Nightlord: Orb (16 page)

They never said a word the whole time.  They watched and stayed out of the way.

Once assured the fridge was in good working order, I climbed down and paused at the main door to the barn.  I shouted up to the loft.

“When the milk runs out, put the bottle in the bucket by the back door!”

Then I went back into the house.  They were now aware I knew they were out there.  Whether or not that was a good thing, from their point of view, was an open question.  I heard Gary’s electric guitar much more clearly from then on, though.  That was not a good thing.  I also realized I’d have to pick up some buckets of various sizes for Luke.

Maybe he has a drum set at home.  He might move it, now that they won’t worry about me finding out.  We’ll see.

Later, after dark, I noticed the plastic milk bottle in the bucket by the back door.  I took a full one up to the loft and checked on Bronze and her charging spells.  She was doing well and her spell seemed to be holding at a fixed level.  Bronze isn’t only a flammivore—yes, it’s a word.  I refer you to Professor H. Dumpty, of Wonderland—but also a thaumivore.  She eats flammables and thaumaturgic energy.  The energy in her personal zone was holding at the same level; Bronze was siphoning off everything the zone took in beyond that.  Which, really, was what the thing was for…

Since it was after dark,  I smelled my visitor before I saw her.  Perfume, hair conditioner, makeup, sweat, deodorant, synthetic fabrics, and some leather—all the scents of a modern woman.  I was glad I was wearing my own makeup; I don’t step foot outside the bathroom without putting my face on.  I still need to get those contact lenses, though.  Mental note.  At least I had my sunglasses.  I put them on.  Weird is better than inhuman.

“Mister Smith?” she called.  I realized then I’d forgotten to turn on the lights.  It’s an easy mistake to make when you can’t see darkness.  She stood in the doorway, framed in moonlight, trying to see.

“Hello, Veronica.  You know you’re trespassing,” I observed.

“It’s important.”

“If you’re still wearing a wire, for legal reasons please be aware you’re a trespasser and I feel threatened.  I will defend myself.”

She paused.  I could see her spirit ripple with a series of emotions.  First surprise, then a quite reasonable fear.  For all she knew, I had a pair of six-shooters and itchy trigger fingers.

“I’m not wearing a wire,” she assured me.

“You expect me to take your word for it?  Besides, for all I know you have a horse pistol in that handbag.”

She raised one hand, gestured, and spoke a phrase.  I half-recognized some of the sounds as the verbal equivalents of the local magical alphabet.  A ball of light, about the size of a golf ball and glowing like a Christmas tree light, rolled through the air and hovered over me.

“Will you talk with me now?” she asked, smiling.

I snapped my fingers.  The light burst into sparks and vanished.  So did her smile.  I regarded her more intently, shifting my vision specifically to look for magic.  It’s kind of like that trick I did when I was human and looking for a particular color.  If you’re after, say, a red jellybean in a mixed bowl, you shift your vision to highlight the red.  This sort of thing is like that, only orders of magnitude greater.

She was wearing more than one spell.  That wasn’t surprising, it was shocking.  In
this
day and age?  In this magic-scarce environment?  Nothing leaped out as overt or powerful, but the fact of their presence spoke volumes.

“Give me a good reason to talk with you,” I suggested.  “So far, you’re still a trespasser.  And if your friends close in, you’ll discover how I’m armed and whether or not I actually planted land mines.  So tell them to back off.”

I didn’t sense anyone close by, but she had friends with her earlier.  It was only a guess, but it was a good guess, and worth a try.

“I’m alone.”

“Who lied to whom?  You to me, or them to you?”

She cocked her head at me, thinking.  She took a step back, outside the barn door, and glanced to either side.  Her face betrayed nothing as she said something under her breath.  It sounded like “He knows you’re there.  Back off.”  I didn’t hear a reply.

I examined the spell along the side of her head.  It resembled a scrying spell in some ways, but seemed only to transfer vibrations, not light.  Not too complicated, come to think of it, but more power-intensive than a vision spell.  A magical headset!

Why didn’t we use this sort of thing in Rethven/Karvalen?  Possibly because they developed spells to see far away, first, then their talking spells evolved from that.  Still, anyone who wanted to make a telephone spell wouldn’t have a hard time, but they don’t think that way.  Almost everyone is more of an “accept ancient authority” mindset than a “let’s make it up!” sort.  If the Elder Magicians created a spell, we should go find it, not fool around with inventing one from scratch.  Even wizards are vulnerable to that type of thinking.  If they find an especially effective spell, they tend to memorize it and be done with it.

“That’s better,” I said.  “Now, maybe you’d like to explain why you’re on my property without my permission?  You know, all the usual stuff.  Who you are, who you work for, why you’re here, what you want, all that.”

“That’s rather a long list,” she purred, smiling.  Her posture shifted subtly into a more relaxed stance.  She played with an earring, smiling at me and biting one corner of her lower lip slightly.  Doubtless, any man alive would have considered her, if not for Miss Right, at least Miss Right Now.  I found it artistic; she would have done well as a piece of sculpture.

I also felt the prodding of a mind-affecting spell.  It was easy to see she set it off from her earring.  A glamour, a charm—something designed to make me more agreeable.  The only problem, from her point of view, was it relied on human reactions to her.  It enhanced her sex appeal, made her more attractive.  Against anyone
living
, it might work.

“Perhaps we could go inside and discuss it?” she suggested.

“Or you can have a seat right here and explain,” I replied, ignoring her sexy pose.  It was nighttime; I was dead.  Necrophilia doesn’t work in reverse, thank you.  Instead, I kicked a work stool in her direction.  “You have earned zero goodwill and at least two counts of animosity already, what with your attempts to influence my mind.  You also do not barge into someone’s home.  Not unless you are prepared to immediately get into a full-scale conflict.

“Now, you’re either too stupid to realize you’re a failure as a seductress or too vain to accept it.  Your only remaining hope of having a civilized conversation depends on you putting on your professional and businesslike face, followed by direct, informative answers.  If you’re not prepared to do that, come back some other day when you’ve scrubbed off your makeup and are wearing sensible shoes.”

Veronica clouded up immediately as I spoke.  She was still beautiful, but it was somewhat spoiled by the way her face contorted.  I wondered if a man had ever told her she was stupid or vain.  Since she obviously had some magical training and talent, it might not have ended well for him, no matter how comfortable the lily pad he now occupied.

“You think you have power, don’t you?” she seethed.  “You arrogant bastard!  You have no idea what you’re dealing with!”

“You’re right,” I agreed.  “That’s why I’m willing to listen to you, cliché threats and all.  Now, either act like an adult and a professional or go tell whoever you work for that you failed your diplomacy skill check.  I don’t care which.”

“You don’t give me orders!”

“And I don’t hit ladies, either, but I have dismembered a screaming bitch.  Want to see how far off my land I can throw you?  Would you rather bounce or skid?”

“You—!”

“Hey!” I called, loudly.  “If you can hear me, can you please tell her to grow up?  Or switch places with her?  I need someone who knows their manners, please!”

Veronica’s face went through a series of changes.  She looked as though she was about to speak a couple of times, but finally settled down to a seething glare.  It was a good glare, and I’ve been skewered by several.  She stalked off into the night.  I thought she was a little awkward in those heels.  Stylish, certainly, but not practical.

I climbed up on Bronze and waited.

Firebrand?
I thought, directing the impulse into the house.

Yo.

What’ve you got?

Nobody.  If there’s anyone around, they’re being cagey, Boss; I couldn’t even hear her side of the conversation.  But I have an idea.

What?

I bet I could blast flame enough to shoot right up this chimney.  Think you could catch me?

I’m sure I could.  What would that do to the living room?

…nothing you’d consider good,
Firebrand admitted, reluctantly.

We’ll try that later
, I told it. 
Preferably after I get some blast deflectors worked out.  And an automatic fire system.

An automatic fire system?  I can hardly wait!

An automatic fire
extinguisher
system,
I corrected.

Aww, that’s no fun.  But what about right now, Boss?

If it comes down to it, maybe.  I’m still not sure this is going to be a fight.

Sneaky people on your land isn’t going to end in a fight?

Maybe, I said.  They don’t seem overly hostile, but I don’t know why they’re bothering me.  Like you said, they’re being cagey, and that makes me feel threatened.  I want to find out what they want, at least, and preferably without getting my mind invaded.  So keep alert for anyone who isn’t shielded.

On it.

Bronze turned her head to look at me with one eye.  I shrugged.  She went back to looking ahead.  She was ready to play the part of a statue indefinitely, if necessary, or to explode instantly into violent movement.  We were ready; we waited.  In the silence, I heard quiet footsteps approaching.  They didn’t seem especially stealthy, though; just someone walking.

The someone cleared a throat at the door.  A hand waved from one side.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Ah, you are still in there.  I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure.  My name is Victor Stuart.  I’m Veronica’s brother.  Would you mind if I came in?”

“You’re trespassing,” I observed. “Just so we’re clear on where you stand, legally.  If you want to take a seat and explain your presence, I’ll permit it.  Bear in mind I feel threatened and will not hesitate to defend myself with lethal force.  You’ve been warned.  And it goes for everyone else outside, too.”

“Yes, of course. You’re being cautious.  I understand.”  Victor stepped carefully into view, arms down at an angle to put his hands out from his body at about waist height, fingers spread wide.  He did look a little like Veronica in a family resemblance sort of way.  He was one of the men in the car, I felt sure.  I ran tendrils over him, lightly, identifying an audio spell and one to shield his mind from outside influences.  I also found the gun in his shoulder holster and two heavily-charged magical sources—his wristwatch and what was probably a class ring.  They seemed to be spells, ready for activation, but analyzing them would take more time and attention than I had right then.

“I’m afraid I can’t see you,” he said.

“I’m strangely okay with that.  I’m wearing low-light glasses, myself,” I lied.

“Oh.  Well, I suppose this will work.”  He moved to the stool I’d kicked toward the door, righted it, sat down on it.  “Is this all right?  I’d rather not do anything to offend.  Anything more, I mean.”

“That’s fine.”  Since he hadn’t mentioned or reacted to my tendril-touch, I ran my psychic tendrils out through the walls of the barn and felt around outside.  There was no one within easy reach—call it fifty yards or so.  I remembered to slide them up the exterior of the barn, too, checking the hayloft and the roof, as well.  I’m learning to check above, as well as around.  I can be taught; it only takes a sledgehammer and patience.

“First, I apologize for my sister.  She’s usually quite good at opening an initial dialogue.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Right.  Now, to business?”

“By all means.”

“My family, among others, has a natural talent for manipulating esoteric forces.  I tell you this because it is obvious you have similar talents.”

He waited for me to respond.  I didn’t.

“Um.  Well, we’ve noticed some rather… profound disturbances in the local area.  We’ve managed to triangulate on them and they seem to be centered in your house.”

“And?”

“Would it be possible to examine these… disturbances?”

“What for?”

“They seem to be extremely powerful, and it’s compromising our ley line maps.  We’ve never seen this before, so I don’t know what to call it.  It’s worrisome to parties who manipulate such forces.  There’s some concern that a breakthrough from… some sort of infernal influence might be involved.”

“That’s your big problem?” I asked.  “You want to make sure that I’m not about to accidentally—or deliberately—summon up a fiery monster, or open a portal to a pit of burning sulfur?”