Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Fate

So where had the intruder gone, then?

Oh. Of course. Leen planted her feet and stopped, secure in the knowledge that the guardians were giving her quite a lot of leeway at the moment; she should have no problem getting started again. “You might as well come out,” she yelled over the Watermark’s howl. “I know you’re in there.”

There was no ripple in the field lines, none of the usual indications that someone with an active aura was present or passing through. But something was still out of place, something moving - a darkness beneath the surface of the Watermark, that was it, something physical spinning and tumbling in the midst of the winds, something heaving at the agitated surface -

Something popping free of the Watermark and tottering and toppling to splash squarely into one of the larger puddles on the path. Something? - no, a person, completely garbed in form-fitting black, now considerably the worse for wear through close acquaintance with the Watermark’s core. The person wasn’t dead, though, he was spinning to his feet with surprising control and grace for one who must have been bruised and pummeled to an extreme, spinning first to his feet and then around to face her.

“Hello there,” said Max.

He was trying to brace himself. It was proving to be the hardest thing he’d done all day, harder by far than merely traversing the path. That damned Watermark had been no fun at all - his ears were still howling and his balance was shot, and his body felt like he’d just been rolled down a tall mountain and off a cliff into a cataract trapped in a poorly cushioned barrel; he would know. But when you got right down to it, the episode had been primarily physical, and in any case he hadn’t gone into this expecting a picnic. If his stay in the Watermark had been the nastiest thing he’d had to deal with, in fact, there would have been no question that he’d gotten off easily. Instead, on top of the Watermark he was facing ... well, what he was facing.

It had been worth a try. If she hadn’t realized what was happening, as she obviously had, Leen might have continued straight on through to the end of the path without detecting him. She might have written the affair off as a malfunction. He hadn’t expected that, but it had been worth a try. He hadn’t even been certain that collapsing the Leen-aura and trying to shift his emanations immediately to the profile of something on the order of magnitude of a fly would succeed in dropping him below the guard systems’ threshold of detection. That had worked, anyway. He’d had to use the cloaking effect of the Watermark to help, though, and whether he would have been able to continue to use stealth to make his way out of the Watermark and then out of the maze had been even more hypothetical. It looked as though it would stay that way, too.

“Hello,” Leen said. “Nice to see you again.”

“Is it?” said Max.

“Why not?” she said, folding her arms. “Last time all you seemed able to think about was seeing me again, or at least that’s what you said, so I’d suppose you’ll be happy you’ve gotten your wish.”

“You must be right, of course,” said Max, trying not to scowl. “I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Leen stated. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I doubt that saying ‘take my word for it’ would have much of an impact.”

“Actions speak louder.”

“So they say,” agreed Max. “But actions themselves are subject to interpretation.”

“I suppose they are. Also to tests of plausibility, and while we’re at it we might as well throw in veracity too, wouldn’t you say?”

“A slippery topic, or at least it has a tendency in that direction, but you’re certainly right there again too. Your nephew is perfectly safe and happy, by the way.”

“No other possibility ever crossed my mind,” said Leen.

“You’re going to be late to your luncheon. I’m sorry if I’m helping to delay you.”

“I’m sure there will be other luncheons,” Leen said. “Since you’re keeping such a close eye on my calendar perhaps you can schedule me for one. Unless people get fed up one time too many and stop inviting me, so I suppose there’s a chance some good will come of this yet.”

“It might be easier to hold a discussion if we moved out of this area,” Max suggested. “This wind howling in my ear makes it hard to think, not to mention having to shout.”

Leen regarded him. “On the other hand, it might be just as well to stay right here. I rather think the guard systems are waiting for me to help them with a decision about you. Right at the moment they might take movement on your part the wrong way.”

“It’s your call,” Max said, forcing a shrug. “It’s your turf.”

“Is it?”

“Could you ever doubt it?”

“‘Doubt’ is as good a word as any, I suppose.”

Max cleared his throat. “This has turned into a messy business,” he muttered. “I’ve always hated messes; it’s always a lot harder to clean them up and put things back in order than if you hadn’t messed up in the first place.”

“That’s the truth, at least, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth a try.”

Max sighed and cleared his throat again. “My first problem was trying to mix business with - well, something that wasn’t business. No, that’s not true. The real problem was ...”

Leen gave him a moment. “Was what?” she prodded.

“Letting myself forget the main rule,” Max said disgustedly. “Being weak enough to think I could get involved in anything that wouldn’t come back and bite me.”

“Such as?”

Max looked away. “You probably won’t believe anything I say, but I like you, fool that I am. A lot. It’s weak of me, but I do. It’s also not smart. Every time I, uh, start to like someone, something nasty ends up happening.”

“One of those messes you mentioned, I suppose. But a mess isn’t the end of the world, or at least it isn’t to most people. Is it a reason to stop trying?”

“Isn’t it?” Max growled something under his breath that even he was glad he couldn’t hear. “If only you didn’t turn out to be the Archivist. I needed to get into the Archives and this trick was the best way to do it.”

“A proven way, too. You picked up that amulet around your neck when you were doing your ‘trick’ with my grandfather.”

Max met her eyes for a moment, then glanced back at the Watermark again. “I was more rambunctious when I was younger.”

“From the look of things you’re still proficient. Your technique’s not bad.”

“Only my luck is sour.”

“Not only your luck,” Leen told him. “One could question your judgment. Didn’t it occur to you to ask me for my help? That might have avoided a fair amount of deceit and at least some sneaking around.”

Max opened his mouth, but when no sound emerged he closed it again.

“With the time the Back Door traverse must have taken you,” Leen said thoughtfully, “you couldn’t have been inside the Archives for more than a minute or two, so you couldn’t possibly have accomplished whatever you’d set out to do there.”

“I seem to have accomplished things I didn’t set out to do instead,” Max muttered, “things I’d rather I’d never have started.”

“I don’t know,” said Leen. “That may remain to be seen. Are you after the same goals as the Scapula?”

“I’m sure I’m not. Whatever they are.”

“Don’t you know?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Max said. “Arznaak wants to rise as far and as fast as he can, getting whatever he wants to along the way and stepping on as many other people as possible, starting with his family. Beyond that? More specifically? Your guess is as good as mine. I hope you don’t think I’m like him,” he added.