Wizards At War

“A little,” Nita said, hating to admit it.

Ronan nodded. “It’s the same all over. Well, things are moving already, and we have to be part of it. But I need your help. We need it.”

He looked uncomfortable as he said “we.” That, at least, was in character. “Come on,” Nita said, and led him toward the dining room. Then she paused and turned, responding again to that sun-on-sunburn feeling. “It’s here, isn’t it?” Nita said.

“What’s here?”

“The Spear. You’ve got it with you.”

Ronan nodded. “Thought you might notice.”

Now it was Nita’s turn to laugh a little. “How do you not notice that?” she said, for she’d been present at the forging of the Spear of Light, and had been more frightened by it than by almost anything else she’d seen or experienced during her practice of wizardry. It wasn’t that the Spear was a bad thing: absolutely the opposite. But it was hard to be in the neighborhood of a power of pure goodness for very long. That Ronan could handle the full force of the Spear—had apparently been destined to handle it—made Nita as nervous as the thought of the Power that lived inside his head with him and made dealing with the Spear possible.

“Is it a problem?” Ronan said.

Nita shook her head. “Right now we can use all the help we can get—and that means weapons, too. Where have you got it? In an otherspace pocket?”

“No, in this one.” Ronan reached inside his jacket and came out with a plastic ballpoint pen.

Nita blinked. “That?”

“Mightier than the sword, theoretically,” Ronan said, clicking the point in and out a couple of times. Nita got just the briefest glimpse of a spark of blindingly white fire at the tip of the ballpoint, as if its ink were lightning. “Don’t think I carry it around in its normal shape all day, do you? It’s murder on people’s woodwork.” He slipped the pen back into the inside pocket and went into the dining room past her. “Dai stihó, everybody—”

“Dai stihó,” said five audible voices and one silent one.

Nita stood there watching them all get acquainted with the newcomer. Ronan looked taller somehow. Seems a little late for a growth spurt, Nita thought: Ronan had to be around seventeen now, maybe more. But there was always the possibility that what Nita was picking up was something to do with the Other that lived inside him—a being much older, and far more powerful, than any of them.

She glanced over at Kit as Ronan made his way around to him, and banged a friendly fist against Kit’s. “You don’t look surprised,” Nita said.

Kit and Ronan looked at her, and then at each other, and Ronan raised his eyebrows. “Why would he be?” Ronan said.

“I asked him to come,” Kit said.

Nita’s mouth dropped open. She shut it.

“I was thinking of coming anyway,” Ronan said, “but this makes everything easier.” He glanced around at the other wizards. “And I’m glad to meet you folks, because it seems like you weren’t sent here by accident.”

“No,” Dairine said. “We kind of got that feeling…”

Without warning, Carmela came around the corner and pulled Nita away from behind Ronan, backward and out of sight of the dining room, where Kit had started to ask Ronan something.

“Who. Is. Your. Friend??” Carmela whispered, as Nita regained her balance. “Where did he come from?”

“Ireland. There’s this town on the east coast, it’s called Bray—”

“No, no, no,” Carmela said. “I meant it in a much more existential way. I was referring to his basic, you know, hotness.” Carmela put her head down by Nita’s. “Is he attached?” she whispered.

“In ways it would take me days to describe,” Nita said, “yes.”

Carmela’s face fell.

“But none of them are those kinds of ways,” Nita said.

A smile appeared slowly on Carmela’s face. “Oh, good.” Carmela then strolled back into the dining room in the most casual manner imaginable.

Nita shook her head. Did I think things were getting weird around her? We’re about to set a weirdness baseline the likes of which the planet’s never seen. She went after Carmela.

Ronan had just sat down at the table. The others got comfortable on the sofa or on chairs or on the floor, each according to his kind.

“As I just said to Nita, things are starting to happen already,” Ronan said. “The new ‘young Seniors’ are starting to meet on the Moon, right now. You’d have found out about the gathering shortly from your manuals, or whatever form of the Knowledge you use. But I needed to reach you before you left … because I’ve got access to information that’s too sensitive to be entrusted to the manuals.”

Nita’s eyes went wide.

“Whoa,” Kit said softly.