Wiz, lost in his thoughts, missed the shift completely. "I dunno," he sighed. "Sometimes I think it’s getting worse instead of better."
"Worse than you know," the redheaded witch said. "There are some who claim you hide your secrets from us behind a veil of deliberate obscurity. That in this way your power among us grows."
"Oh, bullshit! Look, I’m doing the best I can, all right? But I’m a rotten teacher and these people are so dense."
"Some of the wisest and most powerful of our wizards have placed themselves under your tutelage," Moira said sharply. "Are you so superior that they cannot learn the most elementary matters?"
"Of course not! But you people don’t think the way we do. I know they’re trying but they just don’t pick up the concepts."
"I understand that," Moira said more gently. "I remember what it was like when you tried to teach me this new magic. But Wiz, it makes problems for everyone."
"At least the ordinary people seem to appreciate what I’m doing. We’ve already got a few spells out there that anyone can use. ddt, the magic repellent spell, is everywhere and that’s solved a lot of problems. But I can’t do many more of those until I get the tools built. Meanwhile, I’m trying to teach the system to people who hate it and wasting time sitting in Council meetings listening to endless debates on nothing much."
Moira nodded sympathetically. Wiz was like a blacksmith with a good supply of iron and charcoal but no tools. Given time he could make his own tools, but until he got them made, there was very little else he could do. She wasn’t used to thinking of a spell as a thing built up of parts like a wagon, but by analogy she could understand the situation.
"If I could just get the other wizards to see that and take me seriously, I’d be a lot further along. Instead I have Ebrion claiming the spell compiler doesn’t work at all!"
"But doesn’t ddt show Ebrion and the others that your way of magic works?"
"It doesn’t penetrate. They see it as a clever hack and claim it’s like a non-magician using an enchanted item."
"But you created it!"
He shrugged. "So I’m a great magician. Any great magician could come up with something like that, they say. It’s all an accident."
"They should have been in the dungeons beneath the City of Night when you broke the Dark League single-handed!"
"They weren’t. Most of them didn’t find out about the attack until the day it happened and they never had a really clear picture of what was going on. Besides, they claim it only proves my magic was so alien the Dark League didn’t know what to expect."
Moira said something very unladylike under her breath.
Wiz made a face. "Look, the truth is they don’t see it because they don’t want to see it. I can’t fight that—at least not until I’ve got better tools and can teach some more people to use them."
He sighed. "I don’t know. I feel as if I’m being nibbled to death by ducks. If I could just put everything else aside and concentrate on writing code I could get this done. But the way it is now," he waved his hand helplessly over the books. "The way it is now I’ve got so many other things happening I just can’t stay with anything long enough to accomplish anything."
"Perhaps you could."
"Yeah, but I’ve got to have trained helpers. Until I get some people who understand this kind of magic I can’t do half the critical stuff."
Suddenly Moira brightened. "I have it!" She turned to Wiz excitedly. "You need help, do you not?"
"Yeah," Wiz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I need help."
"And there are many in your land who can do what you do?"
"More or less."
"Then the thing to do is to have the Council bring others to your aid. With the Dark League broken they can do a Great Summoning easily enough and…"
"No!" Wiz snapped around, shaking her arm off his shoulders.
Moira turned white and flinched back as if he had struck her.
"I’m sorry," Wiz said. "I didn’t mean to scare you. But no, I’m not going to have that on my conscience."
"Look, what Patrius did to me was a damn dirty trick." He took one of her hands in both of his. "I’ll admit it worked out well in the end, but it was still a terrible thing to do. Even with you and all the rest I still get homesick sometimes." He grinned lopsidedly. "There are times I’d trade almost everything for a sausage, pepperoni and mushroom pizza."
He took her in his arms. "Look darling, I know you mean well, but I can’t let you do that to someone else. Promise me you won’t try to yank someone else through."
Moira blinked back tears. "Very well." She tapped herself on the chest with her fist. "I swear I will not use a Great Summoning to bring someone else here from your world."
"And that you won’t influence anyone else to do it either."
She glared at him, but she swore.
"I’ll have to ask Bal-Simba to swear that oath tomorrow," he said, releasing her arms.
She stood up straight. "Very well then. What will you do?"
"It’ll work out," Wiz mumbled. "I’ll think of something."
"What? What will you do?"
"Something! Look, leave me alone, will you?" He shook her arm from his shoulder angrily.
Moira stood stiff and straight. "Very well, My lord." She turned and ran from the room.
Wiz half rose to follow her and then thought better of it. He sank back to the bench and turned his attention to the book in front of him.
Let her work it off, he told himself. She’ll come back when she’s calmed down some. It wasn’t a very attractive solution but it was the best he could think of at the moment.
Moira slammed the door behind her and stormed down the hall, the cloak she had hastily grabbed slung over her arm. By the time she reached the stairs she was crying openly. She paused at the landing to throw the cloak about her and raise the hood to hide her tears, then swept out into the main court.
She did not see the figure in the shadows at the foot of the stairs.
Well, well, Pryddian thought as Moira went past. Trouble in the Sparrow’s nest. He smiled to himself and continued down the corridor.
Five: Shiarra Again
Living with a programmer is easy. All you need is the patience of a saint.
Like the original Heart’s Ease, the new one was a stone tower with an attached hall. The stones of the tower still bore traces of the fire which had destroyed the original and the hewn logs of the halls shone white and new. The freshly raised building exuded the odor of woods; the faint sweet smell of oak from the floors and paneling, the resiny tang of pine from the walls and rafters and the perfume of cedar wafting down from the shingles that roofed the hall.
Gliding through the hall like a swan, Shiara the Silver absorbed it all. She could not see, but she could smell and she could touch. What she sensed pleased her very much.
The warmth streaming in through the diamond-paned windows told her the day was bright and sunny. Perfect for sitting outside and enjoying the feel of the summer breezes.