“Sounds about right. Well, what you gotta do is this. You got to feed the pigeons. Pigeons sacred to you now, hear me?
Never harm a pigeon. And you got to listen to people that come up and start talking to you. Can’t turn away when what they say hurts- You got to tell them what they need to know. And you got to speak me Truth inside you. And when you Know, you got to admit you Know. Got to balance the magic, I-Don’t know Wizard. Got to give away more than you get, all the time. If you don’t, that gray thing going to get you. And if that happens, don’t yell, well, Rasputin didn’t warn you. Now get him out of here, Cassie. I got to dance.“
They watched him leaping and whirling away. flashing black and silver in the sunlight. “Is dancing all he does?” Wizard had asked Cassie naively.
“Yeah.” she said mockingly. “All he does is Dance. And look at derelicts and find out if they’re wizards or not. And give wizards the rules of their magic. And keep the bogey-man away from the Seattle Center. Come on. Wizard.”
He trailed at her heels as they moved on the paths between the hillocks of grass. She stopped at a bench that overlooked water and ducks. She dropped into it gratefully and he copied her.
“Well?” she demanded suddenly. “What did you think of him?”
Wizard shrugged. “What I think of Rasputin is that what I think of him makes no difference at all. It’s like asking what I think of Mount St. Helens. It’s there, and it’s a hell of a lot bigger than me.”
Cassie laughed softly. “I never thought of him quite that way before, but you’re right. What I really meant was, what did you think about his theory on wizards?”
“Just what I said. I don’t know.”
“And you don’t want to make any guesses, do you? Well, I do. I have my own ideas on it. Think about this for a minute.
Think about the threads of color in a tapestry. When you need a bit of silver, for the shine on a river or the snow on a mountain top, you bring the silver threads up to the surface where they can be seen. Or if you need gold for the sheen on a princess’s hair. or the spark in a unicorn’s eyes, you bring that thread up.
But it’s not like the threads come and go. It’s more like they’re seen and unseen.“
He gave another shrug. He could tell she was getting into one of her obtuse moods. It was all going to be stories and parables for the rest of the day. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Cassie laughed wryly. “Rasputin named you well. Well, that’s how I think of us. And another thing. Imagine these special threads, silver and gold, say. The tapestry weaver doesn’t need them often. Maybe they’re hardly ever used together, but there they are, running along together behind the tapestry, and sometimes coming out on the front together to light up a mountain or deck the princesses’ robes. Think of what it would be like for those threads. Do you suppose they miss one another white they’re apart? And when they come together in the tapestry, do you suppose they’d remember the times before when they’d been woven together?”
She had lost him again. “Do you suppose,” he asked, “that we could scrounge some lunch? I’m starving.”
“I suppose,” she had laughed easily, but her eyes searched his with a hunger that was not for food.
Wizard opened his eyes and stared down at the pipe in his hand. He held his throat shut against the hot smoke and passed the pipe to Lynda. “You are feeling fine,” she told him. “I can tell by your eyes. Isn’t it funny. Mitch? When we get stoned, I talk even more and you get even quieter. I don’t think you’ve said a word since you finished the wine. Are you still in there?”
“I don’t know.” He gave her a sad and foolish smile. The I-Don’t-Know Wizard. That was him- He watched her drawing on the pipe and holding it down and then whistling smoke. She passed it back to him and rose languidly.
He was still holding his hit when she flapped the hat in front of him. “Put it on,” she demanded with a giggle. “I’ve just got to see you in the complete outfit. When I first saw the hat in the bag, I didn’t realize it went with the robe and cloak.
Let’s see it on.“
He set the pipe down on the table. He took the midnight hat from her hands and gazed in melancholy at its bent tip. “I don’t think I want to,” he said softly. Just looking at it filled him with the sadness of opportunities lost. “Put it away,” he requested, and handed it back to Lynda.
“Oh, come on‘” she urged, and before he could protest any more, she set it atop his head. He cringed his eyes shut. expecting the flash of magic and the tingle of power against his skull. Still expecting it. Fool. He heard only Lynda’s drawnout giggling. He opened his eyes to her.
“It’s perfect,” she gasped. “Oh, geez, it’s perfect. You really do look like a wizard. I never would have believed it. But with the robe and the cloak and the hat, I mean, your eyes have that mystic look, that kind of sad and weary look you see in old fairytale books about kindly wizards. It would be even better if you had a beard and mustache. But even without them, you really got the looks for it. Come on. sorcerer, work me some magic. Draw me one of them pentagon things and summon a demon. Do me a magic trick. Got any rabbits in that hat?”
“That’s a magician, not a wizard,” he told her, trying to smile with her. “And they’re pentagrams, not pentagons.” He tried to bring the words out lightly. But the skin of his face was stiff with dread, and a chill had invaded him when she spoke so lightly of summoning demons. His required no summoning. They lurked always, chill on the back of his neck.
Would he ever feel warm again?
“Oh, come on, magic man,” she pleaded in a voice gone husky. “Do a trick for me.” She paused infinitesimally. “Or turn a trick with me.” She giggled suggestively. “I shouldn’t tell you this, I really shouldn’t.” She dropped down beside him and put her hand on his knee as she lowered her voice to a naughty whisper. “You’ll think I’m kinky or something. But that outfit kind of turns me on. It makes you look so strange and wild somehow. And just now, when J looked at you, I remembered that you had nothing on underneath it. And I felt this kind of a tickly shiver that began you-know-where. You know, I always wondered why men were turned on when they found out a woman didn’t have a bra or panties on. Now I know. It’s the thought of you just being kind of loose and reachable under there.” Her hand dropped to his ankle and began to creep up under the robe.
Wizard flowed to his feet. He removed the cap from his head and let it drop with a thump upon the table. His newfound verbal skills rescued him. “Don’t you think you’re asking a bit much of me? You feed me a big meal after I’ve been cold and wet all day, pour a bottle of wine down me and men get me stoned. About all I’m ready for is eight hours of sleep.”
“Oh, you!” Lynda rebuked him, but she looked more tantalized than refused.
Wizard stood looking slowly around the room. He felt a lucidity upon him, an awareness that had been missing for a long time. He could not remember what had so engrossed him that he had been blind to his own life passing. Things were going to be easier now. What had he been thinking of, to try and live like this? For what? He was letting it go now, with relief. He was moving in with Lynda, flowing back into the stream of reality. She’d help him. He’d get some clothes, sleep in a bed at night, find a job…
“Lynda, what kind of a job should I look for?” ‘
She shrugged lightly. “What did you use to do?I‘
“I was a sniper.‘ The words came quickly, without any thought. They extinguished me flames of change that had burned so brightly just an instant before. But Lynda laughed.
“No, dummy. Before the army.”
“I was a kid.” Those words came heavily. Truth was on him, he thought to himself, and then tried to chase the phrase away. No magic about it. It was simply true and he had said it.