Off to Be the Wizard - 2 - Spell or High Water (2 page)

A voice, clearly Martin’s but louder and deeper, shouted, “Silence!” Then, Martin’s normal, much quieter voice addressed Roy. “Look, the training isn’t just to teach you what you can do. It also gives us a chance to learn what you’re likely to do, and if we don’t like what we learn, we will make sure that you don’t do anything. That’s not a threat. We won’t hurt you, except in
self-defense.
We will strip you of your access to the file, that
database
of yours, and send you back where you came from in such a way that the authorities will be sure to find you. Do you want that, Roy? If so, just say the word. I’m your trainer. I can make that happen any time you like.”

Roy squirmed, but the grip of the giant hand didn’t loosen. They looked like a toddler playing with a Ken doll, only the doll didn’t feel like playing, and the toddler wanted to practice his throw.

Martin pushed the head of the giant staff forward until it filled Roy’s field of view.

“Do you want to go back, Roy?”

Roy gritted his teeth and said, “No.”

Martin smiled, but didn’t move the staff. Not yet. In a much quieter voice, he said, “Yeah, I bet you don’t. Few of us come here because things are going well in our own time. Who’s after you back there?”

Roy stared at the giant likeness of Martin’s face until it was clear that he wouldn’t be put down unless he answered.

“The CIA,” Roy said, then after a breath, he sighed and added, “and the Department of Defense.”

Giant-Martin’s face cracked a huge smile. “Wow. I can’t wait to hear that story.” Martin pulled his staff away, but kept Roy
suspended
twenty-five feet above the ground.

“Here’s the deal,” Martin said, at a volume carefully
calculated
so that only he and Roy would hear it. “We wizards have to police ourselves, because there’s nobody else who can police us. Part of how we do it is with the training. You can accept me as your trainer, and I’ll show you how to fit in here in the past, how to use the powers we’ve created, and how to make new powers yourself. When I think you’re ready, you’ll face the trials, and once you pass them, you’ll be on your own, free to do whatever you like, within reason. Don’t accept the training and we’ll assume you’re up to no good, strip you of your powers, and send you back to your time. Perhaps we’ll send you to the courtyard in the center of the Pentagon. Not a lot of tourists get to see that, do they? What do you say, Roy? Do you accept the training?”

Roy shrugged. “Yeah, kid, I’m sorry. I accept the training.”

Martin said, “Good,” as he placed Roy back on the ground. As soon as Roy’s weight was back on his own feet, Giant-
Martin
silently exploded into thousands of silver boxes that flew
outward
, spun in space momentarily, then imploded back in on themselves, leaving normal-sized Martin in their place.

Roy smoothed out his trench coat and looked around sheepishly. “Geez, kid, you didn’t have to get so sore about it. I was just messing with you.”

“Well then you’ve just received your first lesson. ‘Don’t mess with me.’ Did you learn it, or will you need a review?”

“No, no. I got it.” Roy looked at the townsfolk in the square. There weren’t many of them, but the few there were had stopped all activity and were watching the two wizards intently. “Did we have to do that in public?”

Martin said, “Yes. In fact, I put it off until we got here, ’cause I knew there’d be people and plenty of room. I wanted witnesses for two reasons. One: It’s good to remind the locals what we can do every now and then. Two: It was important that everybody know that I’m more powerful than you.”

“Important for the training?”

“Important to me, which as far as you’re concerned, is the same thing.” Martin reached out a hand to his trainee. “You’ll be staying with me during your training. Take my hand. We’ll teleport there.”

Roy looked at Martin’s hand as if he were holding a dead rat. “I’ll just put my hand on your shoulder. That should work just as well.”

Martin thrust his hand toward Roy. “Come on, don’t be a baby. Take my hand.”

Roy put his hand on Martin’s shoulder and repeated, “I’ll put my hand on your shoulder. That should work just as well.”

Martin rolled his eyes, and said, “I can see this relationship is going to take some effort.
Transporto Magazino
.”

Martin and Roy disappeared.

2.

Jimmy walked at a brisk pace. He had a shocking amount of energy for a man in his sixties. That was one of the benefits of spending thirty years riding a bicycle. Another of the benefits was having plenty of time to think. Think and plan.

He wasn’t riding a bicycle now, and if things went the way he expected, he’d never ride one again. It was just as well, since he’d sold his. The day before, Jimmy had watched Martin lead a low-speed chase to his parent’s home, then evade the police by fleeing back in time to Medieval England (where he had caused Jimmy no small inconvenience). Once the police and two conspicuously out-of-place federal agents had left, Martin returned, a few hours later from his parents’ perspective, several weeks later from their son’s, the time traveler. After observing Martin leaving his parents’ house by taxi, Jimmy had ridden straight to the homeless shelter he was using as a base of operations. The fluorescent lights flickered and the TV went wonky as he walked through the shelter’s rec room. He had found over the years that as long as he walked through such areas quickly, his disruptive magnetic field would be chalked up to a temporary brownout. He could get away with this for a week or so before someone would notice that the brownouts always happened when he walked by.

For nearly thirty years, Jimmy had kept moving, both from room to room, and from place to place.

Jimmy retired to the private room he had sweet-talked the management into giving him. He went over his notes by
flashlight
. Batteries and incandescent light bulbs still worked for him. It was only integrated circuits that couldn’t tolerate his presence, which included the ballasts in fluorescent lights.

He’d had a good night’s sleep, then got up bright and early and sold his bicycle to a panhandler for thirty bucks. Jimmy took his newfound fortune to the nearest thrift store, where he purchased the nicest suit they had in his size, a white shirt that only had stains on the back, and a tie that didn’t have any cartoon characters on it. He also grabbed an ancient Samsonite briefcase. He paid cash. He had to let them keep what little change he was owed because the cash register mysteriously stopped working. He changed into his new outfit in the fitting room and dumped the contents of his backpack into his briefcase. He donated the backpack and his old clothes to the Goodwill, suspecting that they’d more likely burn them than sell them, then set out to face the new day.

Jimmy had a plan, and that plan only called for him to look presentable for a few hours. After that, with any luck, he’d be under arrest.

Jimmy walked down the pleasant suburban Seattle street. He’d spent so long staking this street out the day before, he knew it as if he’d grown up there. He hadn’t, of course. Martin had.

Jimmy stopped, checked his notes, made sure he had the right house, then strode up to Walter and Margarita Banks’ door. He glanced at the button for the doorbell, then knocked. Three crisp, friendly sounding knocks. He heard faint sounds coming from inside the well-maintained split-level ranch house. After a moment the door opened a crack. A pleasant dark-haired woman close to his own age peered at him through the barely opened door. The chain lock was still engaged. Jimmy wasn’t surprised. These people had been through a lot the day before, and were probably still pretty edgy.

The woman said, “I’m sorry it took so long. I barely heard your knock. We do have a doorbell.”

Jimmy smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see it there.”

Margarita said, “That’s fine. So, what can I do for you?”

Jimmy’s smile faded the exact amount he had predetermined would convey a sense that he regretted having to bring up the subject he needed to discuss.

“Mrs. Banks, my name is James Sadler, but I’d like it if you called me Jimmy. I know your son, Martin. I’d like to ask you a few questions, and I suspect you’d like to ask me a few of
your ow
n.”

Margarita’s smile froze, and all of the light drained from her eyes. She excused herself for a moment. Jimmy smiled kindly, and told her he understood. She closed the door and called out for her husband. Jimmy heard bits of the conversation on the other side. He couldn’t make out words, but the tone came through loud and clear. Mrs. Banks was upset. Mr. Banks was angry. Mrs. Banks calmed down a bit. Mr. Banks did not. Mrs. Banks tried to soothe Mr. Banks. Mr. Banks responded. Quiet conversation followed. Jimmy took a half-step backward, to appear less threatening. The doorknob jiggled slightly, then there was a moment of quiet, just long enough for both Jimmy and Mr. Banks to take a deep breath.

The chain lock rattled, and the door opened wide. Mr. Banks stood, filling the doorframe. “I’m Walter Banks. What can I do for you, mister . . . Sadler, was it?”

Jimmy bowed slightly; just slightly enough that Mr. Banks wouldn’t notice that he noticed it. “Yes, Sadler. James Sadler. Martin calls me Jimmy.”

Walter Banks made a sucking noise as he thought. Finally he said, “I don’t think Martin’s ever mentioned you.”

“No, Mr. Banks, I expect he hasn’t. We haven’t known each other for long. I’m very impressed with your son. He has a unique combination of intelligence and creativity. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Walter said, flatly. “You still haven’t told me what you want, Mr. Sadler.”

“Of course. Sorry. I’m a bit nervous,” Jimmy lied. “I want two things. I have one question I want to ask you and Mrs. Banks, but before that, I want to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Walter stared at Jimmy for a long time, then asked, “So you’re involved in Martin’s . . .” Walter trailed off.

“Difficulties? Yes. At least, I was once. I know a great deal about it, and while I won’t be able to answer all of your questions directly, I should be able to leave you better informed than you are now.”

After another staring match that Jimmy was careful to lose at the exact right moment, Walter invited Jimmy in.

An hour later the Banks’ front door opened and Jimmy walked out. Walter and Margarita followed him out the door and saw him off. Walter grasped Jimmy’s hand with both of his and shook it vigorously. Margarita gave Jimmy a hug. Jimmy thanked them for their help, and for the sandwich, which he assured them was delicious. Goodbyes were said, and the couple stood for a moment and watched him walk away before finally going back inside.

Nice people
, Jimmy thought.
Martin’s lucky to have them
.

The conversation had gone well. There was an awkward moment early on when they offered to take his jacket and he refused, but that passed quickly. While he wasn’t able to answer the questions they had asked, he had managed to answer the questions they should have asked, and he was gratified that he hadn’t had to lie to them.
The easiest way to mislead people is to tell them the truth,
Jimmy thought.

“What did Martin do?”

“I can’t tell you what he did, but I can tell you that he did not break any laws. What he did was so new, so unprecedented, there just aren’t any laws on the books about it.”

“Did he steal something, or hurt somebody?”

“Heavens, no! Listen, what those men yesterday are after your son for is nothing you’d recognize as a crime. Martin didn’t take anything from anybody. He didn’t claim to be anything he wasn’t. He didn’t do harm to any living thing, except maybe one tree, but it survived.”

All, technically, true. Of course, he had both harmed and taken things from Jimmy, but that wasn’t why the feds were a
fter him.

“Please understand,” Jimmy continued. “I wish I could say more, but all I can tell you is that your son discovered something the government didn’t know about. He examined it to figure out if it really was what he thought it was, and in the process, he came to the attention of the authorities. Now I believe he’s just trying to make sure that he doesn’t cause himself any lasting legal problems.”

That placated Martin’s parents, but what really set the hook was when Jimmy made the observation that Martin had always been a little too smart for his own good. They figured he must know their son pretty well if he knew that.

After dancing around a few more questions, Jimmy asked them his one question, which they eagerly answered, then the next fifty minutes were spent eating sandwiches and listening to stories about Martin’s childhood.

Jimmy reached the end of the street and turned left, taking an extra second to look at the tree that just the day before had been on the receiving end of Martin’s car. It looked like it would be fine.

Jimmy reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper on which he had written the answer to the one question he’d asked Martin’s parents. There was a phone number, and the names Miller and Murphy.

When Jimmy asked for the contact information of the agents who had searched the Banks home just the day before, Margarita asked him why he wanted to help her son.

He thought
, I didn’t say I did
. He told her, “Your son and I had a . . . falling out. It wasn’t entirely fair. I . . . I just want to make things right between us. I owe Martin that.”

All true statements
, Jimmy thought,
and totally misleading. Oh well. She doesn’t need to know that the falling out was over my attempt to kill him.