Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Reign of the Brown Magician

But burning him would be murder, and Pel was astonished that it had taken him so long, a good three or four seconds, to realize this.

Besides, this man might know what had become of the fetch, and where the hairbrushes and wastebaskets were.

“Hello,” Pel said, letting the matrix amplify and distort his voice into an echoing roar. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, as he began fighting down the matrix glow.

“Major Reginald Johnston, U.S. Air Force,” the stranger said, squinting through glare. “And you, I take it, are Pellinore Brown?”

“I want my fetch,” Pel said. “And those hairbrushes, and stuff.”

“No problem,” Johnston said. “You keep the portal open, and I’ll send him right through.” He reached inside his uniform jacket. “Let me leave my card-if you or Ms. Nguyen comes back to Earth, I’d appreciate a call.”

Pel blinked at him, at the proffered business card-the little white pasteboard rectangle seemed weirdly out of place here in Faerie, in Shadow’s throne room, lit by the light of the great matrix.

He accepted it, not with his hand, but with a tendril of magical energy. From Johnston’s point of view the card simply sailed through the air to Pel of its own volition, but Pel could see the strands of magic supporting it, the twisted shape of the air that carried it to him.

“And if there’s anyone you’d like me to contact-your firm, perhaps, Ms. Nguyen?”

Susan didn’t reply; Pel glanced at her sharply as he picked the card out of the air.

“Sure, tell them she’s okay,” he said.

Pel remembered that he had two sisters, a mother, and some friends back on Earth who might be worrying about him; he was about to mention that when Johnston spoke again.

“While I understand why you’re staying here, Mr. Brown,” Johnston said, “why is Ms. Nguyen? You aren’t holding her against her will, are you?”

“No!” Pel snapped. He frowned and glanced at Susan again.

She wasn’t moving; she was just standing there, watching the two men.

“She’s free to go,” Pel said. “If she wants to go back to Earth, she can.” He hesitated, then added, “I admit I enjoy her company here, though.”

“Ms. Nguyen?”

Susan shrugged, and Pel felt a surge of anger. Why was she doing this? She was acting like a zombie; this Major Johnston would think that she was drugged, or hypnotized.

“Answer him,” Pel said.

“I’m fine, Major,” Susan said. “Thank you for your concern.”

Johnston was studying her from a few feet away, but then he shrugged, just as she had a moment before. “Whatever you like,” he said. “Mr. Brown, thank you for your cooperation. You don’t mind if I leave a man stationed in your house until you return to Earth?”

“Not at all,” Pel said, not really concerned. That was on Earth; he wasn’t going back to Earth until he could bring Nancy and Rachel with him.

“Um…if you don’t mind my asking…”

“Yes, Major?”

“Have you had any contact recently with the Galactic Empire? I mean, since you reached this place?” He gestured at the throne room.

Johnston had explained about the investigation, about questioning Amy and Prossie and poor Ted, but the inquiry still somehow struck Pel as odd-a major in the U.S. Air Force, in uniform and on duty, talking about a Galactic Empire?

Pel had gotten accustomed to the reality of this strange new world he had found himself in, this not-quite-a-story of wizards and spaceships and monsters where he had inadvertently become master of an entire universe, but it still seemed bizarre and somehow wrong that it could interact so freely with the normal, everyday world of Earth. An Air Force officer didn’t belong in Shadow’s fortress, and shouldn’t be worrying about the Galactic Empire.

But here Johnston was, with a serious question.

“No,” Pel said. “Why do you ask?”

Johnston hesitated. “I’m not sure whether I should be telling you this, but…what the hell. The Empire sent a scouting party through their space warp recently-four men climbed down a ladder in Ms. Jewell’s back yard, and were taken into custody.”

“What did they want?” Pel asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know,” Johnston said. “I’d like to find out.”

“They won’t say?” Before Johnston could answer, Pel remembered his stay at Base One. “No, they won’t, will they? Bunch of pompous idiots.”

Johnston smiled.

“Okay, well, I don’t know anything about it,” Pel said. “It isn’t really any of my business unless they come poking around here, but if I find out anything I’ll send a message through. This isn’t America here, but I’m still a U.S. citizen, I guess-I sure don’t owe the Empire any favors!”

Johnston nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. That’s all we ask.”

“Yeah, well,” Pel said, “I ask for my fetch back.”

* * * *

Best sighed and leaned back against the tree.

Two hundred miles to Shadow’s fortress-that was going to be a damned long walk.

He would have to walk, though-the locals didn’t seem to have any other means of transportation. They knew what horses were, but seemed to take his questions about buying one as nonsense-apparently only the hereditary nobility rode on horseback. And oxen were just for plowing, as far as he could see.

Oxen would be impossibly slow, in any case.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t have to travel the entire distance to find out what was going on; surely, news and rumor would spread. So far he hadn’t picked up anything useful, but he and his men were still out in the sticks.

At least, he thought as he looked around at the muddy, malodorous little yard where he’d traded an hour’s labor in the fields for a meal and directions, he hoped they were still out in the sticks.

* * * *

Pel watched as Johnston stepped warily into the portal and vanished, back to Pel’s own basement back on Earth.

Someday, when he had Nancy and Rachel back, when he got tired of playing with the matrix magic, got tired of this medieval mess of a world with its stone walls, its goddess worship, its open sewers, Pel would want to step back through just such a portal. He wondered if he could do that with one of his own creation.

Probably not. He’d have to get Taillefer back here and have him do it.

This Johnston seemed like a sensible sort, really-not at all like the assholes running the Galactic Empire, Carson and Southern and the others, and not like the ignorant barbarians who made up most of Pel’s own empire.

Or maybe it was just a matter of cultural differences, since after all, Johnston was a fellow American, and whatever else the Imperials and the locals might be, they weren’t that. Maybe they weren’t really stupid; they’d just grown up with a completely different background. Pel knew that foreigners weren’t stupid back on Earth, despite what the bigots might say, and he supposed it must be the same with these people.

In any case, it was good to know something of what was happening back on Earth, good to know that Johnston was there, that there was someone to contact in case of emergency. Pel didn’t feel anywhere near as isolated as he had just a few moments before.

Of course, that assumed that Johnston had been honest, and Pel would have a possible indication of that in just a few minutes, when his fetch either returned or didn’t.

Johnston certainly seemed honest enough, and intelligent-he had figured out who Pel was readily enough, and he had asked about the Empire…

Pel frowned. What was the Empire up to? Why would they send men to Earth? The crew of Ruthless had said they were there to make an alliance against Shadow, but this new batch, from Johnston’s description, wasn’t doing anything like that.