The Late Great Wizard Page 13

  Brian shook his head at me. “I wouldn’t have seen them.”

  “Of course you would have! They’re right there in front of you.”

  “No. As you spoke each word, it revealed itself.”

  I grabbed his chin and turned his face toward me. “Repeat after me: I, Brian, am the wizard here. Maybe late, but definitely great, and you’ll be there again.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Not even half a wizard without my artifacts returned to me, and although you’ve kept this trip from being an entire disaster, Remy has outwitted us all.” Brian still sat there, but the voice spoke as pure professor. “To repeat myself, perhaps on deaf ears or perhaps not—the writing only revealed itself as you spoke its truth.”

  I shook my head. “It was all there before I read it. You’re just tired. Or perhaps Remy got to you a bit.”

  “To what end?” Morty grumbled.

  Brian leaned forward to Morty. “To whatever end she chooses, as usual. I can’t say if she’s doing the will of the Society or if Malender has caught her up or if she has an agenda of her own. I will say this: she knows the value of what she’s taken from us, and what’s missing. She knows that although she’s gotten her hands on some valuable scrolls and my passports, she’s not taken anything I can’t do without. The scrolls are but paper reminders of what I learned once and will regain when the ritual is finished. Whatever she’s up to, she knows that I must retrieve far more important objects to revive myself and secure my power.”

  “In other words, she’s not about to give up.”

  His glance flickered to me. “Precisely.”

  Not that I ever thought Remy would be a quitter. She struck me as truly tenacious. I tapped the cane. “Any idea where this pertains to? Other than maybe a Biblical verse?”

  “Not yet, unfortunately.”

  “Maybe another obelisk like the Washington Monument?” I tried to nudge Brian’s Swiss-cheese memory.

  “Not an idea.”

  The driver turned around, taking his ear pods out, and looked at each of us carefully. This was the man who’d been carefully neutral and uninterested about any of our goings on or conversations, so disinterested we hadn’t even bothered whispering or talking in code as he’d listened to his audio book. He cleared his throat. “Don’t want to butt in, but the gent who told me to look for you all said you might need a bit of help now and then. Looking for another obelisk? The next most famous one I know is in Central Park. It’s near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Came all the way over from Egypt when people were stealing those things, you know. Cleopatra’s Needle they call it.”

  I think we all blinked. I know I did, and Brian did, and all I saw was the back of Morty’s head, but he sat in stunned silence. The driver, whose name I suddenly remembered as Sam, shifted in his seat.

  “I used ta drive tourists in New York, too, you know.”

  Not that we would have any way to know, but now he’d told us.

  He’d been so quiet I thought Morty had put an earth hug on him or something. I sat back. “Huh.”

  “Now, you guys been a good bunch and pay well, too. It’s a three-four hour drive one-way and we’d get there after dark, not much to see then, and traffic and all. But if you’re willing to stay over tonight, I can drive everyone tomorrow and bring all of youse back. I even have room for that gent who talks like a chimney sweep, the fella who told me you needed a shuttle.”

  Steptoe! I leaned as far into the front seat of the shuttle as the seat belt let me. “What about him?”

  “Oh, nice guy. Hailed me at the curb, told me you guys would be along in a little bit and want a drive or two. He looked the shuttle over and said it looked in pretty good shape. Some of my fellow drivers, they go for the economy models, or they get used and drive ’em to death. I take care of my ride. He said it showed. He, ah, well he paid me on top of your fee. Said all of youse were doing a little scavenger hunt, like, and mum’s the word, but I’d be doing all right by helpin’. And he’s been right, so far.” Sam reached forward to his console, which looked like a bird or mouse nest had taken up residence in it, and fished around till he pulled out a business card. As he flashed it, he confirmed the name.

  “As he told you, mum’s the word.”

  “Oh, yeah. Said I should keep my tongue tied about all this, what might be said and such. Secret society goings on and all, and not to be repeatin’ anything I heard. Might be important, he told me, and maybe even a touch dangerous. I don’t need dangerous after driving in New York City or Boston—jeez, now that’s a town to avoid drivin’ in—but I keep quiet all right.”

  “You certainly do,” Morty told him. He bent back toward me. “I don’t like that Steptoe’s in this.”

  Morty’s jawline tightened while he considered Sam’s words.

  “He wanted my head,” Brian muttered.

  “Because he thought you’d immolate everybody and everything around you, and you almost did. He was trying to get to you ahead of that Boss,” I said.

  “Boss?”

  “Malender.”

  “Oh. They wanted my things. They threatened me.”

  “From what I heard, they wanted to give you an escort to a safe revival, but you started a fight and it got out of hand. Their view seems to be that the professor needs to be renewed and at top speed to face what is coming.”

  Morty gave a half snort. “Steptoe’s story will change as he deems it profitable, if we are to be generous.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  Morty’s eyes gleamed at me. “A downright scoundrel.” He reached around and tapped the cane. “Seems like we should check that out.”

  “We’d have to get a couple of rooms. I’ll call Mom, but I don’t think she’ll be too upset.”

  “Done, then.” Shifting forward, Morty must have flashed a smile at the driver. “Any place you can recommend?”

  “Just so happens my brother-in-law runs a nice, clean motel in Alexandria, on the outskirts of Old Town. It’s on the small side but he should have a couple of rooms available. I’ll give him a call.” The driver anchored his hands-free device about his ear, put a call through, and five minutes later we had two rooms booked. The shuttle even stopped at a local drugstore so we could get little travel kits of toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, and other things. I sneaked in a big pack of trail mix for late night munchies as well, and Brian threw in a pack of Coca-Cola, neither of which escaped Morty’s attention when he slid his credit card through.

  We went to lunch at a Chinese place after checking in and asking for recommendations within walking distance. Old Alexandria, outside the main hub of DC, is a hotbed of restaurants, small and quaint, some reasonable and some outrageously expensive. I wondered if we’d see a congressman or two, but if we did, I didn’t recognize anybody. I thought they might give themselves away by ducking out of view but no one seemed to care. As for public spectacle, nothing matched the stares we got at lunch. It’s hard to beat Mortimer’s plaid suit on the march.

  Morty insisted on a table with a lazy Susan in the middle, and the hostess took one look at his build and went scurrying for an emperor chair rather than the plain ones we got. Even at that, the cherrywood frame complained a little as he settled into it, but that wasn’t the cause of the interest. I suspect it came from the parade of servers, with plate after plate of steaming goodness to be plunked down on the lazy Susan until it could hold no more. Interesting enough but nothing compared to the sight of Morty digging in.

  We were all hungry. The smell of fresh-wokked ingredients, a bit of garlic, meats, pepper, ginger and other savory aromas surrounded me as I grabbed my fork and served myself mounds of this, that, and the other. Even so, I couldn’t begin to compete with our Iron Dwarf as he inhaled plate after plate, using chopsticks like a pro. Some he ordered refills on, and after others were done he ordered something completely different. Brian a
te well too, after a moment’s hesitation, pouring tea whenever anyone asked and humming now and then when something delectable went down his throat. I watched him and thought I could detect both the professor and the young man vying for control to enjoy the lunch. I think it might have been Brian, though, who passed on the sea urchins. I joined him on that one.

  When Morty slowed down, I looked at him in admiration. “Wow. I have seen our college football team devour a meal. I would love to take a bet on whether you could beat them. I’d make money hand over fist.”

  “I don’t always eat like that, missy. If I did, your refrigerator at home would be bare.”

  I thought back. “True. Why today?”

  “Out of deference to your supplies and the business at hand, I’ve been on short rations. It seemed advisable to catch up and tuck away what I could for the future.”

  “Well, I know they’re glad.” I gestured at the waitstaff.

  He smiled. “I shall remember this restaurant for my family’s business.” The smile faded slowly. His tone became somber. “There were times in the past when food was not gotten so easily.”

  “Must have been tough.”

  “It was. We can, when necessary, eat dirt for our nutrients. Not a palatable diet, but doable.”

  “Dirt?”

  “Indeed. Have you not heard of such a thing?”

  I had, sort of, as a real oddity and not normal, but I just stared in disbelief.

  He nodded. “Rare, I know, but still done.”

  “Wow. I wouldn’t have thought—”

  “The necessity has saved our hides more than once. Food and water have a way of growing scarce.”

  My gaze dropped to my mostly empty plate. “Here’s hoping we’ve all learned better.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Morty’s broad smile returned as he reached for his wallet.

  Mom would have been proud, though, at the broccolini and watercress I devoured, to go with everything else. I begged for a box of char siu bao rolls to take back to the room, their steamed doughy insides filled with smoky sweet barbecued pork, just in case we missed dinner later. Morty ordered two boxes. He laughed at my ear-to-ear grin. He threw in a box of lo mein noodles for Brian, so we all walked back to our rooms satisfied and happy.

  Mort stored our leftovers in a tiny refrigerator that looked as if it might hold four bottles of water, tops. Then he turned about and gave me a sorrowful look. “There is something Brian and I need to discuss privately.”

  “Oh. Ooooh.” I headed to the door. “I’ll just be next door in my room. Or maybe down at the park square for a bit. Fresh air and all that.” Not to mention better for phone privacy since the walls here seemed a bit thin.

  “Best if you stay here. The threshold is a ward not passed by many.”

  “Okay, I’ll just be out for about fifteen. I don’t have many bars here.” I waved my phone at them. “Need to check my email and stuff. Reception is a lot better at the corner park. I caught that when Sam drove us in.”

  “Knock once on the door when you get back. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  “I will.”

  I heard Morty’s low tones vibrate through the door even as I closed it.

  The little corner park was more of a side yard for a twelve-story condo building down the street, but I inhabited its bench without remorse. Quiet and lushly green, with a squirrel who eyed me closely before twitching its tail and bounding off in disappointment as I pulled my phone out instead of peanuts. No text messages, but I did have mail, and the longest one by far came from Evelyn. I called Mom first.

  “How is Washington?”

  “Hot but not humid yet. We found something helpful, but have to go up to New York. The guys are sharing a room and I get one to myself. We’re in Alexandria.”

  “Oh.” She sounded wistful. “I used to love to go there on long weekends.”

  “Maybe in the fall.”

  “Deal. So, what’s in New York?”

  “Another obelisk. One in Central Park, looks like.”

  “You’ll miss class again.”

  “A lab, and he’s good for make-ups. I’m getting an A, so I should do all right.”

  “I’m not happy about all of this.”

  “Mom.” I didn’t quite know what I could say.

  “It could be worse, I suppose.”

  “Infinitely worse. Morty could be drinking ale.”

  She laughed. “He’s not driving, is he?”

  “Nope, we have a driver and a pretty new SUV.” I dropped my voice a little. “Morty has one of those black credit cards.”

  “Wow. Well, just don’t take advantage of him.”

  “We’re not. But it’s nice to know he can afford the trip. Gotta go. I’m out walking off the Chinese we had for late lunch.”

  “All right, honey.”

  Then I phoned Evelyn. Based on her email, I knew texts would be insufficient.

  I could hear her enthusiasm tumbling through the sentences and her oh-my-gawds after almost every period. Over coffee, she and Joanna had elaborated on plans and Joanna had pledged two tall and handsome escorts for the bash itself. And bidders. It sounded fun. I answered her with enthusiasm of my own, even though I knew this auction wasn’t for me. Tickets, dress, shoes, and guy all seemed beyond me. Next year, I thought, as I disconnected.

  The bench grill felt cool against my back as I put my chin up and studied the sky. It was hot today and would be hotter tomorrow, but we’d be further north. A few white cloud wisps skittered across the blue before shredding away to nothingness. A big cloud of starlings rose, near the airport I guessed, and wheeled around like a dark cloud of their own, heading my way. I didn’t see the jet that must have sent them winging up, but I could see their tiny dotted bodies grouped in flying formation.

  Suddenly, a few dropped. Just fell out of the sky, little black smudges hardly visible from my position, and the cloud of them flew on toward me without hesitation, tiny wings beating smoothly. Then the flock began to disintegrate, falling right and left, little starling bodies skidding about and dropping inexplicably like rocks, hitting the ground somewhere between there and where I sat.

  They’d died, right there in the air, while flying.

  I thought of the ravens, listening. Of the schools of dead fish, floating. Of a being named Malender that sucked the life force out of things both great and small.

  I jumped to my feet and ran to the motel.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I THREW MYSELF upstairs to the landing and at the motel door but the knob wouldn’t budge in my hands. I pounded in alarm.

  Brian opened the door enough to peer out, and I slammed him back to get in.

  “He’s coming!”

  “Who is coming?” Morty lumbered to his feet, the mattress springing up, freed, as he did.

  “That guy. Malender. The one who sucks the life out of fish and birds and for all I know, has the same planned for us.”

  “What makes you think that?” Brian ran a hand through his hair in distraction.

  “The starlings. A whole cloud of them rose up by the airport and began flying this way. And then they began to drop. Just fell out of the sky by the dozens and hundreds. That can’t be good, right? They were flying right at me, from miles away.”

  “Indeed, that is not good.” Morty waited a beat, watching my face.

  Brian rubbed the thick gold ring about his thumb. “You and I might be considered a little life for the taking.”

  “Well, he’s not getting mine without a fight. This guy has to have weaknesses or he would have taken the world over by now, right? From what Remy told me, he’s been hiding out in Europe or Asia.”

  “Where things have not been exactly cool and calm.”

  “So he grows on pain and chaos. Nothing new for a villain.” I crossed
my arms. “Will the threshold ward hold him?”

  “It could. It goes both ways, however, in that he shouldn’t be able to attack us nor should we try to attack him.” The professorial voice went silent as Brian fell to pacing the room in thought.

  “Why not?”

  “That would violate the ward. If he forces it, we can retaliate with all that we’re capable of, but we can’t strike first.”

  “Wonderful. America was built on sneak guerilla attacks, you know. It was the only advantage we had against the British.” I put a shoulder against the doorjamb and shoved my hands into my pocket. Steptoe’s ammo rolled against my fingertips. “Or I could outflank him.” I eyed the door between our adjoining rooms, locked as it was meant to be but fully unlockable if needed. I pointed at it. “Unlock that for me.”

  Retreating back to my own room, I took a glance from the landing as the cries of tiny birds pierced the afternoon. My key card took a minute to activate the electronic lock and then I was in. The queen bed looked big and fluffy, the rest of the plastic wood furniture clean and utilitarian as I bypassed them all to unlock the suite door from my side and went through.

  Brian and Morty both stood there waiting and watching. I pointed behind me. “That’s another threshold, right?”

  “It should be.”

  “Should? Don’t you guys have a way of testing these things out?”

  “We are known to you as friends and allies. The threshold wouldn’t bother us at all if we tried it, not unless you refused us entry. Then it might or might not, because you’re not a magical entity.”

  I stared at Brian. “But earlier you said . . .”

  “That was our doorway. It’s a little different.”

  I pointed at the adjoining doorway behind me. “Tell me that one is a little different, too.”

  “It should be. Perhaps not from our side but yours.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip for a moment. “It had better be,” I told them finally. “You keep the door unlocked. I’ll be in my room, waiting. Let out a yell when he gets here.” As the walls were more on the paper-thin side than rock solid, I figured I’d hear him. Brian looked dubious.