The wizardry cursed, p.27
The Wizardry Cursed, page 27
part #3 of Wizardry Series
“We hope,” Moira corrected. “And in any event, where do you propose to get the time to create such a spell?”
“Oh, I’ve got most of the groundwork done already,” Wiz said. “I’ve been working on it off and on ever since I was rescued from the City of Night. Believe me, there is nothing like being nearly killed a dozen times over to make you think about ways to protect yourself.”
“Voila!” Wiz proclaimed and placed five rings on the table like a handful of jacks.
“They look like something out of a Crackerjack box,” Danny said dubiously.
“Well, as a matter of fact . . .” Wiz began. “Never mind. It isn’t what they look like, it is what they do.”
“They are certainly charged with magic,” Moira said, eyeing the pile of trinkets. “Even in this place they have powerful auras.”
“They’ve got more than that,” Wiz said smugly. “This is a truly tasty hack, if I do say so myself.”
Danny reached out and poked one of the rings with his forefinger. “So what do they do, shoot lightning bolts?”
“Nope, they generate a stasis field. Basically the spell is an amplified variation of that spell we used to stretch out a night and get more programming time while we were working on the magic compiler. Except instead of stretching nights out two-to-one, this spell stretches time out sagans to one.”
“Sagans?” asked Jerry.
“Yeah, you know. Like ‘SAY-guns and SAY-guns of light years.’ “
“Oh, right,” Jerry said, catching the imitation of the famous astronomer.
Moira frowned. “One moment. You say this spell slows down time enormously?”
“Yep.”
“Then how can you move when the spell is active?”
“You can’t. It freezes you solid. But nothing can hurt you.”
“Still, the spell can be broken, can it not?”
“It automatically shuts off when malevolent magic goes away. Kind of like the protective spell I used against those dwarves.”
“So at the first sign of trouble you slip on the ring and turn into a statue?”
“Well, no. We wear the rings all the time. They activate automatically when you’re under direct attack and they stay active as long as you’re in danger. The rest of the time they’re inert.”
“These things are like bullet-proof vests?” asked Jerry.
“More like an airbag in a car. Nothing happens until you need it.”
Wiz passed the rings around and each of them slipped one on. Then Danny turned and held one out to June. But she hissed and shrank away as if Danny had offered her a scorpion.
“June, please.” But June’s face was white and she refused to touch the ring.
“It is not like the enchantment in the elf hill,” Moira said, coming over to her and laying a hand on her arm. “It will serve only to protect you.” Still June shook her head and turned away.
Danny held up his hand to display the ring he was wearing. “Look, if I wear this and you don’t, we’ll be separated if something happens. But if we both wear one we’ll always be together. Please darling, wear it for me.”
Hesitantly June reached out a shaking hand and clutched the ring Danny extended to her. With a sudden move she jammed the ring onto her finger and then jerked her hands back into the folds of her skirt. Danny grabbed her and hugged her to him.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Wiz said a shade too brightly. “There’s another way to turn the ring on and off.”
He held up his hand and mimed twisting the stone. “If you want you can activate the spell by turning the stone in the ring a quarter turn to the right. You can deactivate the spell in the presence of danger by having someone turn the stone a quarter turn to the left.”
“What kind of a moron would want to turn off the spell when he’s in danger?” Danny asked.
Wiz stopped short. “You know, I never thought of that.”
“Feeping creatureism,” Jerry said.
“What kind of creature?” Moira asked.
“A feeping one,” Danny explained. “That’s one that has too feeping many .
. .”
“What it means is that I’ve added features just to add features,” Wiz interrupted. “It’s a spoonerism on featurism.”
“If you expect me to ask you about spoons, my Lord, you will be sorely disappointed. Nevertheless I understand the idea.”
“Yeah,” Wiz said sadly, “and that took more work than all the rest of the spell put together.”
“So now we can continue to work even under the strongest magical attack?” Moira asked, eager to get the conversation back to something that halfway made sense.
“Not under actual attack, but right up to the minute it begins.”
Moira looked down at the ring on her finger. “I hope it works.”
“I hope we never find out,” Jerry said fervently.
Forty: RAID
The drone had come so far south only by accident, cut off from its base by a line of strong thunderstorms and blown well past the point where it should have turned for home. Nevertheless it kept recording what its sensors recorded and transmitting it back to the castle.
There wasn’t much. This part of the island was mostly low hills covered with open forest. It had been hours since the drone had seen anything even as interesting as a herd of animals. Just the occasional bird, a motion in the branches that might be an animal and the mixture of trees and grassy clearings.
The sun was almost to the horizon and the shadows had lengthened and begun to blend together into the beginnings of dusk. The drone was a already headed north, back toward its home when its infrared sensor recorded a patch of anomalous heat off to the right. True to its programming, it turned away to investigate.
A quick scan found nothing in the visual band to account for the heat, no sign of sun-heated rocks or hot springs. The machine was too simple-minded to be puzzled, but it did have contingency programming for something like this. It shut down its engine, switched on its full sensor array and turned to glide over the hot spot.
Beneath the trees and magical camouflage a lone guardsman was shifting the last of his troop’s equipment into a neat pile for transport back to the Capital. He looked up as the shadow swept over him, caught a glimpse of something like a large bird and then bent again to his task.
He didn’t even consider the incident worth reporting.
It took time for the drone’s report to filter up the chain of command at Caermort. Craig had just finished a dinner of magically produced tacos and Coke when the notification popped up in a box on his screen. He glanced at it, frowned, and wiped the grease from his mouth and hands before he hit the key to get more information.
A strong source of IR and magic emissions under what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary hill at the far south of the island. Craig chewed at his lip. That wasn’t that uncommon. There were a lot of centers of magic in this world and some of them had funny effects on the non-magic sensors.
But this magic fell off fast. Right over the site it showed up strongly on the drone’s sensors. As soon as the drone moved off the spot it faded fast. A few hundred yards from the hill the magic was too weak to pick up.
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Craig balled up the taco wrappers and threw them in the direction of the wastebasket. The basket sensed the incoming object, saw that it would miss, and scuffled over to catch it. Craig was too preoccupied to notice.
That kind of fall-off was unusual. Magic usually faded out evenly, following a kind of inverse square law. Still, it was more curious than anything else and a long way away besides.
“Ah, what the shit,” Craig muttered at last. He had plenty of drones and besides, there were a couple of new types of recon robots he wanted to try out.
“Well, that’s the last of them,” Wiz said, looking at the spot where the guardsmen had just winked out.
“Gonna be lonely around here,” Danny said from where he was lounging against the wall. June, who was standing at his side, bit her lip and nodded. Shauna had taken Ian back four or five hours ago and it was the longest June had been separated from her son since he was born.
The storeroom, which had been packed with equipment and supplies, was mostly empty now. The departing guards and staff had taken much of the material back with them. Two of the three residential wings of the complex were completely shut down and only a few rooms in the other residential section were still being used.
“Yeah, at least until tomorrow night,” Wiz agreed absently. Moira had gone back earlier to reorganize the supply effort to fit the new and much smaller operation. Only Wiz, Jerry, Danny, June and the brownies were left in the complex.
And who-knows-how-many gremlins, Wiz added to himself.
“Well,” said Jerry, “now that we’re alone what’s for dinner?”
“Moira left us bread, cheese and cold roast beef in the kitchen,” Wiz said. “I think we’d better enjoy it while we can.”
He looked sourly at the stack of waxed cardboard cartons next to him. Each one was stenciled “Meals, Ready-To-Eat” and a lot of government-sounding gobbledygook. Wiz didn’t know where Moira had gotten them, but he hoped she got back soon with some real food.
Noiselessly the metal spider crept toward the darkened buildings. At the edge of the tall grass it paused, bobbed slowly as if testing the air, and then skittered across the open space to the concealing shadows.
Carefully lifting only one leg at a time it eased its way along the wall, every sense alert for any sign of danger or alarm.
Danger there was none. The building’s spells discouraged animals, kept away insects and were proof against dwarves. But there was nothing to keep away or warn of a robot.
There was a door halfway down the wall. Standing on its hind pair of legs and balancing itself with its left and right pairs, the robot stretched its front pair full out to try the knob. When it found the door locked, the robot retracted its legs and lowered its egg-shaped body to the ground. There it sat, listening intently for several minutes. A sliver of moon appeared through the scudding clouds, faintly illuminating the building. The robot stayed pressed to the ground, looking like a rock and a couple of sticks to the casual observer.
At last the moon disappeared into the clouds and the robot stretched up to the doorknob again. It swiveled its body and a beam of blinding red light lanced out of its underside to trace around the knob and lock.
If there had been anyone in the wing the brilliant light and the smell of burnt paint and scorched metal would have alerted them. But there wasn’t. No one heard when the spider robot wrenched the lock free and no one saw when the thing pulled open the door a crack and slipped through.
It was pitch dark in the corridor, but that didn’t matter to something equipped with image intensifiers backed by ultrasonics. Slowly, carefully the robot moved down the deserted hallways, its front pair of legs extended before it like antennae.
At the end of the third corridor, the spy droid detected a light far off to the right. It eased down the corridor, becoming more cautious as its sound sensors began to pick up voices.
“ . . . and he used Interrupt 21h for error handling!”
There was a burst of laughter and then a second voice started to tell another joke.
Ahead was a doorway letting warm yellow light out into the hall. The robot pressed itself hard against the wall and crept ahead one tentative step at a time, moving sideways like a steel crab.
It paused again at the door and then with exquisite caution it eased a single leg around the corner so the video sensor in the “ankle” could scan the room.
Wiz was sitting in the console chair with his feet up on the console, tearing a bite out of an oversized sandwich. Danny was perched on the edge of the console drinking from a mug and Jerry was over at the table building himself another sandwich.
“ . . . so, anyway,” Wiz said around the half-chewed sandwich, “the
physicist says, ‘First assume a spherical chicken of uniform density.’ “
Jerry roared and Danny broke up in a coughing fit when some of his drink went down wrong.
Very funny, Craig thought as he looked at the image his scout was sending back. Laugh while you can.
Come on, damn you! Wiz stared hard at the computer screen. We’re running out of time! But the twisting, convoluted blue shape looked no different today than it had before.
“I hate asymptotically converging algorithms,” he growled. “The closer you get to the solution the longer they take.”
“If you’ve got a better algorithm it’s not too late,” Jerry said mildly.
Wiz just snorted. “I’m just on edge. It’s a combination of being a little kid waiting for Christmas and the fact that the longer we’re here the riskier it gets.”
“Plus, Moira’s not here,” Danny said from the table where he and June were sitting. “When’s she due back anyway?”
“She said probably late this afternoon.” Wiz swiveled back to the monitor, but the shape still looked the same. Irritably he started flipping through the views, each of which showed three of the shape’s dimensions at a time. But the effect started to give him a headache.
June stiffened and grabbed Danny’s arm.
“Noise,” she said.
“I don’t hear anything,” Jerry told her.
Danny was frowning and listening hard. “I do. Kind of a whine.”
“Are we losing a bearing on the disk drive?” asked Wiz. He bent and pressed his ear to the case. “No, I don’t think it’s coming from there.”
By now the whine was louder.
“I think it’s coming from outside,” Jerry said and all four of them moved to the window.
There was a flash and the window blew in with a roar.
Pieces of glass the size and shape of knives scythed toward them in a glittering rain. But they shattered or bounced off when they struck the four immobile figures. Clouds of dust from the explosion roiled through the empty window frames. But not one of the four moved so much as a muscle.
They stood still and silent as the doors to the computer room flew open and three hulking robots marched in, tracking mud behind them.
Then came Craig in a suit of power armor and lastly Mikey wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
“What’s wrong with them?” Craig’s voice was tinny through the battle armor’s speaker.
“They were like that when I came in.” Mikey looked them up and down and smiled nastily. “It’s a spell of some sort.” He turned his back on the group and went to the computer console. The screen still showed the weaving blue form of the key.
“Son of a bitch,” Mikey said, open-mouthed.
Craig stomped up to peer over Mikey’s shoulder. “What is it?”
“Something that makes this whole business worthwhile. Something that gives us just what we need.”
Mikey smiled. Not one of his half-sneers or tight little mouth quirks, but a big broad smile like a child on Christmas Day.
He left the console and went around in front of the impromptu sculpture garden where he could stare directly into Wiz’s eyes.
“Thanks for the computer. It will save us a lot of trouble.”
He turned to Craig. “Have the robots pack all this up and load it on the ship. Then search the place and grab anything else that looks useful.”
“What about them?”
Mikey looked at the frozen group. “Finish them.”
Craig raised his arm and pointed the laser in his suit’s right forearm at the group. A brilliant beam of red light shot out and played across Wiz and his friends. The wall behind them smoked and scorched but the four statues were unaffected.
“What the hell?” Craig raised both arms and two laser beams converged in a spot of blinding incandescence that moved over the forms. The concrete wall behind them pocked and spalled and the aluminum window frame with its remaining shards of glass melted and ran. But still Wiz and his friends were unharmed.
“Oh shit, just leave them,” Mikey said. “Later we’ll see how well that spell stands up to a nuclear fireball. If that doesn’t work we’ll just drop them in the Sun. But get the computer on board first.”
With one last look at the object on the screen, he left the computer room.
Quickly Craig brought the system down, cursing the clumsiness of his armor’s steel fingers on the keyboard. For a space there was no sound save the clicking of the keyboard. Neither the programmers nor the robots stirred.
Gradually the room began to fill with dense black smoke from a fire elsewhere in the Mousehole. Craig, protected by his armor, barely noticed.
After several minutes the system blinked and died. Craig ordered the robots to begin dismantling and removing the computer. Then he went over to stand in front of the four motionless figures.
“Greatest wizard in the world, huh?” he said to Wiz. “Man, you were easy.”
Wiz did not twitch. Not even the look in his eyes changed.
Craig turned from one to the other, savoring the moment. So this was what it felt like to be a winner, a real winner. He tried to burn the feeling into his memory so he could relive it over and over for the rest of his life.
But why have just a memory? Why not a souvenir to help keep the memory fresh. In fact, why not four souvenirs?
As the robots returned from moving the computer, Craig gave them new orders.
Outside the Mousehole was a ship, a golden cigar shape lying on its side and pressing into the earth. One by one the robots carried their burdens up the gangway and carefully stowed them in one of the holds.
“Okay,” Mikey said as he came back into what had been the computer center.
“Let’s get going. Hey! Where’s Zumwalt and the others?”
“On the ship. I’m gonna build a trophy room and they’re going to be my first trophies.”
Mikey snorted and shook his head.
“Have it your way. Just make damn sure they stay frozen. Now have you got everything? Then let’s haul ass.”
As soon as they were aboard the gangway withdrew into their ship and the airlock doors swung shut. With an ear-piercing whine the golden craft rocked slightly and then rose straight up.
