to use the power inside it, so it wasn’t even there anymore. Why did it still default to pointing at the basement? How did this thing work? Surely, they don’t have an ancient device solely for detecting magical currents, do they? The Sphere wouldn’t cause much of a… a… a breeze, shall we say, for the magic-detecting wind-sock to use.

  It took me a while, but I figured it out. It didn’t help that the symbols carved on the wood didn’t match the ones I started learning. They were close, but not quite the same; the builders of the device might not have had an intimate understanding of their magical alphabet. Still, after some direct examination of the elaborate little arrow—it had some arcane symbols as part of its twisty design, as well—I think I sorted it out. It was a fairly basic magic detector, pointing at the strongest magic available, kind of like a compass. Lesser sources could also affect it if they were closer, like the rings or Firebrand, but once you got them out of close proximity, it went back to being a large-scale magic detector.

  The thing wasn’t finding the Ascension Sphere. It was pointing at my power-funnels, the spells on the walls that sucked in power and directed it at the Sphere. Kind of like giant fans blowing air into a furnace, they fed the Sphere faster than the normal background would. As a result, they set up a major disturbance in what Victor called the “ether.” While the spells themselves weren’t all that powerful, they created huge ripples in the magical field and that made them seem immensely powerful as far as the detector went.

  Well, fair enough. I didn’t feel the need to turn them off to make people feel better. Besides, anyone who was going to bother me about it probably knew where they were already.

  So much for being inconspicuous and blending in. How was I supposed to know whole families of magic-users were around? This is not my fault! I didn’t get a brochure when I arrived.

  I flipped the top and latched it, then hung it in a closet by the strap. If the Etierres wanted it, they could ask for it. While I was in the house, I went online and ordered those costume contact lenses before I could forget. Then it was back down to the basement to put up another Ascension Sph
ere, and off into the back yard to collect nocturnal animals.

  I kept an eye out for scrying distortions. I was going to have to take more precautions.

  Saturday, October 17th

  That night I added some sacrificial energy to my basement repository; it’s charging up nicely. It’s times like these I really wish I had a ranch. Connecting a dozen live animals to the thing would be helpful. Having a dozen elves embedded in the walls would be even more helpful. Draining their vitality to power spells is a nice trick, but the logistics of keeping pets is a problem.

  The next morning—yesterday—I went out and bought a houseload of electronics. Home security system, microcameras, window breakage sensors, electric eyes, motion detectors, all that, along with a few accessories, like lights and speakers. Plus a few mechanical enhancements—plastic windowpanes to layer over the window glass, aluminum wall studs, some sheets of that wire backing for wall-tile, sheet metal, combination locks in padlock and deadbolt varieties, a couple of security doors, sheets of drywall and drywall patching compound, paint, and a replacement for the screen door I broke.

  There’s also some chemistry. They make an aerosol spray for Christmas trees to fireproof them, as well as other anti-flammable treatments. Some of it is good for carpet around a fireplace, some of it is good for furniture. But a traditional red fire extinguisher goes well as a fireplace accessory, too. One big one next to the fireplace, for company, several smaller ones under the couch and chairs, for emergencies.

  Yes, I’m doing the whole fortress-thing in my house. I’m starting to think a little extra in that department might be a good idea. There’s a point of diminishing returns—building a triple-walled castle on a remote mountaintop and populating the surrounding countryside with monsters is more trouble than it’s worth. having a few basic security features might be just the ticket. It’s not going to keep out a determined intruder, but it might slow one down enough to make a difference.

  There are also stacks of bagged charcoal filling one stall in the barn. I keep filling Bronze’s manger; she keeps emptying it. Seems like a good arrangement. I still haven’t gotten her a propane tank, though, but maybe when she has a stall that isn’t flammable. I could build something out of concrete blocks and brick, I suppose…

  Google Cabs also has a Google Vans service. Quite handy for large-scale shopping. The autonomous vehicles wouldn’t drive into my barn, so I had to unload everything in the yard and then move it by hand. Tedious, but not too troublesome. I guess they don’t like leaving their mapped roads.

  I realized why the street in front of my house looks strange. There are no driveways. There are no cars. There’s an unbroken length of curb, sidewalk, and yards. Nobody on my street owns a car. I’m the only person with a driveway!

  More than anything else I’ve seen around here, that weirds me out. Does everyone take a cab? Are the things really that commonplace? I’ve seen far more of the electric things humming around than any other type of vehicle, but I thought it was a natural outgrowth of technological advancement. Electric roads, electric cars. But I suppose it’s possible paying a subscription to have a car available at any time, rather than buying and maintaining one, could be cost-effective. No maintenance, no insurance, no taxes, no inspections, no license plates—no driver’s license!

  If I can find another world that resembles my world around the dawn of the twenty-first century, can I persuade the Google corporation to go with this business model? I wonder. For all I know, they already had the idea and are working on it.

  Anyway, most of yesterday involved the wiring. I’m okay as a do-it-yourself type, but it takes a while. Still, my house is much harder to sneak up on, and Diogenes—my desktop computer—has software for all of it. It’s keeping a cyber-eye on everything and has a link to my skinphone.

  I also walled in the basement stairs and installed another door at the bottom. It won’t stop a determined man with a crowbar, but it will slow down even a SWAT team.

  None of this makes the house a fortress, but it should help when people drop by to annoy me. I have most of the important things ready to go; the only delay in a sudden departure would be digging up the Black Ball of Badness. Aside from that, I could abandon everything in place and not mourn for long.

  Which brings me up to today.

  Today has also been a busy day. On the plus side, I had help. While I was replacing the broken screen door, the Fabulous Four came over to watch. They watched while I unscrewed hinges.

  “Any of you know how to use a screwdriver?” I asked.

  “Of course I know how to use a fucking screwdriver,” Luke snorted. I tried to channel the spirit of my wizard mentor, Jon, and shot Luke a Look.

  “Kid, I don’t know where you learned that word, but it’s not one to use in polite company. Say it again and I’ll have a word with your parents.”

  “Dad won’t give a shit.”

  “Will he care when I send you home with soap foaming out of your mouth? Will he care when I take you over my knee and spank you?”

  “I ain’t your kid,” he argued, but looked worried.

  “But you’re in my house,” I pointed out. “I make the rules here.” That thought disturbed him even more. “Now, in my house, you watch your language. Got that? Yes? Good.” I shifted my gaze to Edgar and pointed at the bent hinges. “Want to unscrew these for me?”

  “Sure!”

  Luke looked less than completely sure he still wanted to be there, but the other three were. He stayed. He even tried to watch his language, but I guess his parents have a less strict vocabulary policy. Maybe it comes from all the effort of getting him to talk at all. Hearing deficiencies can slow language acquisition. As long as he was trying to refrain from the profane, I ignored minor breaches. When he got a splinter in his thumb from the old screen door, I ignored the words he used then, too; he had a pretty good reason. Baby steps.

  Suitably plucked, disinfected, and bandaged, we returned to hanging a door. Once done, we moved on to fixing the hole in the kitchen wall where I banged the doorknob into it. Patricia has a light touch when it comes to applying patching compound to drywall. They also helped spread the curtains out in the back yard so we could spray them with fire retardant. I got a surprising amount of work out of them. Then we installed the new, taller hedge-gate and a spring-rod device to push it closed.

  And here I thought kids in the future would be digital zombies.

  Dang it, they might be, where I come from. This isn’t my future; this isn’t my original world.

  How depressing.

  At least I fed them lunch before I sent them home. Okay, so it was sandwiches, potato chips, and milk. When I’m mortal, I eat it; they can eat it. I even shared my pudding cups, and that’s not a favor given lightly. Gary, in particular, wolfed down everything; I added another sandwich to his plate. I still wonder about his home life. I also still have this itch to have a word with his father, too, but I’m being a good creature of the night and minding my own business.

  Having them present is something of a moral dilemma. Strange forces are now eyeballing my house. Can I let the kids continue to use the barn as a clubhouse? How dangerous are these forces? Will they care about innocent bystanders? Is the barn out of the blast radius? Can I put more magical protection on the house and make it act like a lightning rod for anything nasty, and will that be sufficient? Nothing seems to have really noticed Bronze or her charging stall; all the attention seems focused on the house. But does that make the barn safe enough for the children?

  Unpleasant thoughts while watching them walk away. What’s a monster in disguise to do?

  Another annoyance: Now I don’t dare leave the house unguarded for the weekend. Normally, I’d have been in the city yesterday evening for fencing, then again today to do the martial arts mambo. I might even have found the SCA people this weekend! But no, I have family-tradition magi poking around my house and trespassing. They don’t seem to have much respect for other people’s property—at
least, supposedly-mundane people’s property. This tells me quite a bit about how they view the world.

  I haven’t heard from the Etierre family again. At least, not yet. I’m sure I will. If nothing else, they’ll want their magic-detecting gizmo back.

  My contact lenses arrived; I already paid for rush delivery and digitally signed the waiver for drone drop-off. The drone parked them right in front of my door. I may have to get one of those drone delivery helipads. They come with a thing like a QR code on them for the drone to land on and release the package. Fancy ones are automated and will retract into the house so your stuff doesn’t get left outside if you’re not home.

  I hate the contacts. My eyes hate them, anyway. I can see fine, but my eyes feel as though they’re covered in a layer of snot. It’s an icky, disgusting feeling on par with pouring milk into your cereal and discovering it went bad quite a while ago. Given my choice, I’m sticking with the wraparound sunglasses. Fortunately, they make an electronics-enhanced pair of glasses for people with night-blindness; I’ll get a pair of those and pretend.

  I’ll wear the contacts if I have to. I’d prefer to nail my hand to a countertop. I’ve had my hand knifed to a bartop, so I know what I’m talking about.

  My metals arrived, too. They’re little cubes, not cylinders; buying online still has its problems. Some of these materials and metals are soft enough I could work with them, if I cared to. Some are too hard to reshape easily. I’ve been on the phone to customer support. It took a while to get a live person, but I managed it by being insistent, persistent, and downright stubborn. They’re exchanging them for me.

  Customer service has not improved over the last few decades.

  I’m also having other thoughts on how to make a gate. Does it have to be a gate? Couldn’t I build something like a box that caused everything in it to shift its “universe frequency”—don’t get me started, it’s only an hypothesis at this point—and therefore shift out of this universe and into another? It might take less power than opening up a portal. It’s a waste of time to open and stabilize a portal, move through it, and close it again. This would be more efficient. A charge would build up inside the box and bam!, it all disappears into an otherwhere. If I can stress space correctly in another universe, it could act as an attractor and whatever was sent could reappear there automatically.