“But that is inherent,” Keli said. “It is part of us. If it is not your magic, you can not do it, just as we can not do your magic.”
“How can you be sure?” he asked. “Nona has very special powers, and Seqiro can link your minds closely. Perhaps—”
Nona’s attention abruptly focused. “If I could learn that—”
“I will teach you!” Keli cried. “If I possibly can!” “And if Nona learns this, she will ask Stave to choose you next,” Darius said, sealing the deal.
Nona glanced at him, realizing that he had maneuvered her into it. But her objection was tempered by dawning realism, and a genuine interest in learning the magic.
CHAPTER 15—RADICAL
COLENE and Esta woke together as the first light seeped through the heavy curtains at the window. Provos was already up and repacking their things. She seemed to have taken part of one of the heavy drapes and cut it up; Colene was about to inquire about this odd behavior, but Esta touched her arm.
“Is it true?” Esta asked hesitantly. “Am I really going to go away with Uncle Slick?”
“It’s true,” Colene said. “You’ll go today.”
“But Mom will worry.”
Colene knew that syndrome. “You’ll send her letters that can’t be traced. Your uncle will know how to do it. And you’ll never mention what has been. In time maybe you’ll forget it yourself.”
“Oh, I wish!”
Colene ordered breakfast, knowing that they would have time to shower and dress before it arrived. She was correct. Provos seemed surprised when the food came; this was her first experience, in her memory.
As they finished eating, Provos became nervous. She peered out the window. Colene felt a mental uh-oh.
Colene picked up the phone and dialed Slick’s number. There was no answer; the line merely opened. “Colene. Tell Slick we’re ready now. Hurry—and watch out.”
There was no response. Colene hoped that she had done it correctly. “Let’s get moving,” she said. Then, glancing at Esta: “We’d better mask you. In fact, we’d better mask all of us, because it could be my folks tracing my call or something, or yours. They’ll have descriptions.”
Provos brought out three things. This was what she had made from the drape. She opened one out and lo, it was a sort of cap or wig. She set it on Esta’s head and pulled it snug under the girl’s chin, and Esta was transformed into a cross between a nun and a foreign dignitary.
“But that will stand out like a sore eyeball,” Colene protested. “We’ll hardly get through the hotel lobby, let alone travel around town unnoticed!”
Provos came to her and put a similar cap on her head, and fastened it. Colene shut up, having to trust the woman’s judgment.
Finally Provos put one on her own head. Then she led the way to the door, carrying Esta’s suitcase.
Colene and Esta followed. “Play along,” Colene told the girl. “She knows what she’s doing, even if we don’t.” She hoped. This ploy seemed farfetched and perhaps dangerous.
They went down to the lobby, where Colene approached the desk and checked out. A different shift was on, and the man affected not to notice the headdresses.
They walked outside. Police cars were pulling up to the hotel. Colene suffered a start of apprehension. She wanted to bolt and hide in the bushes, but Provos marched right toward the cars. She approached the first cop as he strode toward the hotel, and said something in her own language.
The policeman shrugged her off. “Ma’am, I don’t speak your lingo. We’re on other business. You’ll have to go to your embassy for a translator. Please stand aside.” He resumed his advance on the hotel.
Suddenly the sense of it registered. The police were looking for fugitives, not conspicuous foreigners! Provos had hidden them right under the pursuers’ noses.
Colene peered around for Slick’s car, but didn’t see it. He wasn’t here yet. But it was dangerous to linger long. What were they to do?
Provos didn’t hesitate. She walked right to a strange car driven by a bearded man and opened the rear door.
“Different car! Of course!” Colene breathed. She and Esta piled in after the woman.
Sure enough, the man in the cap and dark glasses and fake beard was Slick. Provos had remembered.
They pulled away from the hotel without event. They had made a clean getaway. “Provos, I don’t know what we’d have done without you!” Colene exclaimed. The woman nodded, removing her headdress; it had served its purpose.
“Got your call,” Slick said. “You played it close, kid.”
“Well, we didn’t want to rush breakfast,” Colene said. Esta tittered, and Slick smiled.
He drove several blocks, then parked. “Change cars,” he said. This was the kind of procedure he was accustomed to.
The other car was a rattletrap with a bad paint job. But when they got in and he started the motor, Colene recognized the sound of a racing machine. This thing could probably break speed records, if it had to.
They drove to a large shopping center. “We have a couple of hours to kill,” Slick said. “The plane takes off after your date with the prof. This is a good place to hide, and we can change your outfits while we’re at it.”
So they went shopping for clothing. Slick and Provos posed as the elders, while Colene and Esta were the school-age girls. They wound up with matching dresses and shoes. Then Provos got a new outfit, a somewhat severe business suit. They had been transformed again.
They stopped for milkshakes, which Provos liked; she acted as if it were her first experience, and for her it was. Then they returned to the car. It was time for Colene’s appointment with the professor.
Colene, nervous about what could go wrong, hardly noticed the university layout, despite the fact that she had once hoped to attend it herself. The University of Oklahoma was known as a football school, but this was the separate Science and Arts aspect, which was different. It was ironic that here she was, to see a professor, but she would never attend this school.
Soon they entered a building and found the professor’s chamber, which was a cozy den. There was a large aquarium by one wall, but it did not seem to have any fish in it. Colene had somehow expected a classroom, but of course this wasn’t any regular class. The professor was Osborae Felix, and what he called recreational math was his hobby rather than his specialty. He made them comfortable in easy chairs, then focused on Colene.
“If you don’t mind,” he said to her, “please tell me how you came to be interested in fractals. This will help me to orient on your need.” He was a man of middle age and receding hairline, but he did not wear glasses. Colene was trying to adjust her expectation; she had somehow imagined all professors with spectacles.
Colene shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe it, Prof.”
“Still, I would like to hear it.”
“I’ve just come from a fractal universe,” she said.
“Unsurprising. This is a fractal universe.”
“Oh, you mean the way ferns form the patterns and all?”
“And all,” he agreed. “We are constantly discovering new and subtle elements of our fractal existence, from the pattern of the distribution of galaxies in our universe to the phenomena of quantum mechanics. But I presume that is not what you have in mind.”
He was patronizing her. That made Colene react. “For sure. I just came from a world which was shaped exactly like a Mandelbrot bug. I need to find out how to find the ninth of the ninth.”
“You are referring to a model of the Mandelbrot set?”
“No, a world. The size of Earth. The rads are huge. And it’s a satellite of a much bigger world, which is the satellite of a still bigger one, and so on, nine worlds back. And the stars give off light. The whole universe is one monstrous Mandelbrot set.”