me, are the dogs into something?” But they weren’t: the two sheepdogs, Annie and Monty, came bounding out from around the corner of the house and leapt delightedly onto Kit and Nita, slurping any part of them not covered with clothes. A little behind them came Dudley the terrier, who contented himself with bouncing around them as if he were spring-loaded and barking at the top of his little lungs.
“Had dinner yet?” Carl called from the kitchen door, which, like the dining room doors, looked out on the backyard. “Annie! Monty! Down!”
“Bad dog! Bad dog! Nonono!” screamed another voice from the same direction: not surprising, since its source was sitting on Carl’s shoulder. This was Machu Picchu the macaw, also known (to her annoyance) as “Peach”: a splendid creature all scarlet and blue, with a three-foot tail, a foul temper, and a precognitive talent that could read the future for months ahead—if Peach felt like it. Wizards’ pets tend to become strange with time, and Seniors’ pets even stranger than usual; and Peach had been with them longer than any of the others. It showed.
“Come on in,” called one last voice: Tom. Kit and Nita pushed Annie and Monty more or less back down to dog level, and made their way into the house through the dining room doors. It was a pleasant, open place, all the rooms running freely into one another, and full of handsome functional furni-ture: Tom’s desk and computer sat in a comfortable corner of the living room. Kit pulled a chair away from the dining table and plopped down in it, still winded from his earlier wizardry. Nita sat down next to him. Carl leaned over the table and pushed a pair of bottles of Coke at them, sitting down and cracking a third one himself. Tom, with a glass of iced coffee, sat down too.
“Hot one today,” Carl said at last, putting his Coke down. Picchu sidled down his arm from his shoulder and began to gnaw thoughtfully on the neck of the bottle.
“No kidding,” Kit said.
“You two look terrible,” said Tom. “What’ve you been up to?”
For answer Nita opened Kit’s manual to the directory and pushed it over to Tom and Carl’s side of the table. Tom read it, whistled softly, and nudged the manual toward Carl. “I saw this coming,” he said, “but not this soon. Your mom and dad aren’t going to be happy. Where did she go?”
“Mars,” Kit said.
“Home,” Nita said.
“Better start at the beginning,” said Carl.
When they came to the part about the worldgate, Carl got up to go for his supervisory manual, and Tom looked at Kit with concern. “Better get him an aspirin too,” Tom called after Carl.
“I’m allergic to aspirin.”
“Acetaminophen, then. You’ll need it. How’d you manage to disalign a patent gateway all by yourself?… But wait.” Tom peered at Kit. “Are you taller than you were?”
“Two inches.”
“That would explain it, then. Hormonal surge.” Tom cleared his throat and looked at Nita. “You, too, huh?”
“Hormones? Yes. Unfortunately.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Well. Your wizardry will be a little more accessible to you for a while than it has since you got started. Just be careful not to overextend yourself… it’s easy to overreach your strength just now.”
Carl came back with his supervisory manual, a volume thick as a phone book, and started paging through it. Annie nosed Kit from one side: he looked down in surprise and took the bottle of Tylenol she was carrying in her mouth. “Hey, thanks.”
“Dear God,” Carl said. “She did a tertiary gating, all by herself. Your body becomes part of the gateway forcefields,” he said, looking up at Nita and Kit. “It’s one of the fastest and most effective kinds of gating, but it takes a lot of power.”
“I still don’t get it,” Nita said. “She doesn’t have a manual!”
“Are you sure?” Carl said; and “Have you taken delivery on a computer recently?” said Tom.
“Just this morning.”
Tom
“Had dinner yet?” Carl called from the kitchen door, which, like the dining room doors, looked out on the backyard. “Annie! Monty! Down!”
“Bad dog! Bad dog! Nonono!” screamed another voice from the same direction: not surprising, since its source was sitting on Carl’s shoulder. This was Machu Picchu the macaw, also known (to her annoyance) as “Peach”: a splendid creature all scarlet and blue, with a three-foot tail, a foul temper, and a precognitive talent that could read the future for months ahead—if Peach felt like it. Wizards’ pets tend to become strange with time, and Seniors’ pets even stranger than usual; and Peach had been with them longer than any of the others. It showed.
“Come on in,” called one last voice: Tom. Kit and Nita pushed Annie and Monty more or less back down to dog level, and made their way into the house through the dining room doors. It was a pleasant, open place, all the rooms running freely into one another, and full of handsome functional furni-ture: Tom’s desk and computer sat in a comfortable corner of the living room. Kit pulled a chair away from the dining table and plopped down in it, still winded from his earlier wizardry. Nita sat down next to him. Carl leaned over the table and pushed a pair of bottles of Coke at them, sitting down and cracking a third one himself. Tom, with a glass of iced coffee, sat down too.
“Hot one today,” Carl said at last, putting his Coke down. Picchu sidled down his arm from his shoulder and began to gnaw thoughtfully on the neck of the bottle.
“No kidding,” Kit said.
“You two look terrible,” said Tom. “What’ve you been up to?”
For answer Nita opened Kit’s manual to the directory and pushed it over to Tom and Carl’s side of the table. Tom read it, whistled softly, and nudged the manual toward Carl. “I saw this coming,” he said, “but not this soon. Your mom and dad aren’t going to be happy. Where did she go?”
“Mars,” Kit said.
“Home,” Nita said.
“Better start at the beginning,” said Carl.
When they came to the part about the worldgate, Carl got up to go for his supervisory manual, and Tom looked at Kit with concern. “Better get him an aspirin too,” Tom called after Carl.
“I’m allergic to aspirin.”
“Acetaminophen, then. You’ll need it. How’d you manage to disalign a patent gateway all by yourself?… But wait.” Tom peered at Kit. “Are you taller than you were?”
“Two inches.”
“That would explain it, then. Hormonal surge.” Tom cleared his throat and looked at Nita. “You, too, huh?”
“Hormones? Yes. Unfortunately.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Well. Your wizardry will be a little more accessible to you for a while than it has since you got started. Just be careful not to overextend yourself… it’s easy to overreach your strength just now.”
Carl came back with his supervisory manual, a volume thick as a phone book, and started paging through it. Annie nosed Kit from one side: he looked down in surprise and took the bottle of Tylenol she was carrying in her mouth. “Hey, thanks.”
“Dear God,” Carl said. “She did a tertiary gating, all by herself. Your body becomes part of the gateway forcefields,” he said, looking up at Nita and Kit. “It’s one of the fastest and most effective kinds of gating, but it takes a lot of power.”
“I still don’t get it,” Nita said. “She doesn’t have a manual!”
“Are you sure?” Carl said; and “Have you taken delivery on a computer recently?” said Tom.
“Just this morning.”
Tom
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