At least he and Sue had done their clinging in private.
After breaking their clinch, Beryle insisted on being told everything about the incident with Quetzal. John had never met this guy before and wasn't sure he liked him, but Dr. Spae seemed to trust him; she certainly didn't hold anything back from him. John went along, telling them about how the warning bit was Bennett's idea. When Dr. Spae started asking detailed questions to try and figure out what had been going on between John and Quetzal, Beryle bowed out of the conversation, claiming he was going to bed.
Shortly thereafter, Spae's questioning veered off into the "catching up" she'd said they had to do. Their talking took them well into the night. Before disappearing into her room— the same one Beryle had entered hours ago—-she pointed John at one of the suite's other bedrooms.
The room was luxurious by his current standards, even by his old standards, but it was a cold bed. He should have been elsewhere, but knew he didn't have any way to get back to the slump before morning. Maybe he could have gotten back if he had been able to enter the otherworld by himself and whistle up an elven steed, but that was a trick Bennett kept to himself.
In the morning the doctor insisted on seeing Bear right away. She wanted to see Bennett, too. John couldn't do anything about the second—she'd see Bennett if Bennett wanted to be seen. He could, however, take her to see Bear, despite some misgivings about her working for the ECSS—for which, naturally, she said she no longer worked. He decided to take her; he wasn't sure he was going to be able to get Bear straightened out and living in the twenty-first century by himself, and he didn't know anyone else to turn to.
When Beryle heard the doctor's decision, he jumped in with both feet.
"So when do we leave?" he asked.
John frowned at him. He didn't care for the way Beryle just assumed he'd be going along to see Bear. "We?"
"Yeah. When do we leave?"
"It was the doctor I asked," John said.
"If she's going, I'm going," Beryle announced.
The doctor didn't agree or disagree; she just watched John, a neutral expression on her face. What was he supposed to say? He was already committed to taking Dr. Spae back to the slump. Was this some sort of test?
"That true, Doctor?"
"I think it would be a good idea," she said. "I'd be more comfortable."
"Fine," Beryle said as if that had settled everything. "I'll rent a car."
John had assumed they'd take pub tranz. "And what are you going to do with it when we get there?"
"Is the parking bad?"
Beryle was clearly not as slick as Kun; the doctor's previous associate would have gotten the message right off. "Not too many rental cars around there."
"I think it's the neighborhood that's bad, David," the doctor said.
Beryle nodded. "I'll arrange something that won't attract too much attention."
John decided that maybe Beryle wasn't a total loss when he saw the junker that the guy had gotten for the trip. The vintage Hernando™ was all mismatched paint and bare Meshglaz™ patches; John had seen lots of its relatives near the slump. Somehow Beryle had even been lucky enough to get one with Rhode Island plates.
Or had it been luck? The ECSS had connections in the States; John had learned that from Kun.
It took three hours to drive the distance that John and Bennett had covered in less than an hour on elven steeds. Beryle parked where John directed, and grumbled about it for the last three of the four blocks of their walk to the factory. John ignored his complaints; the Hernando might look like it belonged in the neighborhood, but he still didn't want it parked in front of his slump.
Faye met them at the loading dock with a warm greeting for John. As he sometimes did when there were other people around and he wanted to talk to her, John turned his head away from them and mouthed his hello.
"Bear's been asking for you, but he's asleep right now. Gorshin's watching him. Bear hasn't been awake much; I hope he's ail right," Faye said. "I'm glad you're back. He said you'd be coming back with company. These are sunlit folk. Should Gorshin hide?"
Her question went right by John; he was stuck a little farther back. "Wait a minute," he said aloud. "Who said I'd be back with company?"
"Bennett."
Who else? He should have known.
"Hello, Faye," Dr. Spae said.
John's mouth dropped open in astonishment.
"Hello, Doctor," Faye said tentatively.
"You can hear her?" John asked.
"Certainly," the doctor said. "I'd hardly be talking to her otherwise."
John wasn't sure how he felt about this new development; Faye had been his private friend. He felt a little cheated, somehow; as if a confidence had been violated.
"Can you see her?" Dr. Spae asked.
When John admitted that he could not, she hmm'ed meditatively.
"What are you two talking about?" Beryle asked.
Dr. Spae looked at him curiously. "Oh, of course. You can't hear her at all, can you, David?"
"Hear who?"
"This is really very interesting. It raises a number of questions. I wonder if—" Dr. Spae paused for a moment, clearly thinking about something. "Faye, I'd like to try some experiments. Would you be willing to work with me? I would like to—"
"Elizabeth!" Beryle didn't sound amused. "We didn't come here to conduct experiments."
The doctor gave Beryle a hot look. John knew from previous experience that she didn't like to be interrupted. To cool things down, John said, "Bear's upstairs."
He led them to the office that had become Bear's room.
The morning sunlight slanted in through the room's grimy window, making little impression in the gloom. It would get brighter later in the day, but not by much. Bear lay on the couch, asleep. Someone had covered him with a blanket. Faye had said that Gorshin was watching Bear, but John thought the batwinged lizard-ape had abandoned its post, until he spotted a lumpy form huddled in the darkest corner of the room. He ignored Gorshin and started across the room to check on Bear. He'd only gotten halfway there when Dr. Spae shouted.
"David, no!"
The doctor's exclamation brought John around in a crouch. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't seeing Beryle pointing a boxy pistol at Gorshin's corner. Gorshin had come out of its corner and was hunched in an aggressive stance, wings half-unfurled. Dr. Spae was quietly pleading with Beryle to put up the weapon, but he wasn't listening. He kept his weapon pointed at the lizard-ape. Gorshin started to growl.
"What is it?" Beryle asked. His voice was unsteady, but his weapon hand remained unwavering.
"One of Bennett's pets," John told him.
"Gorshin," Faye said.
"Where'd you get the gun?" John asked Beryle.
"Is it dangerous?" Beryle asked no one in particular.
"Are you a gargoyle?" Dr. Spae asked Gorshin.
All the babble brought a response from Bear.
"Hold it down, compadres, or I'll do some booting," he said, chastising them as he had the noisy Dons at MaxMix Manor.
Beryle spared a second from his staring contest with Gorshin to look at Bear. "Arthur?"
"Artos," Bear said.
"How are you, Artos?" Dr. Spae asked.
"Been better, Doctor."
"So you remember me?"
"I know we've met. Or at least I think we have."
"I was hoping Dr. Spae might be able to help you," John said.
"No leeches," Bear said firmly.
John was afraid Bear had slipped his frame of reference again until he saw the twinkle in the man's eye. "Maybe you don't need a doctor."
"Maybe," Bear agreed. His shakiness when he tried to sit up belied that. He was naked under the blanket, but that didn't seem to bother him until he noticed the doctor's sudden stiffness. Without reference to the situation or apology, he pulled the blanket around himself. "I seem to recall that Dr. Spae is not that kind of a doctor anyway. Is that right?"
&
nbsp; "I do have some medical training," the doctor said. "But I'm not leech qualified, unless you count having worked for some."
The ease with which the bitter irony came to Dr. Spae's lips made John think, for the first time, that she really had left the
ECSS behind. That thought raised other questions, but he already had too many questions. Not the least of which was: where was Spillway Sue? She should have come down by now to see what was going on.
Dr. Spae started doing her "catching up" routine again, this time with Bear as the target of her questions. Beryle kept eyeing Gorshin, but the gargoyle subsided and returned to squat in his corner once again. John wasn't exactly needed here; he already knew more than he wanted to about Quetzal. He took the opportunity to head upstairs.
Sue wasn't there.
There wasn't a note. Nothing left behind. But then, she hadn't had anything to leave behind. He stared at the mattress that was his bed.
She'd felt something, hadn't she? He'd thought she had. Certainly he had.
The rumpled bedclothes on the empty mattress made him feel a little disarrayed himself. He went to the window and stared out. She was out there somewhere. Doing what? Every few minutes he'd turn around and stare at the empty bed.
Had it just been payment, after all?
He didn't want to believe that. He couldn't believe it. Their closeness, as sudden as it was, hadn't felt like that.
So why wasn't she here?
The room was suddenly too empty. He went back down to where there were people, but instead of entering the room he hung back in the hall. Faye came to him.
"She's gone, John," she told him.
He didn't need to be told that. Faye wasn't the one to ask, but who else did he have? "Did she say anything before she left?"
"She doesn't hear me, and she's afraid of Gorshin."
Was that all there was to it? Sue could have left a message, at least; she could have written a note, there was paper and a pen in John's room. Then again, maybe she couldn't. John didn't know whether she could read or write. Just one more thing among many that John didn't know about Spillway Sue.
John felt like an idiot, standing in the doorway of Bear's room. He should either go in or leave. But where would he go?
After Sue?
He knew in general where she hung out, but he didn't know where she slumped. She'd grown up around here, and he was a newcomer; if she didn't want to be found, he doubted he could find her.
If Bennett hadn't hauled him off to save Dr. Spae, she-would still be here. But Dr. Spae might not. Was that a fair trade? Fair or not, it was another thing to add to the list of what Bennett had cost him.
"Where's Bennett?"
Faye hesitated. "He's not here either."
"But he's coming back, isn't he? He must be, he left his pet behind."
"Gorshin's not a pet, John."
"Yeah? Then maybe he knows." John stalked over to the gargoyle. "So where's Bennett?"
"Gaawn."
"If he's gone, what are you still doing here?" he demanded.
"Lii'k theez playzz," Gorshin croaked. "Staaay."
Wonderful.
"Jack!" It was Bear. "Get me some clothes. Bennett's gifts have the staying power of his promises."
"You're in no shape to do anything," Dr. Spae told Bear.
"Somebody has to do something. Jack, the doctor believes that the wizard is still on the loose."
The idea gave John chills, but he tried to sound unconcerned. "So?"
"He's a wyrm lover," Bear said. "Something's got to be done about him."
"We can tell the police," John said. He'd had more than enough to do with Quetzal. Dr. Spae had been saved from him. Wasn't that enough?
"The police won't be able to handle him," Dr. Spae said.
If they couldn't, what was Bear—especially a weakened Hear—supposed to do? "You're in no shape to fight anyone, Bear."
"But Artos is right," the doctor said. "Something's got to be done."
Why don't you do it, Doctor? "You chased him away before."
"With your help, John."
"You're the one who blasted him."
Dr. Spae shrugged away her efforts. "There was a tremendous sense of tentativeness about Quetzal. I'm fairly sure that he was holding back. At the very least, he was dividing his attention between us."
"We could use Caliburn now," Bear said. "It has a certain efficacy against such as he."
"Well, we don't have it," Dr. Spae said firmly. "We've been over this, Artos. You're in no shape to fight anything."
"You probably couldn't shoot straight, let alone use a sword," John added, thankful that the doctor was being reasonable about at least one aspect of the situation. "You're still confused, Bear, and your coordination's shot."
Bear looked to be on the verge of rebellion. "The serpent lover must be stopped. The doctor needs help."
"So she'll find help somewhere else," John said. "She's got connections."
"You will help, Jack."
Who was Bear to decide for John?
"I don't think I'm strong enough to defeat Quetzal by myself," the doctor said. "We'll need your help."
"Quetzal's a mage," John pointed out. "You need magical help, and I don't do magic."
"You may not be trained, but you have talent," Beryle said.
What did he know about it?
"You do have a strong natural talent," Spae agreed.
Faye joined in. "It's in your blood, John."
Oh, thank you, Faye. Why are you siding with them?
"I've had some experience in teaching," Dr. Spae continued. "I believe that you'd be a quick learner."
Why was he resisting a chance to learn magic? His shoulder twinged in memory of Quetzal's burning hand. Because whoever went along with Dr. Spae was going to be facing Quetzal, that was why.
Was he afraid?
What kind of a question was that? Of course he was afraid. But of what?
Quetzal was the easy answer. And an honest one.
But John suspected there was more to his reluctance. What if he wasn't very good at magic? What if he didn't live up to his blood? He wouldn't be an elven prince if he turned out to be incapable of more than the simplest magics. His heritage was all he had to hold on to since he had rejected Bennett's version of an idyllic life in the otherworld. What if John's dreams turned out to be as much smoke and air as Bennett's promises?
He needed a more concrete—and less personally damning—excuse to use in front of Bear. He grabbed at the first one to come to mind. "How long did it take you to use magic effectively, Doctor?"
"We're not talking about me; we're talking about you. You have certain natural advantages."
"You mean because I'm—" John stopped himself before he said "an elf." So far, Bear had apparently not remembered that John was an elf. John recalled how Bear had reacted; he didn't want to deal with that rejection all over again. He'd had enough rejection today, already. Lamely, he finished, "because I've already had some experience?"
"Experience helps," Dr. Spae said. "But there are some things I think you can handle right away."
She sounded confident enough for both of them. Could she really teach him to harness the magic?
"Listen to her, Jack," Bear urged.
Could she teach him? Could he learn?
Even if he did learn—"What good will it do? We don't even know where Quetzal hangs out. Are you going to scry him out?"
"That'll be one of the first things we work on," Dr. Spae said.
We? John hadn't agreed yet, but the doctor was assuming he had. "I don't know."
"Come on, Reddy. You can't let Elizabeth go up against this wizard by herself."
"That wouldn't be chivalrous, John," Faye said. She knew him better than all of them. "I suppose we have to try," he said. "Good lad, Jack," Bear said. "Cei will be proud when he hears."
John tried to ignore Bear's slip.
Dr. Spae gave him a slap on his shoulder. "There may not be a lo
t of time. We'll have to get started at once."
CHAPTER
26
For the second night in a row, Spae didn't sleep after she'd sent John Reddy off to bed. It wasn't that she wasn't tired; she was. To the bone. She'd forgotten how tiring it was to work someone through basic exercises. But she couldn't afford sleep just yet. She took out the packet of Wake-EZ™ pills she'd had David get when he'd gone out for food and stared at it. There was a lot to be done and no time to do it in. Drugs were chancy things for a magician, even mild ones like these. If only she felt she had time to get some rest; she would be considerably fresher, able to think more clearly, after she got some sleep.
And he might find her again while she slept.
She popped the pill. With luck the side effects would be minor. She lay on the inflatable mattress, which David had also brought, until she felt the buzz start to kick in.
She slipped off the mattress without disturbing David, and rummaged in his case until she found her computer. It was one of the few things she'd taken with her from Chardonneville, and it contained her research files and her library. Tucking it under her arm, she left the room and sought out another, where she could work without waking David, or being disturbed by his occasional bouts of restless tossing.
Her machine, an old Sonymac Romer™, had a virtual keyboard setup; she'd never gotten used to optical boards. She slipped on the gloves and started it up. The first thing she did was disable the vocal circuits; she didn't want to disturb anyone. Voices in the night would draw in anyone who was awake in this dump—she'd seen that the gargoyle was still prowling—and she wanted to be left alone while she worked.
The portable didn't have the power of the perscomp back at the hotel, but it let her use the mobile phone circuits to tap into that computer. Tapping in via airwaves didn't make for the cleanest data flows: some of the files she recovered had been turned to garbage. But she got more than enough to keep her busy for hours—the programs she had left running had been doing their work.
She had remembered the Callis Luxorum Dubiaria as being the only known work by Luciferius, and it looked as though she was right; the search hadn't uncovered any others. Failing to find any other works, the programs had defaulted to her alternate search parameters, and had been slogging through occult databanks, of general and limited access, trying to assemble as much of the Callis as possible. In college, she had learned that very little of the grimoire was digitized. If anything, the situation had gotten worse than she remembered; the file she'd set up to collect the results of the search held only a dozen entries. She could tell from their sizes that none of them could cover more than ten pages.
robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain Page 31
