The Crossover (5 page)

Chelinn shrugged. “I’m not proud of killing him,” he said. “But as you say, noted Robinson, he deserved it. And you saw that I do not kill wantonly. His friends live on, and I would be surprised to hear from them further.” He chewed one of the sticks that the merchant called “french fries”—it was supposed to be a piece of potato, but tasted mostly of salt and oil—then turned to Lodrán. “If I didn’t know you… well, you’ll eat anything.” He opened his “burger” and stared at the supposed meat inside.

Lodrán returned the shrug. “In my youth, I had to eat anything or starve. Ak’koyr is unkind to its impoverished denizens.”

“Why do you keep calling me
noted
?” the merchant asked.

“It’s an honorific,” said Chelinn. “How does one address his employer in this world?”

Chuck thought, then laughed. “Oh!
Mister
Robinson. But just call me Chuck, okay? I’m not used to—to that.” He cocked his head. “How did you stop those bullets? They didn’t even hit your armor!”

“It was a projectile weapon, thus vulnerable to a simple spell of protection.” Chelinn shrugged. “The same spell I would use to stop an arrow or a thrown spear. Spells of protection are among the first a young sorcerer learns. Is that not so here?”

“There are no sorcerers in this world,” said Chuck, “not real ones, anyway. We’ve got Kevlar for stopping bullets, not magic. But if I didn’t see you… flash-freeze that dude, I’d figure you were still role-playing.” He scratched his head and reached for the last burger; Lodrán handed it over with a sigh. “You guys are the real deal, aren’t you?”

“This is no jape or jest,” said Chelinn. “I see now. The use of magic has long faded in this world, no longer needed as your wondrous devices have taken its place. It is naught but legend, I suspect. This
Kevlar
is a kind of armor, no? If it stops the projectile, then that particular spell is unneeded.”

“If you have it,” said Lodrán. “Those of Termag fortunate enough to have armor at hand—or a sorcerer—survive the arrows and spears. Those who do not…” He shrugged. “I suppose it is the same here.”

“Pretty much.” Chuck chewed his burger with growing enthusiasm. “I must be getting over the shock, because now I’m curious. Why did you use a freeze spell on that guy?”

“The Principle of Necessity,” said Chelinn, passing the rest of his french fries to Lodrán. “Had I simply cut him down, there would have been a bloody mess to clean up. You said the authorities here would frown on that, so using magic was necessary. Same with fire—not a wise choice in an enclosed space in any case. Ice was too clean a death for that
bowgnoash
, but as I said I had your property to consider. Hell may thaw him if it wishes.”

“What was that word you called him just now?”

“Ah,
bowgnoash
? It’s from the goblin-tongue. Its literal meaning is something unfit to eat. If you knew what food goblins consider acceptable, you’d understand how bad it has to be. They also use it to describe those of their own kind that they would disown, which is how I used it here.”

“Oh.” Chuck looked at his burger and put it down.

“This is all well and good,” said Lodrán, talking around the last of the french fries, “but night is coming on, and we need to find a place to stay. An inn, perhaps one that needs our silver enough that they’ll overlook our odd coinage—”

“No.” Chuck shook his head. “You two stay with me. I owe you that much.”

“Pull that strap across you, and snap the buckle into that slot,” said Chuck. “The car complains a lot if you don’t.”

“Maybe these things
are
torture devices,” Lodrán grumbled from the back, as Chelinn fumbled with the strap. Chelinn held his sword between his knees, and had to re-route the strap to not catch the scabbard.

“Sorry,” said Chuck. “The back seat isn’t too comfortable.”

“So I’ve learned.” Lodrán folded his tall, thin frame behind the driver’s seat, as there was no room between Chelinn’s seat and the back seat. “How long must we endure this?”

“Ten minutes, maybe. Traffic thins out before closing time, so we won’t be held up too much.”

“Thank the Hand.”

They said little else once Chuck started moving, only stared out the windows at the strange sights and marveling at the swift pace of the “car.” Strange music, interrupted by cheerful pitchmen, filled the interior. After a few stops and turns, Chuck turned off the road onto what he called the “driveway.” His house was easy to identify as such, even if huge for one person.

Chuck turned a small key, and the car went silent. Lodrán waited for Chuck to exit and tilt the seatback forward, then clambered out with little of his usual grace. Chelinn fumbled with the door handle, then finally opened his own door and emerged.

Inside: more wonders. Lights that did not smoke, water—hot and cold!—gushing at the turn of a knob, and something Chuck called the “tube.” The tube looked like a window about the size of a traveling puppeteer’s stage, but had no place for a puppeteer to crouch behind it. Yet it showed a frenetic display of images, changing as Chuck pressed a button on a separate device.

“You say you don’t have magic here?” Lodrán grumbled, unable to tear himself away.

“There’s a saying…” Chuck thought a moment. “
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic
. A man named Arthur C. Clarke said that.”

“Is he a sage?”

“An author. That’s a storyteller. He wrote some stories about traveling between worlds, but in ships.”

Chelinn pushed away a mental image of his ship sailing from Termag to another world. “Do you have a—computer? Is that the word? Here?” Chelinn asked.

“Sure, why?”

“I wanted to see that weather display again. If we know when it will rain here again, I can be ready to find a rainbow.”

Chuck laid the box of buttons down and led Chelinn to the den. “Here,” he said, pushing and tapping at another small box that Chuck had called a
mouse
at his store. Chelinn guessed that if it were truly a mouse, the cord would be its tail. A small drawing twirled in one corner, then the pictures representing weather fell into place on the window. “Ow,” said Chuck. “It’s Tuesday. It says here that the next chance of rain is Sunday, and that’s only thirty percent.”

“Which means?”

“You’re stuck here for a while.” Chuck shrugged. “If you guys want to help out at the store, you can live here as long as it takes. It shouldn’t be much more than a week, unless you can use your magic to bring a rain.”

Chelinn looked horrified. “It takes a certain kind of mage to cast weather magic and not have it go spectacularly wrong! I’m—oh. You
wouldn’t
know, would you?”

“When it comes to real magic, I’m even more lost than you guys are in this world.”

“And if it were not for you, noted—Mister Robinson, we would be thoroughly lost. And it would be most helpful if you could tell us—”

The living room suddenly filled with noise; it reminded Chelinn of the throbbing sounds coming from some of the cars on the street. He and Chuck dashed into the living room to find Lodrán gaping at scantily-clad women, gyrating on the tube. The box of buttons was in Lodrán’s hand, his thumb on one of the buttons. Chuck took the box and pressed it; the noise diminished but the women continued to twist. Then, the tube showed a man, pointing into the room, speaking words that made little sense.

“Lodrán!” Chelinn nudged the Silent Artist, but he stood watching until Chuck pressed a red button. The tube at last turned black and made neither sound nor image. “We’ll be here several days, maybe longer. Mister Robinson will teach us how to speak and act, so we don’t draw undue attention to ourselves until we can get home.”

“Will you two please just call me Chuck?”

• • •

“That’s not how a sorcerer dresses,” said Chelinn, standing in the shop and looking at Chuck’s “wizard robe.” It was a deep purple, spangled with yellow symbols representing stars and other shapes that Chuck called
comets
. A matching conical hat made him look triangular.

“Really? How do they dress then?”

“Not like that. More like Lodrán. Loose-fitting clothes, many pockets, boots, a colored sash to represent their primary element. A cloak for inclement weather.”

“This is how they dressed in our world, though,” Chuck protested.

“No wonder they disappeared,” Lodrán laughed.

Chelinn shrugged. “This world is not ours. If people here expect a mage to wear robes, then robed he shall be.”

Lodrán spread his hands. “And you, as usual, pretend to be the dumb muscle.”

Chuck pulled the cloth belt tight around his soft middle. “You know what? I could see that,” he said. “I guess some prejudices are universal.” He paused for a moment. “Do you think you could… you could teach me some
real
magic?”

“Only if you have the bent for it,” said Chelinn. “That’s the second of the Three Principles. Some people have a talent for storytelling or the longbow. Some can farm the rockiest ground and yet grow crops aplenty. Maybe that’s a kind of magic itself. It does seem that the children of farmers are well-represented as sorcerers.”

“Three Principles? What are those?”

Chelinn looked at the small clock on the desk; they would not open the store for a few more minutes. “The Principle of Necessity is first,” he said. “If you use magic unneeded, it almost always goes wrong. The power hasn’t faded in this world—I can feel and use it—so much as it’s been replaced by your devices. It’s simply unnecessary now. The second is called the Principle of Power—the power comes from you, or through you, by intent. The third is the Principle of Closure. If you begin something, you must end it as well. On those three principles are built the entire edifice of magic.”

“That makes sense,” said Chuck. “Now that I think about it, you mentioned that first principle before. It’s why you froze that guy.”

“Indeed.”

“So if I have the talent, what magic could you teach me? That hasn’t been replaced by technology.”

Chelinn shrugged. “I don’t suppose there are devices for locating things you have lost? No? A spell of finding is very useful, and one of the first that an apprentice sorcerer learns. Even here, you could find its use necessary from time to time. Necessity is a tricky thing, and sometimes depends on your situation.”

“You mean like if finding something quickly means the difference between life and death, versus just inconvenient?”

“Good, you do understand.” Chelinn smiled. “But there is necessity, and there is necessity, no? It need not rise to life and death—you may consider it necessary to find something that allows you to arrive on time for an important appointment. Even if you have no other way to find what you have lost, inconvenience is necessity enough.”

“Yeah. I’m always misplacing my car keys.”

“These?” Lodrán held up a key ring.

“Yeah—hey! I
know
those were in my pocket. How did you get them? I didn’t even feel it!”

Lodrán grinned. “I saw which pocket you put them in, and you were distracted talking to Chelinn. If I couldn’t take them with those advantages, I’d be thrown out of the safehouse.”

“It’s time to open the shop,” said Chelinn. “We’ll discuss this further later today.”

“Close your eyes,” Chelinn told Chuck. The after-school rush had come and gone, and Lodrán hung the
CLOSED
sign in the window. “Calm yourself, as much as possible. Now think about your keys, in as much detail as you can.”

“Okay.” Chuck closed his eyes. “Is the Principle of Necessity going to kick in for this?”

“What? No. Learning how to use magic is necessary for its use. A logical hoop, yes, but if not abused it is sufficient. Your keys. Do you see them?”

“Yeah.”

“In detail?”

“Yeah.”

Chelinn gave him a grim smile, unseen. “Good. Now look around them. What do you see?”

“Um… oh. A dull blue. Like the carpet. Yes, the carpet.”

“Very good. Without losing your vision of the keys, let the color take form.”

Chuck’s face wrinkled in a scowl for a moment. “All right. I see the weave of the carpet. So Lodrán put them on the floor somewhere.” He paused. “This is cool.”

“But where on the floor? Expand your vision a little more, if you can. Don’t lose what you have grasped already, though.”

“Ah. I see brown. Above and beside. Under one of the shelves, then, at one end.”

“Can you see which shelf?”

“I’m trying… ah!” Chuck opened his eyes and flapped his hands. “I lost it!”

“Not bad for your first attempt,” said Chelinn. You have at least a little talent, so it’s a matter of practice. Remember the Principle of Power—you have the ability, so don’t convince yourself it’s impossible. Even if you don’t pinpoint the location, you can often see enough to know where to look.”

“Speaking of the Principles, how does Closure apply to a spell of finding?”

“When you stop seeing, or find what you seek, then the spell is closed. You won’t lose something else to make up for what you found, if that’s what you’re thinking. But it’s a good question. It says you’re thinking about the Principles. Try it again.”

“I’m glad I’m doing something right, then.” Chuck closed his eyes. “Oh. It’s quicker this time.”

“You see your keys again?”

“Yeah. The corner of the shelf, too. I guess I need to zoom out…”

“Zoom out?”

“Sorry.” Chuck opened his eyes. “Like with my camera. To ‘zoom out’ is to include more background around your subject.”

“Ah. I should not have interrupted.”

“No problem.” Chuck again closed his eyes. “Keys. Carpet. Shelf. Zoom out… I can see the colors of the merchandise on the bottom shelf, but I can’t make out any words.”

“Reading is not what a spell of finding is about. Can you identify the merchandise by other means?”

“Yeah… it’s books! They’re too thick to be card packs, and I don’t put those on the bottom shelves anyway! Black covers, yellow covers… I think I can figure it out from here.” Chuck walked up a row of shelves, then stopped and bent. “And here they are!” He held up his keys.