Part 2 (2/2)
He shrugged. ”I don't want to commit until I know more. Could be restless souls, an astral river, a rip inthe s.p.a.ce-time continuum . . .”
”Don't soap me with the techno-babble, this ain'tStar Trek !”
”I know. I'm serious.”
That's what I didn't want to hear; I hate it when he's serious. It's the only thing worse than when he's kidding around. ”What do we do? It might come back.”
”I wouldn't worry. Nothing got in, did it?”
”Well, no . . .”
”And nothing will without me knowing. I put the usual wards up all around this place soon as we settled in. We're safe.”
”Safe” is often a relative term with Terrin. He s.h.i.+fted away from the window and stooped to pick up his blanket. He straightened, halting in mid-motion, making a face. ”Day-um! My a.s.s hurts!”
”That happened when I took you downstairs.”
”Next time wake me up.”
”I tried. Clem thought rigor had set in. That wasnot your usual meditative state by a long shot.”
”Huh. I'll have to find out about that. See if it has to do with the mist. Are there any other wizards in town? They might know something.”
”I heard of a few at dinner. Don't know if they're real, though. People seem pretty neutral about magic here, but I wouldn't push it.”
”We'll find out in the morning.” He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders again and settled down, cross-legged.
”You're going tosleep ?”
”Meditate. Do some astral-travel to see what's in the neighborhood. Chill out, don't sweat it. We're safe.
Get some sleep yourself, and don't bother me until I wake up on my own.”
I grumped-quietly-knowing more questions wouldn't get me anywhere. Between the leftover adrenaline and the fading beer buzz I was developing a headache. If I lay down now I might make myself conk out before it really kicked in. One last look outside, though. Terrin hadn't locked the window. He was way too trusting at times.
The street was empty. I had a bad feeling it was only temporary.
Morning came too soon. It always does. I almost wish it would tiptoe up, sweet and soft, and give me a gentle little warning of approach, but I'd have only beat it to a pulp.
This world didn't seem to have coffee, but Greta recognized the signs of sore need as I made my waygingerly to one of the common room tables. She brought a cup and poured in some kind of herbal tea alternative. Not the same as a triple espresso, but it was sweet and hot and helped restore me to life.
”No beer for you tonight,” she said with a smile. ”Perhaps some soft cider instead?”
”Yeah, that'd be great. Bet I need the vitamin C, anyway.”
She smiled again; the language spell seemed to be translating my nonsense perfectly. I sometimes wondered how it was at translating the Beatles' songs, if those still rhymed or not. No matter, they were usually a big hit. If the crowd was up to it I might attempt a version of ”Hey, Jude.” It worked best with accompaniment, but sometimes I could get people to join in on the chorus part, clapping hands.
Audience partic.i.p.ation is a must in the business.
”Have you seen Terrin?” I asked. He'd left his blanket on the floor. I'd caught my feet in it when I first staggered awake.
”Went out early. Didn't say when he'd be back.”
He wouldn't.
”He didn't eat anything, either,” Greta added. ”He could use some fattening. Looks poorly, he does.”
Terrin was short and his build on the spare side, a swimmer's bod. When we hit medieval-type worlds the well-fed locals took it as a sign of ill-health. He wasn't much for food unless he was doing supernatural stuff, then he sucked the chow down like a starving bear, so I was puzzled. He'd done a load of magic lately and should have been stuffing his face.
Revived by the hot tea, I charmed a sweet roll of some kind from Greta, then went out to explore a little before lunchtime when I'd have to be back for my act.
The inn's front door was wide open to a bright, sunny lane full of people. Not one sign of that black-fog river. I went around the building to check the window. The shutter was locked fast as I'd left it and seemed none the worse for last night's a.s.sault. No three-toed gouges, dents, leftover ectoplasm, or related supernatural junk had been left behind. I was almost disappointed, as any of that would have proved I wasn't a nutcase. Terrin believed me, at least. I think. I'd have to find him, and see what his astral trip turned up. Time to hit the streets.
My face is my fortune. Its impact on Rumpock's population was wonderfully flattering.
Those who had seen yesterday's show called and waved to me, telling their friends about the singing cat-guy at Clem's. I'd amble over and talk, asking questions of my own, making more jokes, gathering up a parade of kids as I went. Of course I'd have to stop and say h.e.l.lo to each of them as well. They were great, all wanting touch my fur and rub me behind the ears. I never got tired of it.
I love kids. Sometimes they had cute big sisters or single mommies.
After asking around I got directions to an apothecary, the usual place to go to pick up a trail that might lead to a Talent. I didn't have much interest in the magical arts, but did want to eventually get home again.
Terrin and I always made the rounds hoping to find someone with a line on astral maps.
Those are really hard to come by. Our bad luck. The way things work for Terrin is that he ha.s.some control over his travel spell. He can bounce us to physically compatible worlds, keeping clear of spots with poisonous air or all-ocean planets. Except for one place where everyone had these weird b.u.mps all over their foreheads, the people looked like people, dogs looked like dogs, and cats looked like me.
What Terrin had no control over was direction. He'd explained the ins and outs of astral jumps or whatever it was we did, but tech stuff, even the magical kind, never stays in my head very long. I'm more of an artsy-fartsy kind of guy. Sing a song to me and I can remember it. Abstract concepts-and magic is full of those-usually put me into a state of ”Hah? Whazzat?”
So we'd blip out of one place and pop into another, all of it fairly random. Terrin said we were more or less heading in the right direction for home. He'd also explained how he knew that, but I'd forget and ask him again. After the third or fourth time he'd only say ”It's magic, okay?” to get me to lose interest. I had the idea our journey was like Columbus being more or less headed in the right direction for China. If all these other worlds weren't in the way we'd get there. A map would be a big help, the astral kind, which I took to mean it wouldn't be printed out on parchment like some medieval Mapsco.
Terrin said that once we had a map, he could figure how far we had to go and plot our jumps accordingly. It might take awhile since it was usually weeks before the quartz crystals charged back up again. Magical energy levels fluctuated from stop to stop.
Now if we really wanted a shortcut out, a fast exit before the crystals were ready, then gems were the medium to use. Precious gems. They carried a powerful charge naturally, and the bigger and more flawless the stone the farther we could go. But they vanished after the spell took effect. Terrin said they were completely consumed by the energy conversion, whatever that meant. Traveling first cla.s.s is expensive. Quartz was more mundane, but had staying power.
The other problem with gems was coming by them. They're universally hard to find. Expensive.
A couple of times on worlds where magic was a cool thing Terrin would hire out as a wizard to some rich person. He'd take diamonds in payment, then off we'd go. The problem was finding a rich person willing to pay for services rendered. If they were rich enough to afford magic, then they usually had a Talent on call. I'd suggested to Terrin he stand on a corner and hold a sign: ”Will Cast Spells for Gems.”
His reply was creatively obscene.
He's a heck of a wizard, but doesn't know a d.a.m.n thing about carving a niche in a compet.i.tive market.
That, or he trusts in the Multiverse a lot more than I do to provide for us. I'd long ascertained the big M to be unfair, mostly crazed, and possessing of a very warped sense of humor.
It sure explainsmy existence.
<script>