[Magic Kingdom of Landover 05] - Witches' Brew (33 page)

The wizard sighed, folded his hands in his lap, fidgeted, and sighed again. “We have a problem,” he said.

Abernathy waited until it was clear that Questor did not know what to say next. “Could you possibly speak more than one sentence at a time, Questor Thews? That way we won't waste the whole day.”

“Yes, all right.” The wizard was flustered. “The book.
Theories of Magic and Its Uses
. I read it last night. Read it twice, as a matter of fact. Made a very thorough study of what it had to say. I think it is what we are looking for.”

Abernathy nodded. “You think? Not very encouraging for those of us expecting a definite yes or no.”

“Well, it's about magic—the book, that is—and magic is never exact. As you know. And this is a book about theory, a general discussion of how various magics work, about their principles, their commonalities. So it doesn't say, for instance, ‘Take the eye of a newt, mix with a frog's foot, and turn around three times left' or some such.”

“I certainly hope not.”

“Well, that isn't a real spell, anyway, of course. But it's an
example
of a specific spell as opposed to general theory. This book is theory, as I said, so you can't be certain about anything until you've tried it out; you can only apply the theory to the situation and be reasonably sure.”

Abernathy frowned. “Why do I not feel reassured by this? I wonder. Why does this conjure up memories of other times?”

Questor Thews threw up his hands. “Drat it, Abernathy,
this is serious! You are not helping matters by making flippant remarks! Please, no more attempts at humor! Just listen!”

They faced each other in stunned silence. The smile dropped from Abernathy's face. “I apologize,” he said, surprised that he could even speak the words.

Questor nodded hurriedly and brushed the apology aside.
Unnecessary between friends
, he was saying. “Theory,” he continued, picking up the thread of his conversation. “The book reveals a theory that I remember from the days I studied under my brother in the time of the old King. It goes something like this. When one magic intervenes to change the result of another, to alter that result in a substantive way, then to undo the consequences of the intervening magic, you must use a third magic to put things back exactly the way they were. So magic one is applied, magic two changes the result, and magic three puts everything back the way it was before magic two was applied.”

Abernathy stared. “What about the consequences of magic one where the consequences of magic two are negated?”

“No, no, that doesn't have any bearing on things! Magic one is already disposed of!” Questor's thin lips tightened, and his bushy eyebrows narrowed. “Are you following me on this?”

“Nightshade tried to kill us with her magic. She failed because another magic intervened, the one that belongs to the mud puppy, we think. Now we have to use a third magic to put things back the way they were. You lose me there. Put what things back?”

Questor's eyes hooded. “Wait, there's more. The second magic, in order to overcome the first and at the same time facilitate the future possibility of its own negation, must use a catalyst, a powerful hook, a peripheral consequence that can't be mistaken for anything
other than what it is. This consequence facilitates the dominance of the second magic over the first. Think of it as a form of sacrifice. In some cases it actually is. One life given to save others, for instance. Pretty hard to reverse that one. Normally the consequence has no meaning in the course of events beyond providing a clear indication of what it is that needs putting back in place.” He took a long breath. “I'm sorry. I know this is confusing.”

But Abernathy shook his head slowly, his face suddenly gone pale. “You're talking about me, aren't you, Questor Thews? Talking about changing me back again from a man to a dog. Aren't you?”

His friend sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“You think that if magic is used to change me back again, back into a dog, then the consequences of the second magic will be undone and we will all be sent back into Landover. Don't you?”

“Yes.”

“That's ridiculous.”

But he didn't sound as if it were, and he didn't believe it, either. Some part of him already whispered that it was so. Some part of him had been expecting this from the first moment he had discovered his good fortune. It was an inevitability that he should not enjoy such luck without consequences, not be allowed to escape from his fate so easily. He hated himself for thinking like this, but he could not help it. Damned by fate. Consigned to purgatory. He had been given a vacation from reality, nothing more.

“You could be wrong,” he pressed, trying to stay calm, feeling desperation begin to build inside already, feeling the heat of it rise along his neck and into his face.

“I could be,” Questor Thews acknowledged. “But I don't think I am. We have already agreed that we were
dispatched to the High Lord's old world to save our lives and because something hidden here would help us find our way back again. The magic that sent us, and whoever used it, would have provided us with the key to our prison. Everything fits into place except your transformation—unless your transformation itself is the key. There is no other reason for it to have happened. It is too dramatic a result to be simply a side effect. It must be something more, and what else is there for it to be?”

Abernathy came to his feet—his human feet—and stalked off. He stopped when he was far enough away from the wizard that he felt alone and stared out at nothing. “I am not going to do this!” he shouted.

“I'm not asking you to!” the other replied.

Abernathy threw up his hands in disgust. “Don't be ridiculous! Of course you are!”

He wheeled about in challenge. Questor Thews looked old and frail. “No, Abernathy, I'm not. How could I? I was the one who changed you in the first place. An accident, yes, but that doesn't excuse what happened. I changed you from a man into a dog, and then I couldn't change you back again. I have lived with that failing, that stupidity, every day of my life since. Now I find myself maneuvered into a position where I am expected to change you a second time. I must relive the worst moment of my life, knowing, mind you, that I still cannot undo the magic's consequences once they are in place.” There were tears in the old man's eyes, and he wiped at them savagely. “I do not mind telling you that it is almost unbearable to contemplate!”

For both of us, Abernathy thought dismally. He looked down at himself, at his real self, his restored self, and thought for a moment what it would mean to be a dog again. He pictured himself anew as the
shaggy-haired, clumsy, laughable creature he had been. He imagined himself trapped inside that alien body, struggling to keep his dignity, fighting every single day of his life to convince those surrounding him that he was as human as they were. How could anyone expect him to make such a sacrifice?
This
was the trade-off for returning to Landover? But he knew it was more than that. It was the trade-off for being alive. Had the mysterious magic not intervened, he would be dead. Nightshade would have put an end to him. To the both of them. And Questor Thews was undoubtedly right, as much as it pained him to admit it. His transformation from a dog back into a man had had a purpose, and the only purpose that made any sense was the one the wizard had revealed after studying the book of magic.

So he could stay or he could go. The choice was his. Questor would not attempt to persuade him either way. The wizard had to live with his own demons in this matter. It was being left to Abernathy to decide. If he rejected the transformation, he was stuck here. Good and bad in that, he supposed. It didn't need detailing. Of course, High Lord Ben Holiday was stuck as well; there would be no help from this end. On the other hand, if he allowed Questor to invoke the magic, he would presumably return in time to help the High Lord. But would he, in fact? Was there some real purpose to be served in going back, or would matters run their course whether he returned or not? If only he knew. It was one thing if by returning he would help save the High Lord and his family from Rydall and Nightshade. It was another if his return would make no difference at all.

He glanced toward the house. Mrs. Ambaum was looking out the window at them, sipping contentedly at her tea. Retribution by nightfall, she was thinking. Still no sign of Elizabeth. Beyond, where the road curved
past the front yard and disappeared over a rise, the sunlight was a hazy curtain through the trees.

He walked back to Questor Thews and stopped in front of him, eyes fixed on the worn old face. “I really don't think I can do this,” he said quietly.

The wizard nodded, face scrunched into a mass of wrinkles. “I don't blame you.”

Abernathy held out his hands and looked at them. He shook his head. “Do you even remember the magic you used to change me that first time?”

Questor did not look up but nodded that he did.

“After so many years. Isn't that something?” Abernathy looked down at himself. He hadn't been changed back all that long, and already he was comfortable with himself in his old skin. “I like myself as I am,” he whispered.

Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. “Breakfast!”

Neither moved. Then Questor waved. “We'll be there directly!” he called. He looked at Abernathy. “I am truly sorry.”

Abernathy smiled ruefully. “Of course you are.”

“I would give anything not to have to tell you this, anything not to have it so.” He bit at his lip.

“If it isn't so, for the sake of argument,” Abernathy mused, “I will be trapped here not as a man but as a dog.”

Questor Thews nodded, holding his gaze this time.

“But it is so. You're sure. As sure as you can be, aren't you?”

The wizard nodded once more, didn't speak.

“I have to make up my mind about this right away, don't I?” Abernathy pressed on reluctantly. “If we are to be of any use to the High Lord and Mistaya, we have to get back quickly. There isn't time to give this a lot of thought.”

“No, I'm afraid there isn't.”

“Why don't you argue the matter with me, then?”

“Argue with you?”

“Convince me, one way or the other. You choose a side. Argue both ways if you like. But give me some issues I can debate. Give me something to dispute. Give me a voice besides my own to listen to!”

“I have already explained—”

“Stop explaining!” Abernathy was suddenly livid. “Stop being rational! Stop being passive! Stop standing around waiting for me to make this decision all by myself!”

“But it is your decision to make, Abernathy—not mine. You know that.”

“I know nothing of the sort! I know nothing at all! I am sick and tired of being ignorant of what is happening in my life! All I want is to be able to go back to the way things were, and I am not being allowed to do that! I am still being required to perform, just as I was when we appeared at that Bumble-whatever festival, only the audience isn't anyone we can see! Why should I agree to go along with this? It would be better just to sit down and refuse to do another thing!”

“Doing nothing is the same as doing something!” Questor was growing a bit heated himself. “A choice is made either way!”

Abernathy clenched his hands in fury. “So it still comes down to the same thing, doesn't it? A choice must be made one way or the other, even if the choice is not really a choice at all?”

“You are babbling!”

“I am trying to make sense!”

Questor Thews sighed. “Why don't we eat some breakfast and then perhaps—”

“Oh, forget it! I'm going back!”

“—things will be a little easier.” The wizard caught his breath sharply. “What did you say?”

Abernathy struggled to keep his voice from breaking. “I said I am going back! I want you to use the magic to change me!” He grimaced at the look on the other's ragged face and was suddenly calm. “It isn't so difficult a decision, Questor Thews. When this matter is over and done, I have to be able to live with myself. If I am required to be a dog again, I can adjust. I can accept it knowing that I did everything I could to help the High Lord and his family. But if I stay a man and learn later that by changing to a dog I could have saved their lives … well, you can imagine.”

He cleared his throat. “Besides, I swore an oath.” For a long moment he looked to be the saddest man who ever lived. “I am Court Scribe to the throne of Landover and pledged to serve her King. I am bound to serve in whatever way I can. I might wish it otherwise just now, but I cannot change the fact of it.”

Questor Thews stared. The old eyes were fierce. “You really are quite remarkable,” the wizard said softly. “Really.”

Impulsively, he wrapped his arms about his friend and hugged him, whiskers rubbing roughly into Abernathy's smooth skin. “Well,” Abernathy said in reply, overcome by the other's response. He tried to shrug his indifference. “Really, yourself.”

They went up to the house to have breakfast with Elizabeth. The three of them sat at the little kitchen table, crowded over bowls of cereal and milk. Mrs. Ambaum bustled about officiously for a few moments as if attempting to supervise in some way, then gave up trying and disappeared out the front door with a promise to be back by noon.

As soon as she was gone, Elizabeth said, “Dad is coming home tonight, flying in from New York.”

“So Mrs. Ambaum informed us,” Questor advised.
He did not look at Abernathy. His friend was eating with his head bent close over the bowl and his hand to his forehead.

“We have to make up a new story,” Elizabeth continued. Her curly hair was damp from washing, and her face was freshly scrubbed. “It won't be hard. We'll just say that Mrs. Ambaum got it wrong, and that you …”