Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress XXVI

by Unknown

  Suddenly Sylvia's expression changed, as though inspiration had struck. Uh oh, thought April, as three sheets of blue fabric whipped off the trays outside the examination rooms, revealing rows of dental instruments. From the end of one tray a nasty-looking pick rose into the air. Sylvia stared intently at Juliana—

  —and went down hard as April, ignored during Juliana's advance, tackled her. As the two women wrestled on the floor, April grabbed Sylvia's chin and turned her head this way and that, trying to keep her from seeing and controlling the deadly metal missiles. Sylvia was the larger of the two, however, and she flipped April over and held her against the floor—

  —and collapsed on top of her.

  "Oof!" April shoved the suddenly limp receptionist off her. Standing up and tossing an expended dart into the wastepaper bin, Juliana grinned. "You're welcome."

  April turned and grabbed the front of her attacker's dress. "Where is he?"

  "Don't know, don't know, don't care..." murmured the languid blonde. "Stabbed him, he fell back...then he was gone...all the fool had to say was 'Marry me,' but no..."

  "I warned him," said Virgil, "'Its Furies multitudinous hath Hell borne / But none can equal one gold-digger scorned.' Didn't know she was a Talent, though."

  * * * *

  As Juliana fastened the restraints on the receptionist, April said, "So she killed Gheorghe? With what—another pencil?"

  "Doubtful," said the officer, securing Sylvia in the chair. Charles had been summoned and would take charge of their prisoner. "We didn't find that much blood. Certainly something else, but I don't yet know what."

  Virgil approached the desk, holding up a thin metal object. "This was on two of the trays but not the third. Would it fit?"

  April recognized it as one she'd heard called a "shepherd's-hook explorer," and found herself giggling at the thought of tiny sheep grazing in a window-box herb garden...Stop it!

  Juliana took the instrument and examined it. "It could," she replied. "The entry wound would be small enough, at least from the one end, and since it wasn't in the hallway..."

  "Um...," said April, "we have only about thirty minutes left."

  "Right," said the Guard. "Virgil, we need the record-storage location now. Would Sheherezade know where it is?"

  "Not really," said the actor. "If she did the filing for Gheorghe, she's there, but I doubt she could tell you where there is."

  "Wait, wait," said April. "She did filing?"

  "Oh, yes. She's the lowest-level jinn; she can't move mountains or boil the seas, but my word, can she file papers! That's what she did for my father, and I guess he must have transferred mastery to Gheorghe. Now that he's dead, I don't know why she's still here."

  You [are] here Iosif. I wish not-ever [abandon] you.

  "She is still here!" April told Juliana what she had heard.

  "But I thought you said she was at the records-storage place," said the Guard. "How can she be in two places at once?"

  "It's not exactly that. It's more like the two places are in her presence. She's not split up." He shrugged. "I know, it sounds like a weird distinction. I just know she's aware of different places, in detail, and can act on each one."

  This wasn't helping. "So what do we do?" a frustrated April demanded.

  "Well," said Virgil, "Father never told me where he kept his files. I do know, though, that he left Gheorghe one other property besides this—it's a cottage fifty miles to the west of here. Everything else he left to the Order of Saint Luke."

  "Let's go." Juliana pulled open the front door and descended the stairs to the sidewalk, from which the street-cleaners had swept the recent snow. As the others followed, she withdrew from a pocket in her tunic what appeared to be a folded bandanna, and began to unfold it.

  "Well now, that's different," said Virgil, watching her unfold the fabric far beyond the dimensions of a handkerchief. Placing it on the walkway, she continued to unfold it until it was as large as a small carpet.

  In fact, it was a small carpet. "All right, everyone," she said. "Get on and let's get going."

  "I thought they pulled aerial rugs from the market after all those lawsuits," Virgil said as he and April stepped onto the carpet and sat down.

  "They did," Juliana replied. "Our lab people identified the flaws and modified the rugs for high-speed pursuit." She pronounced the key phrases, and the carpet rose fifteen feet into the air and then...took off.

  It was a good thing, April thought, that she wasn't wearing anything that could be snatched off by the wind. "We're not very high up," she shouted, cringing as the carpet banked sharply, cornered unnervingly close to a building, and barreled down the next street.

  "Nope," Juliana yelled back. "That was the problem with the consumer version. People were taking it too high, and it couldn't hold them. We traded altitude for speed. We should be there in...about eight minutes."

  That estimate proved accurate, as city gave way to countryside. Finally they stopped in front of a small dwelling on a snow-covered hillside that seemed positively serene. April had no time for serenity, however. Before the carpet touched down she hopped off it and raced for the front door. It was locked, but Virgil had the key.

  Inside she ran to the center of the house and reached out with her awareness. "Down!" she said, looking for stairs. Juliana found the door, and they raced down the stairway to an earth-floored basement. One brick wall was out of proportion to the house's exterior, and April sensed that it concealed two human figures.

  "Now what?" said Juliana.

  "I wake Lord Robert," replied April, taking a small box from her pocket. She activated it and called her boss's name. At Juliana's inquiring look, she said, "It's something the biology people are working on. They suspend animal cells in the middle of dividing, then magically separate them and put one set in each unit. Any sound near one set is transmitted to the other. Robert and I have linked units."

  The voice came from the box somewhat fuzzily, not because the sound itself was fuzzy but because the speaker himself still was. "I'm here...What's the word?"

  "You're in a basement," said April, "behind a false wall with no doors."

  "Built to keep...people out...things in? Good...means the Key...can work on it....Stand back...gonna be...Jericho...."

  "Wait!" cried Virgil. "You mean you're going to knock the wall down?"

  "No choice..."

  Two objections sounded simultaneously: April's "Are you sure it isn't load-bearing?" and Virgil's "Hold on, let me try something else first—" They cast embarrassed glances at each other, and then Virgil called out, "Shahiraz! Iftakh ya, simsim!"

  For several heartbeats no one dared to breathe. Then a bright spark appeared near the top of the wall, sizzling its way to one side to draw a glowing line. Turning a corner downward, the spark traced a crenellated path between the bricks, then turned back when it reached the floor to form the third side of a rough rectangle. When the glowing line reached a point below its beginning, it went out. With a loud rumble, the outlined portion of wall swung slowly outward in one piece, coming to rest against the adjacent wall. Robert stumbled out to collapse on the floor, taking deep breaths.

  Juliana stepped into the enclosure. "Here's Gheorghe. April, could you take a look, please?"

  April joined the officer and focused her awareness on various parts of the body that rested on the floor of the room. "The shepherd's thingy is in there. Apparently Sylvia stuck it into him, pushed it through the middle of his heart, and held it there."

  "Would she have had to use her Talent to do that?"

  "With that hook on the end? Yes." April caught Juliana's look and nodded. Murder done with magic—at least by someone of sound mind—meant a Wizard's Tribunal and things she shuddered to think about.

  Robert, recovering his wind, pulled himself to a sitting position. "I'm certainly glad you found us," he said.

  "Virgil gets the credit for that," Juliana answered. "Lord Robert, meet Virgil the Reasonably Magnificent—act
or, juggler, and brother of Gheorghe." She smiled at the actor, who grinned back at her. "He figured out where you probably were—and he's the one who opened this place up."

  "I see. Thank you, Virgil. I'm going to miss your brother. It's rare to find someone who shares one's style of humor." He waved an arm at the opened cache. "Welcome, ladies, to 'the inward parts.'"

  Where are my manners? "Thank you, Shahiraz!" said April. "You saved a life today."

  [Pleasure] mine, came the reply. Exists-not [indebtedness]. That sent a chill through April, who suddenly recalled the consequences of acknowledging a gift from some entities — manners or no manners. "Virgil, what was that you said to her before the room opened?"

  She felt a wave of amusement from the jinn, and Virgil answered, "Something she told me about, from a job she held a long while ago. It's the imperative open, followed by a password, sesame."

  "Really?" said Robert. "She worked for the Forty Thieves? You and she and I need to talk."

  * * * *

  The carpet expanded to wrap and carry Gheorghe's body. Juliana and April had taken their seats and were waiting patiently when Virgil and Lord Robert emerged from the cottage and joined them.

  "What did you talk about?" April asked.

  Robert and Virgil made their way through the snow and sat down on the carpet. "Our new friend has had an interesting career. The Key really did belong to Solomon. Seems a delegation from Arabia brought Shaz to his palace, but she refused to join the other jinns in building the Temple. So he used the Key to lock her up for the next four centuries, until the Babylonians smashed up Jerusalem and she skedaddled. When I tried to use the Key on the closet, she recognized it immediately and got rid of it. I went along for the ride." He smiled wryly. "And a weird ride it was, too. Anyhow, I asked if Shaz would be interested in working with the Registrar's Office. I reckon anyone who managed the property of the Forty Thieves could really help with our files."

  "Besides," he continued, "we can't teleport anything larger than messaging paper over any distance. She moved two hundredweights in an instant. I think the College of Wizardry might just want a consultation, don't you?"

  Juliana added, "Meanwhile, I think our lab people would like to take a look at those 'cellular communicators' of yours, if you don't mind. We could certainly use something like that."

  "I'll see what we can do."

  April had a sudden thought. "Virgil, is Sheherezade discreet? We're talking about giving her access to student records, and if she still tells stories..."

  Virgil considered it. "I think we can ensure that confidential information remains confidential."

  "On the other hand," said Robert, "we might turn her loose in the faculty offices. Some truth from those 'inward parts' could be interesting indeed."

  Mad Magic

  by Margaret L. Carter

  Here is a story about an unusual amount of trouble to get an apprentice for a mage. There's also a cat involved, but at least it's not a dragon—or a vampire.

  Marked for life by reading Dracula at the age of twelve, Margaret L. Carter started writing stories sympathetic to vampires and other "monsters" because back then, in her teens, she couldn't find enough of them to read. She received her Ph.D. in English with a dissertation on the Gothic novel and has taught some English literature classes over the years. She writes horror, fantasy, and paranormal romance and works part time as a legislative editor for the Maryland General Assembly. In collaboration with her husband, a retired naval officer, she has published a fantasy trilogy about sorcerers, magical combat, family secrets, and dragons. Her website, Carter's Crypt, can be found at www.margaretlcarter.com.

  #

  The windows of the mansion shone with the glow of dozens of oilnut lamps. To Lorita, the spectacle looked more threatening than welcoming. She didn't belong in this setting. She stepped from the carriage and smoothed the skirt of her unfamiliar evening gown, which rippled blue-green like a waterfall. Her employer, the wizard Arlen, had assured her that she and her magically forged invitation would easily pass inspection. Still, she would have felt more at ease in her usual tunic and trousers, not to mention boots instead of these impractical shoes. She'd had to practice before she could walk in them without stumbling.

  Tallis, the apprentice mage driving the carriage, scowled down at her. The frown and his rakishly disheveled raven hair slightly marred his disguise as a coachman, but with luck none of the guests or staff would get close enough to notice. "I should go in with you," he said for possibly the tenth time that evening.

  "Don't start that again. Master Arlen and Mistress Irina agreed this way is the safest. You're known by sight to Sylene's guardians. I'm not."

  "Aunt Irina could have cast a glamour so they wouldn't recognize me."

  "And if it didn't last long enough, happened to fail in the middle of a crowd?" They'd gone through this whole argument several times over. "Your job is to wait here and be ready so we can make a fast getaway after I sneak her out."

  This escapade seemed like a lot of trouble to go through to free a mad girl from a greedy aunt and uncle who wanted to keep control of her fortune. No, not mad, Lorita reminded herself. Mistress Irina swore financial motives alone had caused Sylene's guardians to lock her up and forbid her either to study magic with Irina or to marry Tallis. Either course would take their niece's inheritance out of the couple's clutches, not to mention impoverishing their own son, whose betrothal tonight's festivity celebrated.

  Arlen had offered his colleague Irina aid in freeing her would-be student and sent Lorita to carry out the task. She patted the elaborately coiffed black wig that covered her own short, brown hair and took the invitation out of the embroidered purse on her belt, where she'd also tucked the prepared spells Arlen had given her in the form of crystal beads.

  The liveried guard at the door barely glanced at the square of parchment. She checked one last time to make sure her flowing sleeves hid the creature wrapped around her arm like a translucent ribbon. Her familiar, Arlen called it, though technically, as more thief than wizard, she couldn't have a true familiar. It reacted to her nervousness by tightening its coils.

  Easy, Taper. Nothing to worry about. While it couldn't answer her in words, even silently, she sensed its relaxation. Her skin tingled from the myriad tiny needles on its underside as it absorbed a few drops of her blood. The usual rush of pleasure from the contact boosted her confidence. She stepped over the threshold into the entry hall. Fragrances of lamp oil and scented candles perfumed the air. Cloying heat replaced the cool of the night air. Lamps in wall sconces lit the way to the ballroom, where richly dressed people danced to a quartet of musicians on one side or clustered around the refreshment table on the other side. Draperies in the household's colors of crimson and gold adorned the walls, the red hue matched by bouquets of roses on the table. All she had to do was thread her way through the crowd and slip out the far door into the corridor without attracting notice. She'd memorized Tallis's directions to Sylene's chamber.

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the middle of the room. Strolling at a leisurely pace to avoid standing out, she paused at the buffet. Food aromas tickled her nose. Strips of rare meat on skewers, shrimp on a bed of ice with a bowl of sauce for dipping, and the miniature eggs of some exotic bird tempted her. Well, why not take advantage of the rare chance to try delicacies she never came across in her normal life? She wanted to blend in, didn't she? She chose a sample of the meat and nibbled on it while watching the nearby guests. Pepper and hints of spices she didn't recognize flavored it.

  As she set aside the empty skewer and reached for a glass of chilled, amber-colored wine, a young man also picking up a drink turned to her with a smile. Tall and copper-haired, he wore an emerald green robe embroidered in gold. "Good evening." He scanned up and down her body before returning his gaze to her face. "I'm Orrin, a distant cousin of our hosts." He clasped her hand and bowed over it before she could dodge. "I'm sure I haven't met you before. I would remember.
"

  Lorita almost laughed at the trite attempt at flattery, but his winning smile made up for the blatant falseness of the words. "My name is Lorita." No reason to invent a false name, since the family wouldn't have heard of her. "I'm a friend of Sylene's. I'd hoped to see her here, but she doesn't seem to be around." She made the claim on impulse, hoping to find out whether the story about Sylene's madness was generally believed.

  Orrin's smile faded. "I haven't seen her in months. I've heard she's very ill, poor girl."

  "Then perhaps I should pay her a visit. She must get lonely if she's been confined to her room for so long."

  He evaded her eyes. "I'm sure she could use a friend. But from what I hear, she's not allowed visitors."

  Lorita sipped her wine, relishing its crisp flavor. She shouldn't have let the man lure her into conversation, for now she would have to slip away without seeming too abrupt. "Do you know what's wrong with her?"

  From Orrin's deliberately blank expression, she knew he must have heard the report of insanity. "Her aunt and uncle don't encourage questions, and I'm not close enough to push the issue." The musicians shifted from the lively tune they'd been playing to a slower one. Orrin seized the opening to clasp Lorita's hand again. "Shall we dance?"

  She stifled the instant of panic that quickened her heartbeat. Taper reacted by squeezing her arm. She soothed it with thoughts of calm she didn't feel. Though she could walk steadily enough in these shoes, she couldn't imagine dancing in them. Orrin drew her into the center of the floor before she could voice a protest. Automatically she placed her hand on his shoulder when his fingers alighted on her waist. Fortunately, her sleeves draped loosely enough to cover her familiar even in this position. But suppose her partner's hands wandered out of the formalized pattern of the dance? If he discovered Taper, there would be no maintaining her disguise as an ordinary guest.