Wizards At War

What flowed into Ponch’s mind—tentatively at first, and then with more assurance as the Winged Defender became clearer about how to communicate—affected Kit in two different ways at once. Half the message came through as a blinding, confusing series of images overlaying one another: light forms and dark ones, strange shapes that seemed to have too many sides, colors Kit couldn’t name. But the rest Kit experienced as Ponch was experiencing it—as scent. And this perception left Kit half dazzled, for Ponch’s sense of smell was endlessly more powerful and complex than any human’s, making Kit feel like a blind person who’s suddenly been given new eyes. The complex of scents was a strange mixture, and Kit could make nothing of it. Against a, unusually strong background of the unique dry gunpowder-smell of moondust, now Kit thought he smelled metal, flowers, strange green scents like those of growing things, a smell like dry cocoa and another one like old motor oil, those two aromas strongly overlaying many more.

Kit was aware that to Ponch, these scents weren’t evidence of concrete things but of conditions, thoughts, emotions. The acrid taste of fear, a distant smoky frustration and anger mingling with that fear, concealing itself within it. It’s not so much that he can smell emotions, Kit thought. From his point of view, emotions are scents. There was information of all kinds buried in the miasma of odors—particularly in one that got stronger by the moment. Kit was unnerved to realize that Ponch had classified this scent as being very like dried blood. But blood on the surface of an old wound. Something that’s not over with yet. Something that’s waiting… Whatever was waiting sizzled behind it all like electricity: powerful, dangerous, yet also suppressed, muzzled—

Kit blinked himself back to the here and now: the powdery gray soil underfoot, the Earth setting over the rim of Spring Lake crater. He looked down at Ponch. Ponch had his head cocked to one side; he was whuffling at the air. Ronan sat back on his heels. “Can you track that?”

Ponch glanced up once more at the Earth hanging low by the crater’s rim. I can find what you’re looking for, he said, craning his neck back to look at Kit and Ronan. But we have to go closer to where it comes from, and get away from where there are so many people.

“How come you can’t just ‘walk’ us there?” Kit said.

Ponch stood up and shook himself. Because it’s a real place with life in it, he said, looking across at Kit. Finding a place that’s already there is different from just making one up. And it’s inside the same universe with us. There are a lot of other places that smell sort of the same way: I have to make sure I find the right one. Once we’re away from here—Ponch looked around and down at the wizards —I can do a lot better.

“Okay,” Kit said. He thought for a moment; then said to Ronan, “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

Let’s hear it, said the other version of Ronan’s voice, the one both older and edgier.

Ronan, Kit said silently, you said your ‘partner’ was going to be able to protect us from being overheard. Are you both sure?

“Yes,” and Yes, they said.

Okay. A custom worldgating from here would be pretty easy for You-Know-Who to trace. Let’s lay a false trail and go out through the Crossings. Some of the wizards here’ll be going that way. And if Ponch’s problem is that all the life here and on Earth is drowning out the scent, then Rirhath B will be a good place for him to try again. Their population’s a lot smaller.

“Makes sense,” Ronan said. He looked down at Ponch. “That suit you?”

Ponch was already wagging his tail. Blue food!!

Ronan looked at Kit, confused. “Am I missing something?”

Kit had to laugh. “Uh, he thinks that when we hit the Crossings he’s going to get a treat.”