The Tower (20 page)

“She's my friend.”

She laughed again, a harsh, humorless sound. “And what are you prepared to do to win back, shall we say, those good looks for your friend?”

Wordlessly, I took out Wilson's preparation from my pocket and set it in front of her. Her eyes widened a bit, she picked up the bottle and examined it carefully, replaced it gently on the table and curiously regarded me. “This is Mah-Hel-Nak,” she breathed. “The ingredients are hard to find and even harder to prepare—truthfully, I could never do it myself. Do you know what this does?”

“It's used to reverse certain spells, or so I've read, with the proper incantation.”

“It's also very expensive,” she stated. “For someone as young as you it must have cost you everything.” She was right about that, it had.

“It was worth it,” I told her. “It's my gift to you. Call it a bribe if you like, call it anything but take it, please.”

“And you're willing to give up all the money you have just for her?” she asked disbelievingly. “Just like that, even though you don't belong here and are sick?” Yeah, she saw right through me.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. “I don't know a damn thing about magic, I have no skills and no powers. But Tenkita's my friend and friends help friends because they want to, not because they have to. If this is what it takes, then that's it.” That was all I had; I'd just given her my best shot, weak as it was, and couldn't do any more.

Sa'Fina sat there, looking at me like an insect under a microscope for a second, and then shifted her gaze downwards. “It was so long ago,” she began. Was there a note of regret in her voice? I couldn't tell. “It was a contest between the two best there ever were, she and I. I'd been on top for decades, I won't tell you how old I really am; I still have my vanity.” She smiled a little, a sad smile. I'd seen that look before on Tenkita.

“My rival was much younger then, just a teenager, and it was said by many that she was the greatest, even at so tender an age. No, she's not a sorceress but she has great power, nonetheless. Perhaps she believed her own press, perhaps not, but I couldn't let those claims of superiority go unchallenged. A duel of our crafts was arranged, not so far from here, witnessed by many. It was a titanic battle and sad to say I was judged to be second best.”

Sa'Fina continued speaking, her voice a little quieter now. “In my jealousy and rage, I cursed her. That was about ten years ago. I gave her the gift of eternal youth with those blights on her face and body or the choice to look like an old woman. She's held it against me all this time which I can't blame her for and like the jealous fool that I am I refused to do anything about it.”

She looked up at me. “You were right, I should have been content knowing I was the best. At that time, I
was
the best and I was still beaten. It happens and this is what happened to me.”

I held my breath, hoping that her little admission of guilt would change her mind. She waited then spoke again. “And here's another bit of truth. Since that day, I've not left this house. I've had no visitors except for you; all my old friends from my circle of magic and sorcery want nothing to do with me. I could go back into business again, but no one wants what I have to offer. Not even the enemy powers, they fear me too much.”

She looked up at me, her face cold and imperious, but for all her magic, all her power, she was just another bitter person who took defeat too personally. Much like the kid who loses a game of kickball and takes his ball and goes home, leaving the other kids to do nothing, she was like that with her magic. Only this time, the stakes were much higher.

She continued. “And so I live here, alone with my ‘cats' and my butler, and spend my time doing absolutely nothing, except preparing spells and incantations to prevent my house and its inhabitants from being destroyed. Not much of an existence, is it?”

“Is it too late to change?” I asked. “My guess is that you're immortal or close to it.” She nodded slightly. “You have all the time in the world to do what you want, if you want.” I stopped for a second, hoping I wasn't sounding too preachy. “If I've learned anything, it's that there's always a choice. I just made mine. It isn't much, but it's all I have.”

Sa'Fina looked at me again and then gave a little shrug. “You never know, it might be enough, Mr. Lampkin.” She hesitated a bit. “May I ask you a question?”

She looked directly at me, gazing into my very essence.

“Can you forgive those who hurt you so long ago, made you feel like you were less than nothing?”

The question was asked very simply with no malice in it, she just wanted to know. Thinking about it, all my life I'd wanted to be someone better than I was. I'd achieved that through luck and a lot of hard work. Thinking further, if I went back to my universe and lived, I could easily rub everyone's noses in it, those who'd humiliated me as a kid, beat me up, made me feel like less than a roach you step on. I could get back at everyone I'd ever hated, except now, there was no need. There was nothing left for me to prove to anyone, except myself…and I had.

Looking at her I said, “If you want to know how I really feel, then touch my forehead again.” She did, looking at me very carefully and in a nanosecond, she knew everything about the loss of my mother, the rottenness of my father, the sickness, the pain…and the loneliness. And she knew about the adventures I'd had and the friendships I'd formed here…the love I had for my girlfriend. All that—no more words were needed.

A moment's silence, and then, “You'd better go now, I have things to do.” I got up, finished off my tea, and thanked her again for her hospitality. Walking me to the door, she asked, “You got that potion from Wilson, didn't you?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Did he ask you who it was for?”

“No, he just said that it was expensive.”

She nodded slightly. “Wilson's a good person, one of the better mortals I've met. He always was the best in the business at making those concoctions of his. I promised I'd leave him be and I will. And I will also thank him for his potion when next I see him.”

She then waved the door open with a flick of her wrist. “You have good manners, young man, and I like that.” She paused once again, looked at me, her eyes had lost most of their hardness although that aura of command was still there and that was something she would never relinquish. Everyone had their pride; in this brief meeting I'd witnessed someone swallowing theirs. Time alone would tell what would happen.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Lampkin,” she said, and this time her voice was a little warmer. “May your journey home be as pleasant as the life you've had here. You have that rather rare quality about you—you care when others don't. Don't ever lose that.”

The door closed, and I walked back the way I'd come. The Dart was waiting for me outside one of the larger parks in LA, I got on board and rode in silence back to the Tower. It was time for another shot. I didn't know if this trip was a success or not, only hoped that it would be. Things were about to take another turn in a different direction than I'd thought.

* * *

Ten days later after my meeting with Wildcard and Sa'Fina. Nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed. Business as usual, the Association was still on the job. TCB—taking care of business.

“Are you feeling better, Bill?” Dan asked me. He and Cathy were about to go Earth-side with Lawmaker and BIG to help stem a forest fire in California. The other techs were off in various parts of the world, doing the kind of job I used to do.

“Hanging in there, Dan,” I answered glumly. “Give 'em hell, man.”

“Wish you were there with us, buddy,” he answered. “You were always the biggest part of the relief crew.” And then he was gone.

Yeah, well, I wasn't part of it, not anymore. I'd been restricted from active duty and it seemed like that particular part of my life here was over. While I should have been grateful that everyone was looking out for my best interests, inside it felt like I was the appendix of the ship's crew, a useless organ that sometimes becomes infected and needs to be cut out in order to save the entire body.

It was difficult getting used to the routine of
not
doing anything. Before my relapse, it'd been non-stop action but now, my name was no longer called for Hangar Bay service. I got used to going in for breakfast and not making it, and got even more depressed at seeing everyone working hard and then eating and running off to yet another mission.

Of course, there was that issue of being healthy which I couldn't ignore and things weren't getting any better. The little jolts of joint pain were increasing in frequency and severity; something inside me said the sands of time were flowing ever faster. I could only hope Avenger would come up with some kind of miracle. If this kept up, my chances would change from slim to none in a hurry.

It became necessary for me to spend a lot of time alone, just lying in bed and reading whatever caught my eye and that wasn't much. Watched the news of what was going on world-wide, The same positive reports about the Association, never a bad word about them.

But things were different now. I'd lost a lot of the awe that I'd had for them when I first arrived in this universe. Not that I didn't or couldn't appreciate what they were doing, I did and could, but it wasn't the same anymore. I still felt they were special but in a different way I couldn't really define.

Thinking about it further, I realized I'd become a part of a system in which we were all playing roles, doomed to be repeated endlessly like re-runs on television: The same episodes, the same cast of characters, the same happy endings. People were saved, justice was served, the good guys always triumphed and the bad guys always lost. It was about as two-dimensional a situation as it could get. While I
thought
the Ultras were as real as anyone else, the fact that I really didn't know anything
about
them with the exception of Oriana didn't make them flesh-and-blood characters to me; they were more like cartoon cutouts.

Nothing was simple or clear-cut anymore. Why I hadn't realized that before was beyond me, but now I did, and my life as it was, was no longer the orderly pattern where I knew just what to do and when to do it. Confusion reigned, and I was at a loss over how to control it.

The other daily routines also no longer held any fascination for me. I'd learned everything there was to know about the day-to-day workings of the ship, knew every passageway, storage room, job description and emergency situation. Truthfully, I was just bored, and did the Tower reports half-heartedly. Same deal with my homework. With all the studying I'd put in, I'd gone from being a junior-high dropout to just shy of completing second year of high-school. But that was a lifetime and a sickness ago.

Guardsman came by one day and told me I was slipping. “Illness or no, Bill, you've got a job to do.”

“A job to do,” I repeated. “Well, I'm sick, and I'm tired of being treated like a grade-school kid,” I snapped at him. “And I'm tired of people looking at me all the time and telling me to shape up. Shove it up your uniform the next time you take it off to take a dump.” That got me a surprised and somewhat hurt look, very different from the scowl he usually wore. He walked out without saying a word.

I did go looking for BG, just to say sorry for being an a-hole, but he always seemed to be somewhere else on the Tower or on a mission, and after a few half-assed tries on my part, I figured I'd let it go and hoped he would, too. Didn't make it any easier for me to be around the other Ultras after I'd shot off my big mouth even though no one ever said a word and Oriana was always there for support.

Being totally honest with myself, I was reliving my past days when I was in the Terminal Ward. I had constant flashbacks to those times and was inwardly terrified of it happening again. What was this, what was life all about when it could end at any time? It seemed like such a cruel joke to be cured and then told, “Sorry kid, this just ain't your day.”

Going planet-side also held no fascination for me anymore. Skree had taken me to Kyoto the week before in order to cheer me up, we ended up at a sushi restaurant and all I did was drink water. She'd ordered eighty pieces of egg sushi and tossed the rice. I just couldn't take any joy or wonder in watching her make a glutton out of herself.

Sensing my discomfort, she asked me, “Bill, you feeling down?”

I wanted to say yes, but didn't. I liked her too much and didn't want to hurt her feelings. I'd already made a jerk out of myself by dissing BG and didn't want to lose her friendship as well.

“I'm just very tired,” I said and she completely understood, took me back to the Dart, got me back to the Tower in record time and actually tucked me into bed. Wouldn't that get Paul (Blue Lancer) all jealous, I asked?

“We always look out for our friends,” she said. “He knows and it's all good with him.” All I could do after she left was cry.

How could I not think of the Ultras as my friends? I did, I really did, even though the hero-worship ideas had pretty much disappeared. In spite of my withdrawal from the world, and in spite of their busy schedules, pretty much all of them made the time to talk to me and tried their best to keep my spirits up.

Even Big Gelt came around, saying, “Bud, you're one of us, right? Well, we take care of our own, y'know? I mean, if we don't do for each other, who's gonna do it, right?” Same as what Skree had said, but the way he said it, it made me laugh—one of the few times I felt like busting one. It was only then that I realized they cared.

Or thought they did.

One day when there was nothing better for me to do, I took a walk to clear my head and went down to Deck #3, near the Arbor Room. The hallway was empty, but then I heard voices coming from a storage room nearby. One of them sounded like Deanna's. What…? I crept in a bit closer.