The wizardry compiled, p.21
The Wizardry Compiled, page 21
part #2 of Wizardry Series
“I want to apologize. Things aren’t usually this lively.”
“I should hope not,” Petronus said.
“Quite a display,” Malus said. “Attacked by a swarm of miniature demons as soon as we entered.”
“Oh, they weren’t attacking us,” Jerry assured him. “They were playing a game. The idea is to shoot down your opponent’s fighter.”
“Your opponent’s fighter?” asked Bal-Simba. “You mean those demons were not self-motivated?”
“Oh no. What would be the fun of that? The idea is to outfly the other guy.”
“So each of those—fighters?—was directly controlled by a magician.”
“Sure. At least most of them are. A few were probably drones thrown in to improve the dogfight simulation, but . . .”
“Dogs?” asked Malus. “You call those dogs?”
“Well, no, but it’s called a dogfight you see, and . . .”
“If the creatures who are fighting are not dogs, why call it a dogfight?” The pudgy wizard waggled his finger at Jerry. “Confusion. That’s what this new magic of yours does, it sows confusion everywhere.”
“No, you see . . .” But he was interrupted before he could get any further.
“Fox,” a female voice proclaimed from the other end of the Bull Pen, “that’s disgusting!”
Cindy Naismith came striding down the aisle, eyes blazing, with Larry Fox trailing behind her.
“Jerry, I want you to do something about this right now!”
“Cindy, can’t you see we’re having a meeting?”
“Now!” Cindy demanded.
Jerry turned to the wizards. “Ah, excuse me, Lords.” Then he faced Cindy and Larry. “Let’s go talk, shall we?” and he herded them down to the opposite end of the Bull Pen.
“What the hell is this all about?” Jerry hissed as soon as they were safely away from the inspection party.
“It’s about the so-called user interface this cretin wrote for the front end.”
“The code’s in spec,” Larry said sullenly.
“Spec my ass!” Cindy blazed. “That routine is pornographic and demeaning to women!”
“Pornographic code?” Jerry asked, totally bewildered.
“Here,” Cindy said. “See for yourself!” She turned and gestured to call up the demon. There was a small billow of pinkish smoke above the central table. It writhed and coalesced into solid flesh. Very solid and very pink.
Jerry gaped. “Holy shit!”
The demon was gorgeous, voluptuous and totally nude. A mass of blue-black hair spilled down over her shoulders, her blue eyes were alight with amusement and promise. She smiled at her watchers and ran a pink tongue tip over her blood-red lips in a way that was blatant invitation. Then she stretched and reclined on the table in a way that made her enormous breasts ride even higher on her ribcage and her dark nipples stick out like strawberries.
In the small part of his mind that was not totally occupied by the vision stretched out on the table, Jerry realized that all three wizards could see what was going on. In fact Malus was standing on the bench and craning his neck to get a better view.
“It gets worse,” Cindy said. “You should see the things she does!”
“Yeah,” breathed Jerry. “I mean, no. Of course not!” The demon shifted her shoulders and pointed her delicate toes at him, still smiling.
“Well, it’s supposed to be user-friendly,” Larry said in an aggrieved tone. “Hey, I offered to do a male version. Tom Selleck or something. But noooo, she wants to spoil everyone’s fun.”
“If that’s your idea of fun . . .”
The demon smiled again and scissored her legs in a way that showed off her dark pubic patch.
“That’s enough!” Jerry said sharply, tearing his eyes away from the demon.
“Look,” Jerry mumbled, examining his shoelaces, “this module is supposed to help the user, not distract him. Do some work on that interface, all right?”
As Jerry walked away he heard Danny whisper urgently. “Hey Larry, give me that code, will you?”
“Sorry about the interruption,” Jerry said as he came back to the wizards. “Now, let me show you what you came to see.”
“I think we have seen enough of this—this circus!” Petronus said.
“Quite enough,” Bal-Simba agreed amicably. “My Lord, could you create a demon so obedient to your commands as the ones we saw when we first came in?”
Petronus froze. “I would not demean myself . . .”
“But if you wished to, could you?” he shook his head. “I could not, I know. Have you ever seen a demon so instantly responsive?”
“No,” Petronus finally admitted. “No, I have not.”
Bal-Simba turned to Jerry. “And how long did it take to create that swarm of demons?”
“Hey Danny,” Jerry called out, “how long did it take you to write that air combat game?”
Danny stuck his head around the corner of his cubicle. “Jeez, Jerry, you always assume . . .”
“How long, Danny?” Jerry said inexorably.
The young programmer shrugged. “Oh, maybe four hours.”
“You see,” Bal-Simba said to his fellow wizards. “In less time than it takes us to frame a moderately complex spell, this young one created a dozen demons whose subtlety we cannot match. This shows the worth of the effort, I think.”
Petronus snorted. “Trinkets. A handful of magical trinkets.”
Bal-Simba shifted his bulk and the bench teetered alarmingly. “You would rather they write their spells large for practice? Or released them outside the confines of this building? No, I think their wisdom in making trinkets is manifest.”
“Well,” said Malus, looking longingly down the table toward the spot where the “user interface” had been, “they are certainly accomplishing something .”
“It is obvious they are accomplishing a great deal,” Bal-Simba said. “I think their work should continue unhindered.”
Petronus looked from Bal-Simba to Malus. “Oh very well,” he said at last. “I only hope we do not regret this afternoon’s work.” He rose and bowed to his colleagues. “My Lords, if you will forgive me, my own work presses.” He turned and stalked the length of the Bull Pen without a backward glance.
“I too must be gone,” said Malus. “Unless you have another demonstration?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” Jerry said firmly. “Thank you for coming, Lord.” Malus bowed and followed his colleague out.
“Thanks, Lord,” Jerry said to Bal-Simba as the dumpy wizard pulled the door shut behind him.
“Petronus is firm in resolution, but not subtle in debate,” Bal-Simba said, smiling to show off his filed teeth. “He gave me an opportunity and I took it.” Then he sobered. “Besides, I was afraid of what might happen if we stayed within a moment longer.”
“You and me both, Lord,” Jerry agreed fervently.
Bal-Simba rose and Jerry rose with him. “I admit I had some misgivings, but it did not go badly, I think.”
“I had a few misgivings myself. Uh, we really are making progress. I can show you if you want.”
Bal-Simba chuckled. “Oh, I believe you, Lord. And no, it is not necessary to show me. I trust you and I doubt I would understand half of it.”
Jerry followed the huge wizard to the door lost in thought.
“You look as if you have something pressing upon your mind,” Bal-Simba said as he held the door for him.
“Well, yes Lord,” Jerry said as they stepped out into the courtyard. He sighed. “Look, I know this is a new environment and it’s a completely different culture and all, and I know that even the laws of nature are different here.” He stopped and for an instant looked as if he might cry. “But Lord, this place gets weirder every day!”
Bal-Simba nodded and looked back at the Bull Pen. “My thought precisely,” he said in a bemused tone.
Wiz eased his way down the corridor, hugging the wall and keeping a tight grip on his rusty halberd head. Somewhere off in the distance he could hear the faint drip, drip, drip of water. Dripping water meant running water and running water was likely to be cleaner than the foul musty slop he had found so far. So in spite of his misgivings, Wiz pressed on. It was so cold his breath hung in puffs before him. Short, sharp puffs because Wiz was panting from fear.
The corridor was utterly still and completely empty. Save for the soft dripping and the even softer pad of his own feet there was no sound at all. When he stopped the quiet pressed in around him like a smothering cloak.
Most of the lanterns in the stretch still worked, albeit dimly, holding the dark at bay and leaving the shadows as patches in the corners, to writhe threateningly each time the lamps flickered.
At first Wiz thought the patch ahead of him was another shadow. But it did not shift or vanish as he approached. In the dim light he was almost on top of it before he realized what it was.
In the center of the corridor lay a bloody heap of dark robes wrapped about a thing which might have been a wizard. The head had been smashed like a melon and there was a smear of blood and yellowish brains on the wall beside the corpse. The arms and legs stuck out at impossible angles and the torso was bent backwards as if it had been broken like a dry stick over a giant knee.
Wiz gasped and shrank back against the wall. There were killers aplenty in the ruins, he knew, but nothing he had seen or heard that had the power to take a wizard—or the sheer ferocity to do this.
Then Wiz looked more closely. There was steam rising from the sundered torso, steam from the shattered skull as the corpse gave up its body heat to the surrounding cold. There were even faint wisps of steam coming from the pools of blood surrounding the remains. The wizard had been dead for only minutes. Whatever had done this had to be nearby.
Wiz turned and ran, all thoughts of fresh water forgotten.
Nineteen :
Half-Fast Standard Time
Putting twice as many programmers on a project that is late will make it twice as late.
—Brooks’ law of programming projects
“Good morning,” Karl said as he walked into his makeshift classroom.
The faces of his pupils showed they didn’t think there was anything good about it. Their expressions ranged from grim determination to equally grim disapproval. He didn’t know what methods Moira and Bal-Simba had used to round up the dozen or so blue-robed wizards who were sitting at the rows of tables in front of him, but he had heard hints of everything from cajolery to blackmail.
Well,
Karl thought as he turned back to the blackboard. At least I don’t have to worry about this bunch throwing spitballs. He turned around to face the grim-looking men and women in their magician’s robes. Lightning bolts maybe, but no spitballs.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go back and review some basics.”
“You sent for me, Lord?” Jerry Andrews asked as he knocked on the door of Bal-Simba’s study.
The black wizard looked up. “I did. Please come in and close the door.”
Uh-oh, one of those meetings!
Jerry thought as he complied.
“I wanted to find out if there was any way you can speed up your project,” Bal-Simba said as soon as Jerry sat down.
“Lord, as I told you at our first meeting, this will take time. We have accomplished an amazing amount, largely because you have been willing to let us alone to get on with it. We’re way ahead of any reasonable schedule on this project, but we’re still only about forty percent done. It just takes time, Lord.”
“I know,” Bal-Simba said. “But there have been some, ah, changes since our first meeting. You know that we face the possibility of war with the elves and others?”
Jerry nodded.
“What I tell you now is not common knowledge and I would keep it so. In the past three days we have lost two northern villages.”
Jerry’s eyes widened. “You mean they were invaded?”
Bal-Simba smiled mirthlessly. “I mean we lost them. They are not there any more. Where they stood is virgin forest once again.”
“That’s scary.”
“Perhaps more frightening than you know. Our watchers and other magicians had not the slightest hint that anything was amiss. There was not the least quiver, not a sign that magic was at work.”
“That’s real scary.”
“That is also why I wish to keep it quiet for the time being. But you see why we must have your new magic, and have it soon.
“If we had this we could use it as evidence to help us bargain. Or as a weapon should the bargaining fail. In either event, we must have it quickly.”
Jerry thought hard. Pressure to complete a project early was nothing new and he had been in a few situations where the fate of the company depended on it. But this was the first time being late with a project meant war.
“How fast do you need it?”
“We need it today,” Bal-Simba said. “But the need will be critical in a moon or less.”
“We’ll try,” he said finally. “We’ll try like hell, but there’s no way we can have a working project in that amount of time.”
“I understand,” Bal-Simba said heavily. “Be assured that if it comes to open war we will return you and the others to your World before matters come to a head.”
“Thanks,” Jerry said uncomfortably. “Lord, you do understand that we’re working as fast as we can? There’s just not much more we can do.”
“I do understand that and I thank you for your efforts. Meanwhile, is there anything we can do to make your job easier?”
Jerry made a wry face. “I don’t suppose you could come up with a forty-eight-hour day, could you?”
“Would that help?” Bal-Simba asked.
Jerry froze. “You mean you can come up with a forty-eight-hour day?”
“No,” the huge wizard said sadly. “Only a spell makes a night stretch to twice its normal length. The great wizard Oblius created it for his wedding night. It did not help him for he discovered that his reach exceeded his grasp—so to speak.” He shrugged. “I do not think it would aid us for you to sleep twice as long.
“Or would it?” he asked as he caught the look on Jerry’s face.
“Do you mean,” Jerry said carefully, “that you have a spell that makes time pass half as fast?”
“We do,” Bal-Simba said, “but it does not mean that time actually slows down. The people inside think so, but to outsiders they seem to speed up. Besides, it only works from sunset to sunrise.”
Jerry whooped and pounded Bal-Simba on the back. “Fire up that spell! We just may be able to beat this sucker yet.”
“People do not work at night,” Bal-Simba protested.
“You’re not dealing with people,” Jerry told him. “These are programmers, boy. Programmers!”
Seklos announced his presence to his master by sniffling and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe. He had been showing Dzhir Kar progressively less respect as the hunt for the Sparrow dragged on interminably. Besides, his cold had gotten worse.
“We have lost another one,” Seklos said without preamble.
Dzhir Kar raised his head. “Where? How?” he demanded.
“In the south tunnels. Isk-Nor. Killed like the others.”
Dzhir Kar nodded. So far half a dozen of the Dark League’s wizards had disappeared in the City of Night. Two of the bodies had been found, torn to pieces. Privately Dzhir Kar suspected that most or all of the others had deserted.
“I gave instructions that none were to hunt alone.”
“He was not hunting. He was returning from a trip to a warehouse when he became separated from his companion.”
“You mean he was out looting and found more than he bargained for,” Dzhir Kar said sharply. “I warned you all that it is dangerous to go poking about. The City of Night is no longer ours.”
Seklos sniffed and wiped his reddened nose on the sleeve of his robe. “And I warned you we must be done with your notion and sport and use magic to find him quickly.”
“No! No detection spells. I forbid it.”
“This is absurd! If you wish the Sparrow dead, then let us find him and kill him. “But this constant chasing about wastes our time and disperses our energies.”
“Do you question my authority?” Dzhir Kar said dangerously.
“No master, only your judgment.”
Dzhir Kar glared at his second in command. Under Toth-Set-Ra it would have been unthinkable for one of the Dark League, even the second, to use such language to the leader. But Toth-Set-Ra was dead. Dzhir Kar did not have his predecessor’s power.
“I will consider what you say,” he said at last.
“Consider this also. There are those who grow restive. The deaths and disappearances of their fellows upset them. All are cold and hungry and many wonder if the prize is worth the effort. Today they grumble quietly. But soon they will do more than that. We must either find the Sparrow or call this off and do one or the other quickly.”
Dzhir Kar nodded and waved dismissal. The wizard bowed and, still sniffling, backed from the room.
After Seklos left, Dzhir Kar sat for a long time with his head bowed and his hood pulled up around his face. His lieutenant was right, the deaths and disappearances had made the other wizards nervous. If something was not done, he would have a mutiny on his hands—probably led by Seklos.
His position was anything but secure and he and Seklos both knew it. Unlike Toth-Set-Ra, who had a powerful slaying demon at his beck, or the councils which had ruled the Dark League by playing off the shifting factions, Dzhir Kar ruled by the force of his personality alone. As long as he led the Dark League to success, or at least kept it out of major trouble, he would remain in power. But this business had occupied far too many of his wizards far too long in something both boring and dangerous. If that did not change quickly, the Dark League would have a new leader.
He had promised the Dark League that this would be a simple task. Use the turncoat northern wizard to lure out the Sparrow, rely on the homing demon to neutralize the Sparrow’s alien magic and then kill him quickly. On the strength of the League’s hatred for the Sparrow and the demonstration of his demon, the League wizards had agreed to his plan.
