The Galactic Mage (38 page)

“That was something of a surprise, wasn’t it?” agreed the doctor.

Orli only smiled, half a smile, the other half of her mouth was tight as she contemplated what she’d just observed. She wanted to believe, but magic seemed like such a stretch.

“Jesus,” said Roberto, still struggling with a threat to everything he thought he’d ever understood about the universe and things. “That scared the shit out of me, if you want the truth. Like seeing a ghost or something. Look, it gave me chills.” He held his goosefleshed forearm up for all of them to see.

Doctor Singh was on to more important things. “Did you hear what he said about the Hostiles? About us not moving. Do you realize what he implied? What power that could be?”

“What are you talking about?” Roberto asked.

“What he said, about not moving, about being merged. It explains the odd bloating of the orbs before they ruptured. If our new friend is saying what I think he’s saying, he was using his… teleport… to move them inside of one another, and that is how they died. It would be like me slamming you and Orli together so hard that you both became one mass. One dead, bloody mass.” Roberto raised an eyebrow speculatively as he considered that, freezing for a moment as he realized where he stood and suddenly took a long step back to stand once more beside his friends. He stared with horror at the spot where Altin had just been, where he himself was standing only a second ago, and began to shake his head.

Still, his expression suggested that he didn’t want to believe; how could he accept what he just saw as magic? There had to be some kind of trick. The captain’s theory was looking better all the time. At least the captain’s opinion still had some grounding in physics and established principles of the universe. In fact, the more he considered it, the more likely the captain’s scenario became the realistic answer, the likely one. Occam’s razor to be sure. He announced this to the other two. “No. This is bullshit. The more I think about it, the more I think some sort of hallucination is probably more in line.” He laughed nervously. “You know, Doc, you almost had me going there. Both of you. But I’m thinking the orb shot us up with that combo virus crap and now we only think we’re cured. They just used that disease to get inside our heads, and now they’re using it to generate mass hallucinations or something along those lines. That dude ain’t even almost real.”

The pitch of Orli’s voice rose slightly with each successive word she spoke. “Giant space balls generating mass, synchronized hallucinations through psycho-conductive pathogens? Are you kidding me?” She shook her head with a look on her face that bordered on amazement. “How is that a better hypothesis than Altin’s using magic?” She had to inhale and exhale slowly to keep from getting mad. Besides, she liked the way his name felt as it played upon her lips.

Roberto started to answer, but Altin’s sudden reappearance startled them all to silence. Once again he was holding a book, although much smaller than the last. “All right,” he said as if he hadn’t been gone at all, “a frog is a little more complicated than would be a creature closer to your size, so it will take me longer to do than if you could settle for something on the order of a dog or a deer—you understand, something closer to you in mass. But, whichever you like. I’d like to get us past this part and onto more fertile diplomatic ground.”

His matter-of-fact tone unnerved Roberto, and the burly Spaniard began to suspect that there was a chance Altin might be serious about what he said. Altin was staring at him patiently without the slightest twinkle of humor in his eyes. Roberto faltered under that gaze, under the expectant looks from his crewmates doing nothing to intervene, unwilling to take the chance. “No,” he said. “You know what? I think I’m good. Never mind the frog. Or the dog. I believe you.”

Altin looked up from the book. Now there was a twinkle in his eye. “Are you sure? I mean, neither one will take that long. I can do a frog in about fifteen minutes or so. And a dog, well, I can have you licking our feet in less than five.”

“Oh, do that one,” Orli chimed in at once, flashing a villainous look at the cringing Roberto. Hearing her speak made Altin happy. “We’d love to see that,” she said, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t we Doctor Singh?”

“Very much,” the doctor said, grinning and nodding emphatically.

Roberto glared at them both, traitors in the flesh, then turned plaintively to Altin. “No. Seriously, it’s fine. I’m sorry I brought it up. No dogs. Please.”

Both the doctor and Orli were laughing hysterically by the time Roberto finished pleading for his human form. Roberto, at first trying to retain his sour face, eventually had to laugh as well. He looked over at Altin and nodded with respect. “Ok, you got me, man. That was a good one, I admit.” He clapped Altin on the shoulder, conceding defeat.

Altin, somewhat at a loss, just smiled and nodded back. He felt as if he’d only caught about half of what was going on.

“Come,” said Orli taking Altin by the wrist for the second time that day. Slender yet strong, her hand closed around his arm, gripping him tightly as her touch once more set the lightning coursing through his veins. “We should at least give you a tour,” she said, “since we’ve obviously been so rude.” She flicked her eyes at Roberto, shooing him away. “How does that sound to you? Would you like to see our ship?”

“Count me out,” Roberto cut in before Altin made his reply. “I have work to do.” He winked at Orli, they both knew he was off duty for six more hours.

“A tour sounds wonderful,” Altin said as his palms grew slick with sweat. She could lead him into a wyvern’s lair and he would gladly go.

Chapter
39

A
ltin and Orli did not get very far before discovering that once they left the area where the Common Tongues spell had been cast they could no longer understand what one another said. They’d gone perhaps a hundred paces down the long white hallway when Altin finally felt the need to point it out. He hated to spoil the contact with Orli as they walked along, but by the end of the corridor, he realized that he would not be able to just contentedly stroll along to the music of her voice forever; at some point, he was going to have to say something back, for if he waited too much longer, the revelation might be embarrassing to her. Reluctantly, and not until they were nearing another of the ship’s sliding doors, he told her about the range of his divining language spell. As soon as he spoke she understood—in that she could not understand a single word he said. They both laughed and then went back to the hospital room.

“I’m going to have to enchant something portable, or we’ll never be able to leave this room,” he said on their return. “Either that or I’ll have to enchant your entire ship, which I suspect would be the task of months if not a year.”

“Enchant?” she asked. “What do you mean by that? Like something permanent?”

“Yes, exactly. It might take me a bit of time, because, as I said, I’m rather new to Divining magic. However, I’m not new to enchanting at all, so I should be able to come up with something that will work. We just need it to be portable so that we can communicate as we move around.”

“Well, will it interfere with radio waves?” she asked, unclasping a silver button from where it was attached near the collar of her uniform. “If not, we could use this. That’s what it’s for anyway. Communication I mean.” She handed him the small device, not much bigger than the tip of his thumb, and let him take a look. The object would do fine.

“Are you sure you can do without it?” he asked. “It may take me some time to get it done. Again, divining is rather new for me.”

“It’s fine; I have another one I can use. How long do you think it’s going to take?”

“Well, I’m not sure. A few hours at the very least. It might even take a day or two. But, something like that. Plus, I need to send my dragon home; he’s been out here far too long.” Altin knew as he said it that he no longer had any intention of accompanying the dragon home. Taot was going to get delivered right into his cave. Clearly, given his display the other day, practically burning them both to death, the dragon would be able to keep any nosy predators at bay. He might not fly for another week or two, but Altin no longer feared for his safety in the cave.

Orli gasped as he said the words. “No,” she said. “You can’t send him away. I was kind of hoping I could say hello.”

“To my dragon?” His brows knitted nearly together with concern. He hated to tell her no, but it probably wasn’t safe. “Listen, dragons are an unpredictable lot, and he’s been sick. Did you see him during the fight, blowing fire all around?”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s not normal. He’s never done that before.”

She looked disappointed, her delicate lips curving to a pout. “It’s okay. Maybe some other time.”

He groaned inside. “He doesn’t like anyone. He’s horribly rude that way.”

She smiled, barely. “It’s okay, really. I understand.”

He groaned again, this time not just inside.

She put her electric hand on his arm again, heating his face and flesh. She certainly was an aggressive thing, despite her incongruous sense of tact. “Altin, I really do understand. Animals are like that. I’ll meet him some other time, when he’s feeling better.”

Altin could no longer let discretion hold him back, not with the pounding in his chest. “I’ll make him behave. It will be fine.” He simply could not let her down. Not even a little bit. And Taot was probably still asleep. He would send a telepathic warning before he brought Orli to the tower.

“No,” she said. “Really. I’m not sure I’m ready to be barbequed anyway.” She laughed.

He sent a gentle probe to Taot’s mind, almost disappointed to find that Taot was awake. Finding him so, he projected a sense of visitors and that there was nothing to pose a threat. The dragon returned an impression of unconcern but accompanied that with a sense that neither Altin nor his guest would be safe if Altin didn’t find the dragon something to eat fairly soon. Altin assured the beast that he would supply food the instant he was in the tower.

“Everything will be fine,” he told her. “I just checked with him. He’s just a bit cranky right now is all. I need to feed him as soon as we get back.”

“You mean you can talk to him? Like, with E.S.P.?”

“I’m not sure what that is, but if it’s on the order of telepathy, then yes, that’s exactly how it works. Dragons are remarkable that way, one of a handful of telepathic beasts. I take it you don’t have dragons on your world.”

“No,” she grinned. “At least not in the last several million years.”

He nodded. Prosperion had seen its share of species go extinct as well. “All right then, are you ready to go?”

She stared blankly at him for a moment until it slowly dawned on her what he had just proposed. She felt her hands begin to sweat and found herself more than just a little terrified. “You mean now? With a… teleporting?”

“Yes. Unless you have another way.”

She swallowed hard. She wondered how much trouble she was going to be in. She
was
off duty though. What she did with her own time was, technically, up to her. Wasn’t it? But unauthorized departure was definitely against the rules. However, she loathed the rules. And though she’d never actually thought about it before, she’d always wanted to meet a dragon. “No,” she said at last, as her skin tingled and her heart began to race, “let’s go say ‘hello.’”

Altin grabbed his books from where they lay upon the bed and began to chant the spell. A moment later they were standing in his room. At which point he blushed to the deepest crimson, realizing what he had done. “Oh my,” he said, eyes wide and expecting her to be mortified. “It’s really not what you think.” He stammered and, tossing his books aside, tried to straighten the blankets on his bed. “Oh my. Oh my. You’ll think me a scoundrel.” He turned to look at her, clearly horrified by what he’d done, then abruptly darted up the stairs, calling down to her as he went, “I’m terribly sorry. I honestly meant no insult at all. Please don’t think me so depraved. I just… I’m unendingly sorry. Please forgive me.”

Orli said something that he couldn’t understand, and she was fanning herself, obviously surprised at the temperature Taot had created with his fiery tirade. It was also obvious from her tone that she was baffled by his sudden shift in attitude. And, once again, he’d forgotten about the ten-step radius of Common Tongues.

He came back down the stairs, shielding his eyes with a hand so as not to gape at the woman in his boudoir like some predatory lout, and ran down to the first floor of his tower to get some parchment, a quill pen and some ink. He came back up, displaying the objects to Orli while maintaining the properly discreet aversion of his eyes, and then went up to the battlements hoping that she understood. Apparently she recognized the purpose of the objects, for he happened to glimpse her nodding as he shuffled past. She had a grin on her face that suggested that she was mildly amused. He marveled at how forgiving the woman was as he skittered up the stairs.

He set the items down upon the battlement floor, roughly centered, but close enough for the spell area’s outer edge to overlap with Taot’s resting place. The dragon eyed him expectantly and licked its teeth.

“Oh,” Altin said. “One second. I’ll be right back.”

He ran back down to his rooms where Orli, clearly waiting for permission to approach the area wherein the dragon lay, had gone to his bookshelf and was leafing through a book. Her alabaster skin was beginning to shine as the heat hanging in the air brought a sheen of perspiration to her flesh, luminously wet, reflective and smooth like fine marble under the lights in Mercy’s temple or that of some other feminine divinity. He wanted to smile at her, but did not want her to misinterpret his gaze for lust, particularly given that he found himself with more than a seed of it stirring in his loins. Her uniform was unparalleled in inspiring such ungallant thoughts, more so than anything he’d ever seen.

The whole of discomfiture was made worse by the fact that he had to approach her to get to the crate of food, which was not too far from where she stood.

“Excuse me,” he said, face turned away from her and still blushing red, “I need to get Taot something to eat.”

Apparently she sensed his predicament and stepped to the other side of the bed. She was still smiling, almost a smirk now, as if she had figured out exactly what was on his mind and yet found it amusing just the same. That didn’t help at all.

He hadn’t checked the crate before he’d brought his tower back out into the stars, and there wasn’t much left inside. There was, however, still an entire ham and three turkey legs, plus a wedge of cheese and some bread. He wasn’t sure the dragon would be interested in the latter two, but the rest would suit him fine. The meager portions wouldn’t fill the dragon up, but they would keep hunger at bay until Altin could send the great beast home.

With an unintentional glimpse at Orli, now pretending to leaf through the book as she watched him with an unashamed stare, he loaded all the food into his arms and trundled up the stairs. He dumped his haul near Taot’s head and watched with satisfaction as the dragon began to eat. The ham was gone in the matter of a blink. Altin sent the dragon a promise that he’d teleport him home in just a moment, but that he was going to bring someone up. He asked that the dragon behave when Orli arrived, but, as usual with dragons, no promises were made. Taot sniffed the air near the stairs and sent back to Altin’s mind the sense that he didn’t need to eat her just yet. That was as close as Altin was going to get.

Altin ran back down the stairs, growing breathless with all his labor and the stress, motioned for Orli to wait and went down to the bottom floor in search of some scissors with which to cut their hair. Of course he didn’t have a pair. However, he still had his service dagger hanging on the belt suspended from a peg on the back of the door. So he pulled that from its scabbard and headed back upstairs, wiping the dust from its pommel as he went.

Orli greeted him with a smile as he reentered his bed chamber and, for whatever reason, this time he did not avert his eyes. She certainly didn’t make him as uncomfortable in this circumstance as other women might have done. He would have to thank her for that. Most women would have been outraged. However, as he approached, she saw the dagger in his hand. He realized, as her hand moved down to her red-light weapon, that she was not quite so comfortable as he had assumed.

“Oh,” he said, stopping and stepping back. “It’s for the hair.” He reached for another lock of his hair, and sliced it neatly with the knife. “See.” He held his newly pruned spell component out for her to see. “For the spell.”

She immediately recognized his intent and her posture became more relaxed. Still, the moment had taken something from the energy that been heating up the air quite aside from anything Taot had done before.

Altin flipped the dagger around in his hand, holding it by the blade, and offered it pommel first to her so that she could cut her hair herself. She smiled, clearly relieved, and took it. He made a quick gesture to his own ear, reminding her to take it from the area specified by the spell. She was rather clumsy with the knife and took a somewhat longish cut, twice the size required by the spell. He wondered if maybe he should have offered to do it after all. Gods, what was it about her that made him so out of sorts?

She returned the dagger to him with the sample of her own hair, which he took, smiling, and then beckoned her to follow him up to the battlements. Once there, he placed the dagger on the table, discreetly halving the sample Orli had cut and slipping the extra portion behind the lamp so that she would not know that she’d made a mistake. Then he went about placing the samples on the parchment and setting up the rest of the ten-pace radius spell that would allow them to communicate. The spell was cast a moment later, and, still out of breath, he could finally apologize for teleporting her into his bed chamber as if he thought her some common tart.

“What?” she stammered as soon as he’d prattled out his long, dissembling explanation of chivalry and proper etiquette. “Is that what that was all about?” She giggled, almost childlike, and blushed a little pink into her cheeks. “I admit, I thought it might be something like that, but chivalry has been dead so long on Earth I really figured it had to be something else.” She looked him square in the eye, and a smile came upon her perfect lips. “You really are sweet, Altin. I’ve never met a man like you.”

His cheeks caught fire as if Taot had just breathed directly in his face. He used the dragon as his excuse to divert her attention from his blush. “Thank you,” he managed after a moment. “You’re very kind to say it.” He stepped to the dragon and patted it on the head. “This is Taot, my dragon.” He paused. “Well, he’s not really mine. He’s entirely his own, but we have something of a partnership.”

Orli regarded the dragon who was just finishing off the last of the turkey legs, the bones popping and crunching as they were crushed between its powerful jaws. She clapped her hands and laughed aloud. “He’s magnificent! And so huge. Whatever made you want to cram an animal this big up here in such a tiny space?” Before Altin could answer she added, “Can I pet him?”

A bit surprised that she was not more cautious, and a bit impressed, he queried Taot to see if he was going to stand for a stranger’s touch; the dragon was never amenable to such things, but it was always worth a try. The sensation the dragon returned to Altin’s mind was entirely unspeakable, inappropriate beyond all measure, and he could not believe that Taot would assume such base and lustful things about Altin’s purely chivalrous motives regarding the woman standing here. Taot was an unremitted and lascivious beast, and clearly expected little more from Altin than he expected from himself. And in addition to assuming Altin had such carnal plans, the dragon apparently approved of Altin’s “choice of mates” as well—including an appalling appreciation for her scent. Altin’s blush could not have gotten any deeper red, though there was a lurking voice inside him that wished he dared be so bold.