J. Calvin Pierce, page 22
In a few minutes, Daniel knew, logic was going to force him to go into the bar to see if it was the right place. There seemed to be no other answer. He could continue to look for neon signs, marking any he found on the map. But how stupid that would be if this was the place.
Which, evidently, it was. He sat up behind the wheel. Coming down the street from the far corner was the young man he had seen straddling the chair. Had he walked past the bar and continued up the street, Daniel would have been left in doubt. But he did not. The door to the bar closed behind him. Daniel felt his heart pounding.
He looked at the small slice of the city he could see from where he sat. The buildings, the cars, the stripe of cloudy sky above. He listened to the traffic noise from the avenue, and from the downtown spur of the interstate highway a few blocks away. Yet somehow, a hundred steps from where he sat, people were walking on the quiet streets of Ambermere, far from any thought of engines more complicated than the winch at a deep well or the gears that drove the miller’s wheels.
Now that he knew he was in the right place, Daniel was willing to wait and let things develop. At the least, he would be so cautious as to watch the place for a while before going in.
Ten minutes later a person emerged from the bar who was of great interest to Daniel. It was a woman, old and with the posture if not the height of a drum major, who was dressed in the long dark skirt he had seen worn by so many matrons on the streets of Ambermere. In addition, she sported a hat that could only have been homemade. Daniel was pretty sure that no matter how many worlds, or Regions, or places of any kind existed, this hat was in style in none of them. The woman walked at a brisk pace. She was nearly around the corner before he decided to follow her.
Five or six blocks later she entered a small park. Daniel stayed across the street, watching her make her way down the winding walk. Only when it appeared she was going to be lost from view did he dart across the street and begin to stroll along in her wake. He needn’t have bothered. She took a seat on a bench. Daniel leaned against a tree. The woman sat with her hands folded on her lap and looked straight ahead. She did not move. Her posture as she sat was a reproach to anyone who had ever slouched in a chair. Daniel thought she looked rather like a turn-of-the-century photograph that had been enlarged to life size and taped to the bench. Surely, he thought, she hasn’t come from Ambermere to sit in a park, listen to traffic noise, and inhale exhaust fumes. A noisy truck rumbled past, emitting a powerful diesel stench.
“To wit,” said Daniel.
Besides the truck, the air smelted of rain. Daniel looked up to check the sky. When he sent what he hoped was a casual glance at the bench, he saw another woman seating herself next to the matron. He stared with no attempt at subtlety. It was the schoolteacher-witch. She was not looking in his direction. He forced his eyes back to the clouds above, then studied his cuffs and shoes. He gradually allowed his gaze to drift back to the bench. Both women were looking directly at him. The lady in the hat raised her hand slowly and beckoned.
“I would think you would be just a bit tired of adventures, young man. Not to mention spells and demons,” she said as he walked up. “In the wizards’ bar I hear of you rescuing maidens from towers. Now Marcia tells me you stood with her before the demon. Apparently you are resourceful and courageous, but surely you can’t be enjoying all these trials. Your aura shows no great love of risk. I don’t know why you were spying at the bar, but I must tell you, the people there are more dangerous than they may appear to your innocent eye.”
Daniel took a seat on the bench next to Marcia.
“I believe you, but I am desperate. I have to get back to Ambermere.”
“Why? This is your world. I can imagine you might like the peace and quiet of Ambermere. I certainly do. But there are places here that you can go to. Things in your world are not yet so bad that you need magic to find a place of repose. One or another of these vehicles you people are so fond of can take you anywhere, given a little luck.”
“But not to Ambermere,” said Daniel. “Even though it seems to be just out the back door of the bar.”
Marcia gave an impatient gesture. “Wait a minute,” she said. “What are you two talking about?”
Hannah looked surprised. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know. That’s what I was going to explain to you today.” She looked at the younger woman affectionately.
“In the weeks you’ve known me, you have never asked me where I live. That’s just as well, because I don’t live in this world at all.”
“Are you saying you live on an another planet?”
“Gracious, no. At least, not in the way you mean.” The witch looked perplexed. “You know, I don’t believe I can explain it at all. You must ask the wizards; they love to explain things. I’m just an old witch; we’re much better at doing things than talking about them.”
Marcia dropped her hands to her sides in a gesture of resignation. “The wizards?”
Hannah sent a look of displeasure at Daniel. “Young man, I must say, I wish you had picked another day to follow me.” She put a wrinkled hand on Marcia’s shoulder. “It will all be clear soon enough, child. Don’t worry about it.”
“But what about Elise? Elyssa? Last night, I don’t know what happened. One minute we were standing in the alley, then I was alone in front of my apartment building. Is she a wizard?”
Hannah laughed quietly. “No. Not a wizard,” she said, continuing to laugh. “Forgive me, my dear, but when you meet the wizards, you will see how funny that is. Anyway, wizards are always men. Always.” The witch turned her attention back to Daniel.
“You say you want to go back? Do you mean you want to stay there?”
“Yes, I do. I found … I made a friend there. We were separated. I want to return to …”
Hannah interrupted him. “When you say ‘a friend,’ you are not talking about a pal or a chum, I suppose?”
“A woman. A lover,” said Daniel. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“Young man, you’re very handsome. Isn’t he, Marcia?”
Marcia stuttered inconclusively.
“Oh, never mind,” said Hannah. “Anyway, I must say I still don’t see how you managed to acquire a lover in the short time you were there.”
Daniel started to say something, but was interrupted by the witch.
“Please do not explain. I wasn’t asking for details, believe me.” Hannah noticed Marcia glancing at her wristwatch.
“Are you still wearing that thing? I thought we took care of all that weeks ago.” She shook her head disapprovingly.
“Well, Daniel,” she went on, “have you thought that if you were able to return, you would be leaving everything that is familiar to you? Have you really thought of what you would be leaving behind?”
“Yes, I have,” said Daniel without hesitation.
“You are sure you have weighed your choices carefully?”
Daniel smiled. “I’m a gambler by trade,” he said.
“Of course,” said the witch, nodding. “That should have been obvious; I’m being careless. And tell me, are you certain your lover would welcome your return?”
“Certain? No. Of course not.”
Hannah shifted her position on the bench, moving closer to Daniel, as though to see him better.
“You gamble for a living. Have you ever lost everything you owned on the turn of a card?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have never bet everything I owned on the turn of a card.”
“Then why are you willing to do it now?”
“Pot odds.”
“What?”
“The prize is worth more than the risk.”
Hannah sat back with a smile. “Take this opportunity to study his aura, dear,” she said to Marcia.
To Daniel she said, “And what is the name of this lover? This prize?”
“Modesty.”
The witch looked at him sharply. “The companion to the princess?”
Daniel sat up with excitement. “You know her? Have you seen her? Are they back in Ambermere? Is she all right?”
“Yes, yes, yes, and yes,” said Hannah. “I know her only slightly, but I have seen her. I admit, I had thought she would never suffer a man …. Well”—she turned to Marcia—“so much for telling detailed fortunes from auras. Waste of time, usually.” She frowned at Daniel.
“I can save you the trouble of going to the wizards for help. They will never let you pass by their doorway. As far as they are concerned, you are already where you belong. In fact, for once I agree with them. You should never have gone to Ambermere in the first place. Imagine that trifler, Rogan, trying to summon a demon,” she said indignantly. “Magicians are idiots.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You seem calm in the face of my discouraging talk.”
“I am waiting to hear all you have to say,” said Daniel quietly.
Hannah gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I believe you when you say you earn your living at the gaming table, but I would guess that you gamble very little.”
A trio of huge motorcycles thundered past. Hannah glared at them as though she were thinking of turning the bikers into toads. She waited for relative quiet to return.
“I am willing to do this much for you. I will ask an authority beyond the wizards, and if permission is granted, I will take you to Ambermere. I use the wizard’s doorway because it is convenient, but I can travel by my own paths if I choose. You think carefully about what you are doing, and then if you still want to, come to this place tonight at precisely midnight, prepared to leave, and I will have an answer for you.”
Daniel began to speak, but was interrupted.
“See that you are sure, because this will be your only chance. I am not coming to this place again ….”
Marcia started. “You are not coming back?” she said. “But you are to teach me, I mean, you told me …, You told me I am your adept.”
“No more,” said Hannah. “Now you wear that ring. Have you looked at your aura, my dear? You are no longer an adept of mine.”
“But what am I to do? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, my girl. Don’t worry. You are not being abandoned. Someone will come to you. Probably soon. Do not remove the ring, and do not despair. And you will see me again, if that matters. But it will not be here.” She patted Marcia’s hand maternally. “Now let me finish with Daniel, then we can talk.”
Her eyes locked on Daniel’s. “At midnight, then. But be sure. And be prepared to leave if permission is granted.”
“I am sure, and I will be ready.”
“Then I will see you here tonight. Remember, precisely at midnight. No later. I will not wait. Now go settle your affairs, and leave me to settle mine.”
Chapter 15
Daniel spent the afternoon in his apartment It was clear that he had to proceed as though sure of leaving tonight. If Hannah brought disappointing news, that would be soon enough to worry about it. Until then he tried to banish thoughts of failure from his mind.
It didn’t seem to him that there was much to be done. No suits to pack, no socks to fold. He wrote a letter to his brother in which he spoke vaguely about a last-minute chance to take a lengthy trip, and expressed regret that he might not be back in time for the holidays. He paid his rent for the next month, which seemed only fair, somehow. If all went well, in a few hours the currency of the United States would have no value for him anyway. He went to his bank and made a large withdrawal of cash that he planned to use before he left.
His only other chore was to make an alternative arrangement in case his first plan for the cash went awry. A quick phone call to Charlie was all that was required. The underworld, at least, was still working smoothly.
He had kept the rental car, paying for it, and bribing an employee to retrieve it in the morning. He didn’t want to be at the mercy of taxicabs on a day when his schedule meant everything. By late afternoon he had nothing left to do but worry.
It surprised him, but he felt uneasy. As the witch had said, he was abandoning everything familiar. He found that he was vulnerable to doubts about his prospects and his life in Ambermere. The woman he was so desperately in love with had admitted to no more than affection for him, though her manner and her actions had been much more than merely affectionate. Of the world, he did not know enough to judge accurately. He suspected that he was being too glib, but he told himself that it could not be any worse than this one.
His doubts didn’t really matter, though. He was going, not for the peace and quiet, not for the quaint tile roofs, not for the appealing simplicity of the life. He was going for Modesty, and it was unthinkable not to.
He tried to read and found it impossible. Finally he drove downtown and went to a movie. He watched the tedious succession of car chases, fistfights, and gunplay with a sense of gratitude. This, after all, was the culture he was preparing to abandon. He wondered if Hannah had ever seen a movie.
He forced himself to stay to the end. He occupied his mind with the question of how it had come to pass that movies were accompanied by music. It was such a strange idea that lovers, for instance, could not manage to get themselves into bed, or even participate in a soulful exchange of meaningful glances, without the accompaniment of masses of violins and other musical gadgets.
When the final cathartic hullabaloo had subsided, and all the sidearms had been fired, and all the cars wrecked, and the handsome hero had displayed his profile one last time, Daniel left the theater feeling quite contented, for he had seen his last high-budget, low-brow movie.
He went to the best restaurant downtown and lingered over a light but elegant and very expensive meal. He sampled, with careful moderation, two of the best wines on the list. After dessert and coffee, he moved his party of one to a paneled room, where he smoked a seven-dollar cigar and sipped fifty-year-old brandy.
It was almost eleven o’clock when he got back to the strip. When he was over a block away, he could see Brenda-Lee on her corner, dressed in clothes that looked like they would glow in the dark. When he drove up, she wobbled toward the car.
“Hop in,” he said.
“I don’t know. What for? My boyfriend got mad before. He said we were gone too long.”
“This time I just want to talk to you for ten minutes. Would you just get in the car, please?”
She opened the door. “Okay, but you have to pay me. I might miss a … an appointment while I’m with you.”
“Fine. Get in.” He watched her bend her way into the front seat. He wondered what her clothes were made of.
“Seat belt?” he said. They had gone through this routine yesterday.
“Seat belt!” She glared at him like a rebellious eighth-grader. “Don’t worry about me; I’m not your grandmother. Anyway, my boyfriend says seat belts aren’t safe. He says if you’re in a wreck, the best thing is to be thrown clear of the car.”
“Your boyfriend is a moron. Put the seat belt on.”
“Are you paying for this?”
Daniel sighed and put the car in park.
“Brenda-Lee, I want to give you some money.”
“Sure.”
“No. I mean a lot of money.”
She looked apprehensive. “What do you want me to do for it?”
“I want you to go out of business. I’m going to give you enough that you can go somewhere else, get a place to live, and go to school or get a job or something.”
“What are you trying to do? What kind of trick is this?” Her voice had a panicky sound, as though he had threatened her. She put her hand on the door. “Pay me or I’m getting out.”
Daniel fished a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet.
“Here.” He handed her the money with a flourish. “Now will you sit still, preferably with your seat belt on?”
A roughly dressed man who had been standing near the curb walked around the car to the driver’s side. He thrust a badge at Daniel. “Turn the car off, pal; fun’s over for the night.”
Daniel looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was five past eleven. A police car pulled up beside them.
Daniel tried to explain, with predictable results. By eleven-twenty-five he was at the station house. He made a desperate phone call to Charlie who, despite the highly suspicious fact that Daniel had nearly fifteen thousand dollars in cash on his person, was able to get him out by quarter of one. The park was empty.
Renzel had finished moving her few belongings back to the cottage. The priestess had completely changed her attitude on the subject, insisting that she had never meant to displace Renzel, except for the temporary accommodation of her guests. She had now decided that they would have to make do with the space she could offer them in the house. Renzel, it turned out, was being “too generous” and the priestess had decided she couldn’t permit it.
If Renzel had been of a speculative turn of mind, she would have been completely mystified. But her life had taught her that doing the work and solving the problems that each day supplied was complicated enough already. Making guesses about the motives of her priestess held no interest for her.
In a way, she regretted leaving the house. It was ancient, and had housed the priestesses of the shrine for years past the reach of memory. Despite its new tenant, Renzel associated the place with the old priestess, who had lived her simple quiet life there for over sixty years, moving from room to room like a living ghost. Renzel often imagined her still inhabiting the house and grounds that she had presided over for so much of her life.
The figure silhouetted in her open doorway startled her, but it was her entirely corporeal niece who stood there.
“What’s the matter with Eldyna?” she said, entering the cottage. “She practically bowed when I passed her in the garden.”
“Modesty, please; you mustn’t refer to the priestess with such informality.”
“Sorry,” said Modesty, without detectable contrition.
“My dear, you don’t look well. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Modesty, as her eyes filled with tears.
