Wizards At War

“Yeah, well, it’s just the usual problem with aliens and chocolate,” Carmela said, very amused. “Is it a collectible, or a controlled substance? Or both? And whichever way the species sees it, it’s always worth a lot more in the original packaging.”

“This is cruel,” Sker’ret said. His tone, like Nita’s, was one of reluctant admiration. “I’m not sure you’re not speeding up entropy somewhat.”

“I’d say they had it coming,” Carmela said, “since they seem to have done a fair amount of speeding it up around here themselves.”

The muttering among the Tawalf got louder. Nita, watching the leader and his second-in-command as their subordinates pressed in around them, got the idea that greed, fear, and peer pressure were operating among the aliens in entirely too human a manner. Finally, the noise began to die down a little. Nita glanced at Sker’ret. “Well?” Sker’ret said.

The Tawalf leader’s voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly small. “All right,” he said. “We’ll tell you what you want to know. If we have your word as wizards that you will comply with the agreement as it’s been presented.”

“Oh, yeah, all of a sudden the nicey-niceness of wizards becomes a good thing,” Nita said, though not so far under her breath that she couldn’t be heard.

The look that Sker’ret flashed her was equally ironic, but they were of the same mind. “In the Powers’ names, and the Name of That which They serve,” Sker’ret said, “and as the Crossings’ legal representative present, I give my word.”

Carmela carefully handed Sker’ret the chocolate bar. “Don’t crease the paper!” she said, as he delicately took it in a forward handling-claw. “So. All you guys behave now,” she said to the Tawalf. “If you don’t, I’ll hear about it, and I’ll refuse to relinquish title.”

There was a lot of broken-spirited muttering from the Tawalf. “I’m going to transfer you to a secure holding facility,” Sker’ret said, moving over to the nearest gate-cluster standard and tapping at it so that it extruded its own control console. “We’ll be along to see that you have nourishment shortly, and to start your questioning. Everyone into the zone, please.”

A pad came alive, glowing red. The Tawalf spidered their way onto it and huddled there. A moment later they vanished.

Nita and Sker’ret looked at each other. Nita let out a long breath. She could hear the tiny multiple hiss as Sker’ret pushed a sigh out of the little spiracles all down the length of his body.

“You should get on home to do what you need to,” he said. “I’ll pop a gate open for you now.”

Nita looked around her, concerned. “Are you going to be able to manage here?”

“I’ll call the planetary authorities,” Sker’ret said. “They’ll send me plenty of staff until I can get the systems back up again, and get a clearer sense of what happened here. The logs should help me figure it out. And assuming that my ancestor is all right—”

He fell silent.

“I’m sure he is,” Nita said. “He’s too mean to—” She stopped herself. “I mean—”

“I know,” Sker’ret said, amused. “Go find out where your own ancestor is. I’ll meet you here afterward, and we can go back together.”

“Yeah,” Nita said.

She turned to Carmela. “One thing before I go,” Nita said. “Are your pop and mom okay?”

“They’re just fine,” Carmela said.

“Do they know you’ve left?”

“Sure. I left them a note on the fridge, the way Kit does.”

Nita was uncertain what the Rodriguezes’ response to that was going to be, but right now she had other concerns. “Look, I don’t think I’m going to have to be gone long. Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

“Haven’t I been okay so far?” Carmela said.

Even in her present stressed-out condition, Nita had to grin. “Just possibly you have,” she said. “Keep an eye on him, okay? Help him out however you can.”

“Now you know I live to do just that,” Carmela said.

“Got a gate for you,” Sker’ret said, training one eye on Nita while another one gazed at the red-lit hexagon of one of the pads in the nearest cluster. “There’s that spot out at the far end of your backyard that’s seen a lot of traffic—”

“Perfect,” Nita said. She headed for the pad.

“Better lose the accelerator,” Sker’ret said. “If anybody in your neighborhood’s sensitive enough to see the wizardry, they might talk.”

Nita nodded, tossed the accelerator up into the air, snapped her fingers at it; the spell resolved itself into its component words in the Speech, a long tangled drift of words and symbols that hung wavering in the air like glowing weeds in water. Nita snagged the spell, wrapped it back around the charm on her charm bracelet that usually held it, and made sure it had sunk into the charm’s matrix again before she stepped across the boundary line into the gating hex. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Sker’ret hit a control on his console, and Nita vanished.

11: Acceptable Losses