Pathspace: The Space of Paths (25 page)

So why were his eyes watering so much? Must
be something wrong with the air in here.

He sat down on the cot again and thought
about Xander. The man didn't seem to care about money or fame or
even whether anybody liked him. All he wanted was to establish his
school for wizards, – or as he had called it once, “parascience
technicians”. And why was the school so important? Not to make
Xander famous. He'd wanted it for the sake of a fallen world, a
fallen civilization. He'd wanted to create what the Tourists had
failed to give to Earth – the technicians who could create and
maintain the Gifts, so that a new civilization could arise, instead
of a thousand little countries fighting wars over dwindling
resources.

And now that he was gone,
that dream would die with him.
I can't start the school
without him. I don't know all the things he knew.
I'm only just started on my apprenticeship, learning how to
be invisible, the first application of pathspace. I don't know
anything at all about the other two things h mentioned, spinspace
and tonespace. And without Xander, I probably never
will.

In fact, he would probably
rot away in a Texas prison. Unless of course he was useful to them
somehow, useful enough to be let out occasionally.
Useful
to the men who killed Xander?
The hell with
that.

His stomach
growled.
Who am I kidding?
he asked
himself. All they have to do is wait until I'm hungry enough to
cooperate. Then they can probably buy me for a crust of bread and a
glass of water.

He heard a metallic sound. Someone was
unlocking the door. It swung open and a man who looked to be in his
mid forties entered the room with a younger man who had the look of
a guard. At least they did not appear to be carrying anything
painful-looking.

“
You're in Dallas,” the
older man said. “That'll be your first question, so we might as
well get that out of the way.” Someone outside the cell passed in a
a chair and the man seated himself. “Your second question will be,
who am I, and the answer is, I am the Honcho.”

“
My third question is why
do you do your own interrogating?” said Lester. “Don't you trust
your underlings?”

The older man nodded. “Yes, that would be
your third question. I figured you would be smart enough to skip
the stupid questions like, 'why am I here?' and so on.”

“
What made you think that?
For all you know I am a complete idiot.”

“
I doubt that,” he said,
smiling. “My men report than you showed up with the wizard, and
that implies that you're his apprentice, since I've never heard of
you. He was not the kind of man who takes on fools as
apprentices.”

Lester felt a lump in his
throat at the man's use of the past tense.
Was.
“Okay maybe I'm not an idiot. Obviously you're
not here to answer questions, but to ask them. What makes you think
I'll tell you anything useful?”

The Honcho sighed. “Here is where it gets
awkward. I could, of course, starve you into submission. You'd be
surprised what a man will disclose when he's hungry enough.”

“
If you're threatening me,
you're too late. I'm already hungry. On the other hand, you
could
feed me and see what gratitude will
buy you.”

He laughed. “Sometimes the actions of
soldiers,” he said, catching Lester's gaze with his own, “may lead
people to presume they come from a land of savage barbarians. But
we are not barbarians here in Texas.” He turned to the guard.
“Bring something to eat, a double portion.”

“
Sir?”

“
You heard me.”

The man was plainly uncomfortable. He
fidgeted as he answered. “Sir, begging your pardon but I can hardly
leave you alone with the prisoner! Wait a minute, and I will summon
another guard to – “

“
Corporal,” said the
Honcho. “I
will
be obeyed. Go and
bring the food. You can lock the door behind you. I hardly think
our guest is going to attack me on an empty stomach.” He turned
back to Lester, smiling. “Are you?”

“
Of course not,” Lester
said. “Considering my situation, it would be rude, as well as
unwise.”

“
There you are. Hurry
back. I confess I'm hungry myself. Go on.”

Lester heard the sound of the key turning in
the lock, then footsteps growing fainter.

“
I am sorry your wizard is
not with us,” said the Honcho. “I would have preferred it so, for I
suspect it would have been to our advantage to have had his
participation in this conversation.”

Lester's eyes burned. “Well, you can thank
your men for his absence. He wouldn't have shot anyone in the back
like they did. He knocked Brutus out, but that's all.”

“
I am sorry that
happened,” said the Honcho. “There is nothing I can do about that.
To be fair, your wizard was a dangerous man, when he wanted to be.
After all, he had captured the men once already.”

“
Yes. Without killing any
of them.”

“
Point taken. Had I been
there, things might have gone differently. But I was not. I'm
told,” he said, changing the subject, “that they clouted you on the
head on the way here. Also regrettable, but soldiers here do tend
to get paranoid about wizards.”

“
I'm no wizard,” Lester
told him. “Just an apprentice.”

“
Ah. I suppose they
couldn't tell the difference. From what I've heard, you haven't
been in training very long, have you? I thought not. But they
didn't know that, you see.”

A minute later he heard the key turn in the
lock again. The guard reentered the cell carrying a tray with
bread, sliced beef, yellow cheese, and a pitcher of water with two
glasses.

“
Set it down there,” said
the Honcho, pointing to the middle of the floor, “and then go stand
watch outside.”

Lester stared at the tray and his stomach
rumbled. He was tempted to snatch at the food, but he scooted back
to the cot when the Honcho produced a knife.

“
I want you to know the
food is not poisoned or drugged,” the Honcho told him, “because if
you thought it were, you would naturally refuse it. And you'll need
your strength. So here's what's going to happen.” He picked up the
bread and cut off four slices. “I'm going to make us two
sandwiches, and you pick one. I'll eat the other.”

In less than a minute he had piled slices of
beef and cheese on two pieces of bread and covered them with the
other two. Then he slid the tray toward Lester. “I let him know I
was hungry too so they wouldn't try anything. Go ahead, it's
grass-fed Texas beef, the best in the world. Pick one. Hurry up, I
wasn't lying about being hungry.”

Lester reached out at
random and seized a sandwich. So did the Honcho. Lester waited for
the other to take a bite first. Then he watched the Honcho swallow
and pour them both water out of the pitcher. “Do you trust your own
men? How do you know they won't poison
both
of us?”

The Honcho nearly choked on his second
mouthful. He swallowed, laughed, and wiped a tear from his eye.
“Son, you don't know Texas men, to ask something like that. My men
might be crude. They might even sometimes do things I don't exactly
feel proud of. But they are not disloyal.”

Lester thought about that, then decided he
could risk eating his sandwich.

“
You won't be tortured
either,” the Honcho told him. “But I'll trade you. I'll tell you a
truth, then you tell me one. I'll go first. Did you know I wasn't
my father's first choice to succeed him?”

Lester shook his head.

“
It's true. I used to have
an older brother, Francisco. Frank was going to be the next Honcho
after my father. And he had grand plans. Our father didn't know it,
but Frank disagreed with him on a few things. The most important of
these was how to reunify the continent. How to bring
peace.”

“
I've seen the kind of
peace your soldiers bring,” said Lester. “It wasn't
pretty.”

The Honcho took a bite out of his sandwich
before answering. “The flower of peace,” he said, “grows out of
soil prepared by brutal men of war. It's always been that way. The
ancient Romans had to conquer and subdue many peoples to bring
their Pax Romana, their Roman peace. Empires expand with war at the
borders, peace within them. Only a strong and wise parent can stop
children from squabbling.”

“
Is that what your brother
wanted?”

“
Frank was an idealist,”
said the Honcho. “He thought the way to establish peace was by
treaty, by negotiation. But Lincoln had already learned that
approach is a waste of time.”

“
Lincoln?”

“
He ruled America,
hundreds of years ago, long before the Tourists came. When he came
to power half of his country split off and declared itself
independent of the Union. Do you think he brought them back by
negotiation?”

“
Since you're using him as
an example, I'm guessing he didn't.”

“
He did not. He fought a
bloody war that lasted five years to conquer them. And then there
was peace again. But only after a lot of Americans on both sides
died.”

“
But your brother didn't
follow his example?”

The Honcho sighed. “I'm afraid not. Frank
sent out ambassadors with his proposition: a central government of
elected representatives. Something similar to what I imagine your
own Governor would like to try.”

Lester finished his sandwich. “And what
happened? Did they respond?”

The Honcho looked down. “Yes,” he said. They
responded. But not the way Frank had hoped. The Dixie Emirates to
the East laughed and said they didn't need our beef, they already
had cows. New Israel in the Northeast sneered and said they didn't
need our oil, they already had coal. The Kingdom of Deseret to the
Northwest chuckled and said they didn't need our Church, they
already had a religion.”

“
What about Californ? Did
they respond?”

The Honcho's eyes glittered. “Yes, they did.
The Queen of Angeles invited Frank to come talk about it. Our
father advised against it, but Frank rode off into the sunset,
intent on showing his father that things could be done
differently.”

“
And what
happened?”

The Honcho caught Lester's gaze and his eyes
would not let go. “She sent back his head, with a note. It said,
quote, thank you for the entertainment, he was most amusing,
unquote.”

Neither of them said anything for a
moment.

“
I'm sorry you lost your
brother,” said Lester.

“
He was a fool,” said the
Honcho. “But I learned from his example. Peace will not come from
letters. It will only come from the sword.” He finished his
sandwich. “You probably think I have some kind of grudge against
your Governor of Rado.”

“
You do seem to fight a
lot of wars with us,” Lester said.

“
It's nothing personal,
son. I'm aiming at the same thing that she is: unification. We have
to stop fighting each other and get together if this civilization
is ever going to rise again. The only difference between her and me
is, I have a more practical approach. I'm willing to use the sword
to bring peace.”

“
And Californ? Are you
going to bring them peace too?”

The Honcho's eyes appeared to blaze with
intensity. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I'm going to pacify the hell out of
them.” He was silent for a moment. “Your turn,” he said. “Tell me
something about yourself. How did you end up with the wizard?”

Lester decided there was no harm telling him
that, since Xander was dead. “He came to my village, on the coach,”
he said. “At first I thought he was just an old man.”

It was just after noon when he left the
prison. When he arrived at his headquarters, he stopped at the
infirmary on the third floor to check on Brutus.

“
He's got a concussion,”
the medic told him. “He should be okay in a day or two. We've had
him under observation, but so far there seems to be no sign of
permanent damage.”

“
Can I talk to
him?”

The man shook his head. “I wouldn't
recommend it. We still have him on poppy extract for the pain, so
he drifts in and out of sleep. He'll recover quicker if you let him
rest.”

“
All right. I'll be back
tomorrow.”

A courier intercepted him on his way to the
stairwell. “Message from Quintus, sir. He says this came in while
you out this morning.”

He accepted the envelope and opened it. The
message inside was brief, only seven words: WE KNOW WHERE THIS
PLACE IS NOW.

He scowled at it. Stupid and redundant.
Naturally Aria would have told them where the access point was. He
already knew from Jeffrey that she had gotten away, thanks to the
wizard's intervention. But they had to have their little joke.

We'll see who gets the last laugh.

Jeffrey was waiting for him outside his
office. “Where have you been?”

“
Visiting a prisoner,” he
said, opening the door. “Why? Did I miss something?”

“
We have to talk about
Brutus,” said Jeffrey, following him in.

Peter sighed. “Let it go” he said. “We have
more important things to worry about.”