Games Wizards Play

Canberra: The Post-Semis Mixer

THERE WAS A MIXER that night in one of the bigger function rooms of the convention center, and it spilled out onto yet another of the terraces facing the lake. At least a few hundred people were there: wizards and their guests, people who’d fallen out of the first round but were continuing to follow the event, or others who were attending for the first time because things were getting more exciting.

Possibly the most relaxed people were the forty or so contestants who headed the deselected in this stage. Bigger and slightly more ornate deselection tokens had been handed out—they glowed silver—and some discreet trading was going on. Some of it was less discreet: Nita could see that the poker group had once again convened over in one of the corners, and a pile of blue- and green-glowing tokens from the previous round now had some sparks of silver in it.

Not quite so relaxed, of course, were the five finalists. Nita stood there shaking her head once more in amazement that Penn had managed to make it through. It was hard to reconcile the trembling, freaked-out guy she had nearly had to shove into the judging room with the judges’ brief assessment, published at the end of the round, of “a promising and generally well-constructed wizardry presented with some style and élan by a forthright and well-spoken contestant.” They must have really seen something there, though, Nita thought. I guess all that work that Kit and Dair and I did has paid off. But after this, it’s all up to him. And the spell . . .

Penn had recovered enough to be laughing and joking and showboating around the room the way he had on the night of the first round, swanning out onto the dance floor to bump and grind and boogie with anyone who would hold still long enough to let him get close. Nita noticed with some amusement that he was doing a lot better at finding dance partners as a finalist than he had as a survivor of the first round. Well, maybe that’ll keep him out of trouble for a while.

As for Mehrnaz, maybe she preferred not to dance, and as Nita looked around, she didn’t see her at all. Two of the three other finalists were standing by one of the food and drink tables, deep in conversation. Wonder if we’ve got a little something else besides competition going on there, Nita thought. One of the pair, a handsome, dark, broad-featured Finnish guy whose first name was Joona and whose second name had so many vowels that Nita had stopped trying to say it after the fourth or fifth attempt, was laughing as he drank some kind of near-beer, and was gazing out at the room as if he still couldn’t quite believe what had happened to him. The other one, a tall, willowy Indonesian girl named Susila Pertiwi, was drinking coconut water on the rocks and talking quietly to Joona between fits of laughter. This intrigued Nita, as both their projects had been highly involved and detailed—Susila’s having to do with microgravity management framed as a technology that conventional scientists would be able to “stumble across” in decades to come, and Joona’s involving the rerouting of cold water currents in the Atlantic to rejuvenate the Gulf Stream and heal the somewhat damaged southern Atlantic “heat-pump engine” that maintained healthy ocean temperatures but had recently been suffering on account of climate change.

Right now, though, the two of them seemed mostly occupied with making eyes at each other. Nita thought it was very cute. She hoped the fifth finalist, an Iowan guy whose name she thought was Maxwell and whose project she couldn’t remember for the life of her, was having as good a time.

“Yeah,” said a familiar voice in her ear, “they’re a real pair of lovebirds, aren’t they?”

Nita snickered at Carmela’s whisper. “Wondered when you’d get here,” she said. “I thought you’d decided to take another shopping day.”

“Woman does not live by shopping alone,” Carmela said. “Sometimes the excitement is elsewhere.”

The first sentiment struck Nita as ridiculous coming from Carmela, and she was opening her mouth to say so when she saw a slim, tall, dark-haired figure in black jeans and black T-shirt weaving through the crowd toward them with a dark drink in one hand. “Aha,” Nita said. “Might’ve known.”

“And what are you two plotting and planning?” Ronan said as he eased up to them, walking carefully to spare his pint of Guinness.

“The fall of empires, the destruction of civilization as we know it, the usual,” Nita said. “When did you get in?”

“Oh, just now. I was about to go to bed when suddenly the idea came to me, ‘Why don’t I transit halfway around the planet and completely screw up my internal scheduling for no particular reason?’” He took a solicitous slurp through the head of his pint and paused to wipe away the mustache.

“Well, I don’t care about the reasons. It’s nice you could make it.”

“And why wouldn’t I come? Seeing as somehow both you and Kit have managed to come out winners in this thing.”

Nita shook her head. “We’re not winners yet . . .” She swallowed. It was silly to think about things like jinxes; they didn’t exist. Still, she didn’t want to talk about the possibilities too much just yet.

“All the same,” Ronan said. “Thought I’d see you guys before the real stress begins.”

“And speaking of stress, what have you done to your head?” For Ronan had developed a bold silver-white streak springing from his part in the front.

“Took all the white hairs this one’s giving me and put them in one place,” Ronan said, flicking his gaze toward Carmela.

“I’m missing something,” Nita said.

“He’s going in with me on a trading venture,” said Carmela.

Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Nita. “Chocolate.”

“Oh God,” Nita said. Chocolate was unique to Earth, and fulfilled numerous roles among a multitude of alien species: currency, drug, priceless collectible, aphrodisiac . . . The sudden image of Ronan and Carmela as some kind of Han Solo and Princess Leia, transiting stealthily from one star system to another with cargoes of contraband cocoa, suddenly sank itself into her brain. “Maybe,” Nita said, “the less I know about this the better. Listen, have you seen Dairine?”

Carmela pointed over her shoulder to another table at the far end of the room. “She was after an iced coffee or something.”

“Okay. You going to be here for a while?”

“Till closing time. I’m looking to add some partners.”

“I’ll catch you later, then.”

She headed over to where Dairine was pouring cream into a tall glass of coffee and ice. “Feeling the strain, Dair?”

Her sister sighed. “It’s either this or those energy drinks, and they all taste awful. You okay?”

Nita nodded. “Not too bad.”

Off to the side, someone in the circle of guys and girls in the nearest corner said in a broad Aussie accent, “Dealer’s choice. Five card stud . . .”

It was Matt. “I’m in.”

“James, you’re always in. A veritable rock of innocence in a suspicious world.”

“Stop buttering him up, Matt. I’m in too.”

“Sarah! Good woman, you. Lesser beings have refused to come back for another round after such punishment.”

A tall blond lady slipped into the circle and got herself comfortable. “Hey, wait for me, Matt!”

“Couldn’t possibly start without you, Emily, wouldn’t be the same without your lovely carping when I clean you out.”

A hand reached down into the circle from behind Emily and handed her a diet Coke. “You’re going to want this.”

“Thanks, Rivka . . .”

Nita smiled, turned away from what was sure to be another bloodbath. “Where’s Mehrnaz?”

“Taking some personal time. She’s had . . . an interesting day so far.” Dairine glanced around and noticed the group sitting in the corner for the first time. “Wait, what are they up to over there?”

Oh no. Nita was all too aware of where Dairine had been getting a significant portion of her pocket money since she was in about fourth grade. “Dair . . .”

“What? Why shouldn’t I sit in?”

Nita could think of any number of reasons. “Dairine. They’re our cousins. Be merciful to them.”

Dairine cracked her knuckles. “No prisoners,” she said.

Oh God, Nita thought, glancing out the windows toward the lake as the dusk settled in, she’s going to own them all by the time the night is out. “I’d still like to talk to Mehrnaz . . . there’s hardly been any time.”

“She’ll be around later. I’ll tell her you were asking.” And Dairine was off, heading toward the poker game.

Nita sighed and sauntered off with what was left of her smoothie, and made her way around the dance floor. Benches and conversation pits were built into the walls on the side, and on one of the benches she spotted Penn taking a breather.

She wandered over to him. “How’re you holding up?” Nita said. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. “Thanks. It’s just that . . .” He shook his head. “There are times when, I don’t know, crowds get to me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’d have thought that would’ve been more of a problem for you in the first round. That place was really crammed.”

“I think at first I was too buzzed. Later in the day, it did start to get to me, and I kind of pushed through it . . .”

“Maybe it’s cumulative.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked up at Nita. “Because somehow, this morning when I went in there, I started seeing all those eyes looking at me. It felt like they were going to see something. Maybe something I didn’t want them to know.”

“I’ve had that,” Nita admitted. “Especially with the really powerful wizards, the Senior ones . . . Sometimes you get this feeling that they can climb inside your head. Or that they’ve done it already.” She laughed. “Doesn’t help that in some cases, they can . . .”

“Well, anyway,” Penn said, “thanks. You were terrific this morning.”

She was touched. “Thank you” was not something anyone heard often from Penn. “You’re welcome.”

And he grinned at her. “Maybe even as terrific as me!”

Nita narrowed her eyes at him, but still managed to find this funny. “Knew it couldn’t last. There’s the Penn we know . . .”

Too late she realized the opening she’d left him. “—and loooove?”

“All done now, Penn,” she said, waved airily, and walked away.

She went off to get herself yet another smoothie—I’m going to be so healthy this week, once this is over and I dump all the stress—and ran into Matt on the way back through the crowd. It was so surprising to see him not in the poker game that she laughed. “Bathroom break?”

“I wish! Your sister, not to name any names, cleaned me out.”

Nita shook her head. “She’s not safe to be around, Matt,” she said. “Ask the Lone One.”

“Don’t need to! Doki warned me when he saw her getting dealt in.”

Nita laughed. As good a time as any to deal with this. “Matt, I feel like a real idiot.”

“Why? Unless it’s too much hanging around with Bonzo Boy there. That’d do it for sure.”

He was looking back across the room at Penn, who was out on the dance floor again. “Not that,” said Nita. “It’s . . . well . . . I didn’t even realize you had a boyfriend!”

Matt laughed at her. “Don’t see why it should’ve jumped out at you! Last time you saw me, I was kinda busy saving that long gonzer’s life.” He jerked his chin at Ronan, who was just sitting down in the poker game, while Dairine favored him with a pleased and predatory look. “And then I buggered straight off. Didn’t have time to say ‘Hi I’m here to fix the hole in your chest caused by a magic spear and by the way I’m gay!’” And he started laughing harder. “I should get a T-shirt. Save a ton of time.”

“This would be the part of the evening where I die of embarrassment,” Nita said.

“Absolutely no reason,” Matt said. “He’d like you. You should come chat when you have time. But right now I think you’re probably busy keeping an eye on Bonzo.”

“He’s on my mind,” Nita said.

“How much?” Matt said, giving her a thoughtful look.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t want to worry some people,” Matt said.

Nita blinked. “What?” she said again. “Wait. You mean—you mean Kit? Worry about Penn?” She laughed at Matt. “Not the slightest chance.”

“Okay,” Matt said. “Just checking.” And he patted her on the arm and headed off.

Nita stood there for a moment, confused, and then went off to look for Kit.

Dairine had no intention of staying in the poker game very long . . . only long enough to distract herself from the stress of the previous hours. Mehrnaz’s distress had hit her hard.

It’s funny, she thought as she went over to the nearest food and drink table, where she acquired another iced coffee and a chicken salad sandwich. There she is, with her family so wealthy that she has to think about whether she’s rich or not. And all the times at home when Dad’s been short of money, and I’d think, If we just had a lot of money, everything would be okay. Except that all of a sudden it’s obvious that you can have lots and lots of money, but if your family’s not on your side . . .

Dairine sat down and disposed of the sandwich in about two minutes. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. My meals have been all over the place the last couple weeks, she thought. And when this is over I may need to take a vacation from onion bhajis for a while.

“I think this is maybe the first time I’ve seen you sitting down since this started,” said a voice above her.

Dairine looked up to see Irina standing there looking down at her, wearing a long, casual sundress in a bright floral print, and the usual baby-sling. The yellow parakeet was sitting on her shoulder, gazing around with vague interest. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, everything has been kind of busy . . .”

“I just wanted to have a quick word with you about the Farrahi business earlier,” Irina said.

“She and her people are really not good to Mehrnaz, Irina,” Dairine said. “They’re putting her through all kinds of crap, and it’s not right.”

“They’re also, unfortunately, fairly influential in that part of the world,” Irina said. She let out a long, annoyed-sounding breath. “You need to understand that what happens at an Invitational can be seen as sanctioned by the supervisory structure . . . And if what happens is embarrassing to a wizard or group of wizards who have significant influence over others, that can in turn affect who works with whom on what interventions, or who’s willing to cooperate or volunteer when there’s a problem. It can make a difference, regrettably, to the way the world works.”

Dairine put her plate aside and stood up. “Irina, if you had to apologize to her about me,” she said, “then I’m sorry. But the way they’re treating Mehrnaz is terrible. Her family is screwed up and her home life is one giant head game. They’re kicking her around like, I don’t know, a football or something, and if it doesn’t stop they’re going to screw up somebody who could be a really powerful wizard, really useful. More useful than the whole bunch of them.” She scowled. “And that aunt . . . She is a complete waste of time.”

Irina stood quiet for a moment. “I remember seeing something in one of your personality précis about your tendency to speak truth to power,” she said. “It wasn’t exaggerated.” And Irina smiled. “Or the bit about your loyalty, once you’ve decided someone’s worthy of it. Those qualities are all very well. But if it turns out the situation warrants it, and I can’t calm things down, I may require you to apologize formally to Mehrnaz’s aunt.”

Dairine scowled at her. “If I have to,” she said, “I’ll do it. But at a price.”

Irina’s eyebrows went up. The parakeet stared at Dairine and made a scratchy little scolding noise.

“I want somebody to look into her situation,” Dairine said. “Somebody who’s got the power to do something about it. It’s not fair for her to have to suffer like this.”

That smile came back again. “Not the kind of price one might have expected,” Irina said. “ . . . But I think we can agree on that. Meantime, you can help me out by writing up a description of what instigated the exchange. Be thorough. Give me at least three sets of reasons for what you did, each one better than the last.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Dairine said.

“Have it to me tomorrow morning, then,” Irina said. And she nodded to Dairine, resettled the baby sling, and walked off.

Dairine swallowed as it hit her what she’d said and done just a few minutes earlier. And Nita thinks her temper’s something, Dairine thought. Maybe the stress is getting to me . . .

She went off with her iced coffee to tour slowly around the room, looking for Mehrnaz. She was getting a sense, now, that Mehrnaz liked to be on the edge of things where she could see what was going on and make the decision whether or not she wanted to be drawn in. Sure enough, after five minutes or so Dairine spotted her over by the room’s back wall, leaning against it with her hands cupped in front of her and looking vague.

Dairine headed over to her. “You okay?”

“Sure. Just making dua.”

“Making do with what?”

“No! Making dua,” Mehrnaz said, amused. “Talking to God.” She shrugged.

“Oh.”

Mehrnaz laughed at Dairine. “What? It’s not like you’re not always saying ‘oh God’ this and ‘oh God’ that!” She smiled. “It’s not a big deal, I know it’s just how you talk. But God likes it when you make time for conversation. Likes to be asked for things, told what you need, told what you’re thinking. I mean, isn’t that some of why we’re here? It’s not like Allah needs anything. He likes to hear from us, that’s all. Is that iced tea?”

“Oh, no, coffee. The ice kind of watered it down.”

“Tea, I really need some tea . . .”

“Then let’s go get you some. I just had a talk with Irina . . . best you know what happened.”

The evening went on. Kit had spent a while letting himself be drawn into new groups, chatting with people he hadn’t seen since the Pullulus War. It’s very relaxing. Which is a bit of a surprise: sometimes I get so stressed meeting people. But these are my people. Wizards . . .

He’d purposely been trying to give Nita some space today. Some remark she’d made to him earlier about the two of them “living sheltered lives” had stuck with him. She doesn’t need me looking over her shoulder all the time. There have to be people here she’d rather be talking to without me standing there hanging on every word! Still, his eyes kept roving, seeking her out . . .

Like now. Across the room Kit caught sight of Nita talking briefly to Penn as he was coming off the dance floor. Something inside him squeezed uncomfortably at that. First of all, she looked so good. She’d dressed for summery weather in a little flowery skirt and a kind of low-cut pink top and pink flats, and she looked altogether . . .

Hot. The word you’re looking for is hot. Admit it.

The problem was, he had trouble admitting it. There were lots of girls he thought of That Way, but it wasn’t until recently that he’d ever found himself looking at Nita That Way.

And it was so strange. Sometimes it was all perfectly natural, and he saw her looking back at him and got the sense that she really liked him looking at her That Way. On Mars, for example: the old Martians’ casual daywear, what there was of it, had suited Nita brilliantly—the glint of precious metals in the bodice and hip harness, the flow of translucent veils in that thin Martian wind. Mmf! he thought, flushing a little at the thought.

Then Kit laughed at himself. I’m like some cartoon character with my eyes bugging out. But at the same time, there was no point in pretending otherwise: he liked the feeling. And he’d started wondering, in a casual way, what kinds of feelings she might like. It wasn’t something he spent more than a few hours a week on the Internet researching, and he always made sure to scrub his search history very thoroughly afterward. Where Carmela was concerned, Internet privacy was a concept that afflicted only lesser minds.

He saw Nita make a laughing, dismissive gesture at Penn, a sort of go-away wave, turn her back on him, and walk off. Better, Kit thought. Because as for him . . . even if she were interested in him, which she’s not, he’s nowhere near good enough for her. He doesn’t even know how to see her as a human being. The things he says, honestly . . . somebody should kick him.

Kit sighed and kept on wandering. Why do I see her more clearly when we’re around other people? It’s weird.

Meantime, there were additional distractions. The music of all the voices around him, all the different accents, sometimes using the Speech, sometimes in English, fascinated him. One group of voices, briefly laughing raucously, got his attention, and one voice, recently gone deeper than he remembered it, dominated.

“She is getting hotter by the minute,” it said, “but a wise wizard wouldn’t get too closely involved. She’s armed and dangerous. In fact she’s dangerous whether she’s armed or not.”

“Terrific, though.”

“A real looker.”

“You’d have to wonder what she’d be like.”

“Just look at her, are you kidding?”

“Now, now, kind of objectifying there . . .”

“I would say the divine Ms. Rodriguez is absolutely worth objectifying.”

“With that hair . . .”

“And that butt . . .”

“I can think of somewhere she could sit that down!”

Kit’s eyes widened. He slipped quietly close to the group from behind.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, “but are some of you guys discussing hitting on my sister?”

A shocked silence fell as all eyes present turned toward him. Some of them went confused. Some went embarrassed. “More than hitting on her!” Kit said. “That was sex being discussed!”

The silence got deeper.

“I mean, seriously, have a little respect,” Kit muttered into it.

Most of the group looked abashed. Ronan looked innocent.

“No, he’s absolutely right!” Matt said, looking around. “Completely inappropriate! So cut it out and let’s talk about something besides Carmela’s sex life.”

Kit breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s talk about Kit’s sex life.”

Kit stopped breathing.

Penn, Nita thought, shaking her head.

She visited one of the drinks tables again—I am so smoothied out, no more of those—and found some kind of unfamiliar Australian lemonade, extremely sharp and very refreshing. With this she strolled to the outside terrace and leaned on the railing there, watching the lights of the city twinkle on the water of the lake across the road.

Down the railing, something moved. Nita glanced that way and got a glimpse in the dimness of an orange jumpsuit. “Liss!”

“It’s getting warm in there again,” she said. “Even here they don’t seem to have the hang of the air-conditioning . . .”

Nita laughed and made her way down the terrace. “More kinds of heat going ’round in there than one,” Nita said.

“Uh oh,” Lissa said. “Don’t tell me. Penn?”

“He keeps getting weird with me and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Lissa sighed. “Well, I don’t know that I’m the right one to be asking for advice,” she said, “as I’ve got absolutely no interest in any boys that way, so I’m short on data.”

That made Nita blink. Oh my God, is she like Matt and again I haven’t noticed? “Yeah, I know, he—”

“Or any girls, either. Or anybody.”

“Oh,” Nita said. I am such an idiot. She’s a virgin and she’s perfectly okay with me knowing that, she is so brave—And then she lost her train of thought, because Lissa had kind of an unexpected smile on her face.

“Because the sex thing,” Lissa said, “I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, I thought I was getting that,” Nita said.

“I didn’t say I hadn’t done it,” Lissa said. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. I said, I don’t do it.”

“Uh. You’re . . . you’re, uh, celibate?” Nita had meant it to come out as a statement. But instead it came out as a question as Lissa’s smile changed again and she seemed positively amused.

“Nope, I’m ace,” she said. Nita blinked.

“Asexual,” Lissa said.

Nita took a breath. “Wow” was all she could think of to say. I keep saying that lately. To everything. I am the least interesting person in the world.

But Lissa was grinning, and now she burst out laughing. “That is the best reaction,” she said, “the very best—!” And peal after peal of her laughter rang out and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Perfect, just perfect, what a breath of fresh air!”

Nita felt both relieved and somehow obscurely annoyed. “Have I been some kind of idiot again?” she said. “Please say no.”

“No,” Lissa said.

“Relationship and physicality,” said a dark voice from off to one side, sounding a touch amused. “Always so fraught . . .”

They both looked farther down the railing. Darkness loomed in darkness there, wrapped in shadows.

“Uh, hi,” Lissa said, sounding uncertain.

“Pluto, Lissa,” Nita said. “Lissa, Pluto.”

Lissa’s eyes went wide in the darkness and the near-full moonlight on the water. “As in the Planetary?”

“That’s him,” Nita said. “Come on over, elder cousin, don’t be shy. . . .”

The shadows moved closer, coming to rest at Nita’s left elbow. “I wouldn’t like to intrude.”

“You’re not.” She looked up into that darkness, trying again to catch a glimpse of the difficult-to-see eyes. “Relationships, though . . . Don’t tell me you’ve got trouble that way. Sounded like you didn’t mind what Jupiter and Saturn had going . . .”

“Of course not. They’re of consenting age,” Pluto said. “When one’s over two billion or so, what one does with another body is one’s own business.”

Lissa spluttered with delight.

“But out in the further reaches it can be different, the distances are so great. One can feel a bit left out. Even in my original system, I was the furthest distant. The last formed . . . all the best elements pretty much gone at that point.” He paused. “You gather yourself together as best you can from what’s available. And then start circling, doing the eternal Round: trying to find out what’s going to happen in your life . . .”

Nita looked over at Lissa. “Left out . . . You ever feel that way?”

Lissa shook her head. “About sex? No. Do you feel dragged in?”

Nita laughed helplessly. “God yes! And not by Kit. By other people.”

Lissa nodded. “So did I until I realized it just wasn’t for me. But once I found a special friend, someone who mattered without the sex being what it was about . . .” She smiled. “Things got sorted.”

Nita looked over to the darkness at her elbow. “You’re so far out there,” she said, “and you can’t do the resonance thing quite the way Jupiter and Saturn do . . .”

“There are differences,” Pluto said. “Neptune and I have an old periorbital relationship; the occasional amiable gravitational interaction . . . two neighbors waving as they pass on opposite sies of the street.” There was a slight smile to be sensed inside that darkness. “But there are many other consolations, other ways to fulfill your passions and be intimate with the universe in singularity: for even great distance need not imply isolation. In my place, you learn darkness, and the uses of it. Cold, and the mastery of it. Emptiness, and the secrets it holds. You learn strength: the certainty of iron, the stability of stone. You hold those places, those states, as a reference for others. Let stone melt to magma elsewhere, let iron melt to slag: you know solidity, and hold the reference true. And because that’s what Life’s given you to do, you do it well and steadfastly. There’s joy in that.” He was silent for a bit: but then, all his words seemed to Nita to rise out of a great silence. “And if sometimes you yearn for closeness to the inner circle, you learn to know that you already have that closeness in the work Life’s given you. You guard the outer boundary of the circles of Life, sweeping up matter that could come to threaten lives closer to the warm heart of things. In their name you hold the space of Strength in Emptiness, and gladly make your rounds . . . and maintain.”

Lissa nodded. “I did that for a long time,” she said. “Just kind of waited, you know? I always knew something else was going on with me but I didn’t know the words for it. It wasn’t anything to do with not being able to be in love! God, I crushed as hard as anyone else. But the whole physical end of things? Pff.” She waved a hand in the air. “No interest.”

“But then things changed,” Nita said.

“Yeah, I found the Special One,” Lissa said. “The one who got that there were other ways to be close.” Her voice went quiet and musing. “Kind of sudden and unexpected. But I should have expected it, really. Change is what life’s about . . .”

“It was so for me as well,” Pluto said. “When I was a far smaller planitesimal, my star died. Oh, nothing spectacular! It swelled, it ate its inner worlds; then everything collapsed and went cold. So I waited: maintained, as I’d always done. And things shifted, as they always do. Turbulence in the starstream, gravitational fields shifting; benevolent chaos brushes up against you. A black hole wandered by from the madder spaces near the Galaxy’s heart. It knocked me loose and sent me tumbling out into the dark. And then I traveled hopefully, as they say, for a long time. And finally, there came that first brush of gravity and warmth, out at the edge of the Sun’s radiopause. Such a kind eager little star, so small and solid and golden. It reached for me and drew me in, and so I found a home again in the outer reaches, among many others; some of whom have become one with me since.”

“All that time by yourself, though . . .” Nita said.

“It was worth that wait,” Pluto said. “I am home now.”

“Definitely worth it,” Lissa said, “even if finding the way takes a while. There’s always somebody that you’re the Special One for.”

“Patience,” Pluto said, “is key . . .”

They were all quiet for a few moments. “Your Penn guy—he’s looking for the Special One, too, maybe? But not waiting. Just grabbing at whatever gets close enough . . .”

“Could be,” Nita said. “Or trying to find something to replace something he’s lost. Not that I want to get close enough to find out. Because—” She paused. “There’s something else. Gut feeling—a visionary’s supposed to trust that, I think.” She shivered. “But right now I feel like a TV with a busted remote. Half the time, I get every channel but the one I want. And some of the ones I see, right now, I really don’t like.”

“But without getting into that,” Lissa said, “you were going to say you think Penn’s got something different going on with him.”

“Maybe.” And it flared again in Nita’s mind, that image of the stranger-Kit, staring at her with empty eyes. And Carmela, near tears, grabbing her, shaking her, begging her not to let them get Kit, whatever she did. Nita shivered. “And I don’t know where to go with that.”

Lissa shook her head.

“Stay in the Now,” said the dark regard fixed on Nita from the other side. “The Now is where all useful work is done. To plan for the future, to anticipate it: these are prudent. But to live in it? For those of us grounded in the world of time and matter, that’s mere folly. The Now is where we and the One brush shoulders. The only place.” And then Nita got a sudden sense of uncertainty from that otherwise very solid and grounded presence. “Was that the right idiom? ‘Shoulders’?”

“It’s usually ‘rub,’” she said, and smiled. “Close, though.”

And from inside, then, came a sudden roar of applause.

“Huh,” Lissa said. “What’s going on in there?” She peered toward the doors. “Some kind of big circle—”

A bare second later, something went through the back of Nita’s mind like a hot needle: the feel of a spell getting ready to fire.

“Oh my God,” Nita said softly. “Kit. What is he doing?”

The evening was wandering gently along to what Kit thought was probably going to be its conclusion. The dance floor was emptier than it had been; people had started saying their good nights an hour or so before. Matt and the other guys whom Kit had been speaking to earlier, except for Ronan, had already left. Carmela had left as well, apparently for the Crossings, to talk to Sker’ret about furthering one or another of her nefarious schemes.

Kit yawned—it had been a long day—and headed over to the drinks table to see if he could find one of those canned iced coffees before going to find Nita. He was rummaging around in the very depleted magical cold drinks bin, unable to locate anything there but beer, which he didn’t want—when the voice said from behind him, “Looking for a nightcap?”

Penn. Kit sighed. From what Nita had told him about his state this morning, he was pretty much fully recovered now, getting bolder and braggier by the hour as he forgot how embarrassed he’d been. Kit moved the last few cans around, found one of the little skinny beige-and-brown coffee cans, grabbed it, and popped its top. “Nope,” he said, having a drink, “I think I’m about done. Gonna find Nita and call it a night.”

“I can see why you might want to,” Penn said. “Finally, I can see it. She was so strong with me this morning, and I never saw that in her before.” He had a sip out of the bottle he was carrying. “I guess I’m big enough to admit I was a bit wrong about some stuff. Her power levels, anyway. And what she knows how to do with them. The manual doesn’t lie, after all.”

“So you can read,” Kit said, amused. “Nice to hear.”

“Yeah, I can,” Penn said. “But can you read what’s going on right in front of you? You don’t deserve her, Kit. You’ve been taking her for granted for a long time.”

He was getting loud, and some heads were beginning to turn. Kit’s mouth quirked a little in distaste. “Penn,” he said, “this isn’t a conversation I want to have with you. We’ve got a lot of work to do in the next few days before the finals . . . so let’s finish this up for tonight and head home, okay?”

Penn gave Kit a narrow-eyed look. “Yeah, I bet you don’t want to have this conversation,” he said, more loudly. “Because what I’m saying’s true, isn’t it? Anybody who appreciated what he had would’ve made a move by now.”

More heads were turning nearby. Even some people on the dance floor now, sensing the sudden tension in the room, had stopped to stare. In the increasing quiet, Kit’s voice became a lot more audible. “Another wizard,” Kit said, “another person, isn’t someone you can have. They might share themselves with you. But if you’re going to get all grabby-hands about them, then you deserve to be dumped on your butt.”

Kit couldn’t help glancing at the bottle Penn was holding. Penn’s expression went belligerent. “Oh, come on,” he said. “I don’t need to be drinking to be brave enough to take you on!”

“Not what I was thinking,” Kit said. He shook his head. “I don’t want to do this, Penn . . .”

“Of course you don’t. Nobody likes to lose.”

The silence around them was increasing. “If you don’t want me as your mentor,” Kit said, “say the word and I’ll step away.”

“Go right ahead,” Penn said. “Nita’s committed. I’ll keep her.”

Kit just looked at him.

“And why shouldn’t I? Because admit it, you’re on the downhill slide. Your high-powered days are behind you now. That’s why you’re mentoring, after all.” Penn smiled. “Those who can’t do . . . teach.”

Around them, the quiet went dead silent.

Kit felt the flush rising to his face. And to think we had the idea that maybe he was done being a jerk, he thought. Okay, then. He’s spoiling for it. Time to teach him some manners.

“Fine,” Kit said, raising his voice into the stillness. “I really don’t need to be listening to this. We’ve got hard work ahead of us at the finals, and there’s no point in letting stuff fester. So let’s find someplace where the ground suits.”

All around them, there was the sound of breath being pulled in. “Does the ground suit?” was the question asked by a wizard offering another one the opportunity to duel.

“Right here’ll do,” Penn said, glancing around them. “Even you’ve got enough expertise not to damage anything.”

“Let’s make double sure,” Kit said. “Keep it inside a force field. Who’ll hold it for us?”

Ronan came striding with some urgency from the far side of the room and stopped in front of Kit, bending his head down. “Are you seriously going to waste your time on this little twat?”

“No more than about five minutes of it,” Kit said.

“You are bloody buggering insane, have you ever even done this before?”

He hadn’t, but the phrase I’ll keep her was ringing over and over again in Kit’s head like a gong and making it impossible for him to feel anything but a deep, cold anger. “First time for everything,” Kit said. “So are you going to hold the force field or not?”

Ronan stepped back a couple of paces, shaking his head. “Clear back, people,” was all he said.

Murmuring, the people who’d been in the center of the room started backing away. Penn walked out into the space they’d left and Kit followed, wishing Penn would change his mind. But it plainly wasn’t going to happen.

In the center of the empty space, they turned to face each other, and Kit swallowed. He’d been the one to offer the challenge phrase, so it was Penn’s right to pick the manner in which the duel would be conducted. “What’s the paradigm?” Kit said

Penn was grinning. “Elemental,” he said. “Pick two elements, stay inside them. No sliding out; changing into a nonelected element disqualifies you immediately. Best four falls out of seven. Leaving the agreed space is an instant forfeit. Winner’s the one who forces the other out of an element or makes it impossible for them to change between the two. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Kit said.

“Pick your two,” said Penn.

“Earth and water,” Kit said.

“So passive-aggressive,” Penn said. “Perfect. Air and fire for me.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “If the ground suits,” he said, “shut up and get on with it.” He shifted his gaze to Ronan. “Got the field sorted?” he said.

Ronan had his eyes closed as he consulted his Knowledge-based version of the manual. Now he flipped his hands open in a “Not my problem now, you idiots . . .” gesture, and the faint shimmer of a hemispherical force field domed up around them.

Penn vanished, or seemed to.

Kit closed his eyes and whispered the words he needed, dissolving.

The principle behind the kind of shape change you used for this sort of duel was uncomfortably simple. You dissociated your consciousness from your body’s matter, and used that as raw material to mimic other kinds, states and masses of matter. Key to coming back to your own form after such a bout was making sure that you had your own bodily structure and elemental construction locked down correctly before you shifted out.

That was a simple business for someone who was used to working with the Mason’s Word, and there were few spells Kit knew better. Or maybe one, he thought. Save that for later . . . Before the force field was even up, he’d had the coded matrix for his own body’s structure laid out in his mind, and he’d saved all the pertinent data to it. It was fail-safed as well: should he be incapacitated, his mind would find its way back to his reconstituted body automatically.

Okay, Kit thought. Let’s start out basic. He’d been immaterial for a few moments, and already the space inside the force field was being buffeted by a ferocious wind meant to keep him from coalescing. Don’t think so, Kit thought, and pulled up into the forefront of his mind the structure of a large granite boulder—

All around him he could feel the wind changing tack, blowing at him with force and pressure impossible except in places like Venus. And here came the heat, too. Between the wind and the fire, flakes and granules of sand were being eroded swiftly off the structure of his granite. The air inside the force field went thick and gritty with his own substance that was being stolen from him. If this went on for more than a minute or so there wouldn’t be much of him left—

He shifted elements, letting go of the hard lattices of stone and letting all his atoms slide into liquid state, into water, completely filling the body of the force field. Wind can’t blow if there’s nowhere to blow to—

He heard a screech of frustration, much dulled by the weight of the water. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got next—

Terrible actinic light erupted inside Kit, blinding him and stabbing him with pain. It was plasma, burning the water in the middle of the dome, combusting it away to hydrogen and oxygen. Gas started to fill the upper part of the dome, and Kit could feel Penn starting to pressurize it, meaning to break the force field and push Kit’s water form out past its boundaries to make it forfeit.

Nope, Kit thought, no way, and shifted elements again, back to earth this time in the form of the extraordinarily energy-resistant green metal that the Martians had used. It flowed gleaming green in the space and solidified into the shape of one of the Martians’ giant scorpion-pets, a heavily-clawed and armed sathak.

Instantly fire flowed around him, but the sathak-constructs that Kit was mimicking were impervious to that. It’s so perfect, Kit thought. He wants to go big and flashy. He thinks water and earth are weak because they’re not violent and showy—

Kit, Nita yelled at him, what the hell are you doing?!

Who was it who said he needed some slapping down? Kit said. The temperature of the fire was increasing, but he could resist it for the moment.

Not like this!!

Are you kidding? Just like this! This is the first time he’s fully engaged with anything since we’ve met. He’s always held something back so he can concentrate on playing Most Alpha Guy On The Block. Not now, though!

Then Kit realized he’d better start paying attention again, as Penn had switched tactics and was now blasting his metal scorpion with pure oxygen and sulfide gases. Between them Kit was being simultaneously bathed in acid and rusted away in huge unnerving flakes. Okay, not good, Kit thought, what’s a good response—?

You shouldn’t be doing this! Nita was shouting at him. You’re enjoying it way too much!

I absolutely am enjoying it. Incredibly. And you would be too if you’d heard the kind of things he was saying about you. In fact you’d be helping!

She didn’t answer, just stood there fuming. Fuming, Kit thought, there’s a good idea. Let’s get volatile. Sodium? Naah, too quiet.

Magnesium—

Kit’s scorpion slumped into a dusty pile of silvery metal grains. The acids and the pure oxygen hit it and its surface began instantly to bubble. Kit felt the instant shock of alarm go through Penn as he tried to change into something less reactive, but too late, the magnesium ignited—

The explosion that followed was tremendous and deafening, even inside the force field. For a moment things were quiet: then came a scream of rage, followed by the force field being filled entirely by a ravening ball of compressed plasma, pure star-core.

Kit screamed with the burn of it. But he still had an answer as his magnesium atoms started to burn away. Just enough left, and don’t forget the gravity damper—

A second later the inside of the force field was completely coated with the thinnest imaginable skin of collapsed matter, so dense and dead black it could hardly be seen. Because there’s more than one kind of star-core, little boy!

Inside the shell Kit could hear Penn raging and screaming in plasma form, but there was nothing he could do: he was trapped. Very slowly Kit began to collapse the skin of hyperdense matter around him, and inside it the plasma started to burn lower under the increased pressure. Penn was choking as Kit slowly put his fire out.

Give up, Penn, Kit said silently.

No!

Kit squeezed tighter. The shell collapsed smaller and thicker every moment: the size of a beach ball, the size of a basketball. Say it!

No—

Penn’s voice was weaker, the fire was almost entirely out now, he was gasping—

—the size of a softball, and there was hardly a spark of plasma left burning in it now. Say it!

A final desperate gasp, and then—The ground’s yours! Penn whispered. The ground’s yours, let me—

Kit let the spell go and called his matter back to make up his body again.

The force field vanished. Kit was lying there on top of Penn in clothes that were acid-burned and sandblasted and very much the worse for wear. Penn’s clothes were scorched and stained and his flipflops were melted. Kit started getting up—

To find himself staring up into the furious face of Irina Mladen, and the outraged parakeet on her shoulder, which was flapping its wings and shrieking at him. The baby, surprisingly, was asleep.

“Up,” Irina said, “both of you.”

Kit and Penn struggled to their feet.

“Your team is suspended until I decide whether you should be allowed to compete further,” Irina said. “Go home. I want to see you both tomorrow. I’ll send for you.”

And she disappeared.

Penn threw Kit a withering glance, turned his back on him, and took a few steps toward Nita. “Did you see what I—”

“Don’t,” Nita said in a voice like someone contemplating murder. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything, he started it, everyone here saw it—”

“Penn, shut up! This wasn’t about you, don’t pretend this was about him, this was about me somehow. Why are you so damn fixated on me?”

“Because you have something I need!”

It was a cry of pure rage and anguish that froze Kit where he was, it was so unexpected.

Nita didn’t sound impressed. “Well, what?”

“I don’t know!”

And a dead silence fell.

Nita seemed powerless to do anything but stand there and shake her head. “Look,” she said, “I’m done with you for today. Actually I’m done with both of you at the moment, but him I’ll forgive. I guess,” she said, pointing at Kit. Then she glared at him. “When I get over being fought over like some prize out of a bubblegum machine!”

She swung on Penn. “And as for you! I made a promise, and if Irina lets me keep it I’ll keep mentoring you with Kit if it kills me. If it kills both of us, because all this crap has to be about something. Now go the hell home and don’t let me see either of you until you’re done with Irina!”

And she vanished, too.

Kit and Penn stood there staring at each other, then sullenly turned their backs on each other and walked away.

I don’t get it, Kit thought. That was for her. Why doesn’t she get it?

. . . Girls!!