Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

The vatchlet seemed to think that over for a while. It didn't go away, it just floated in the middle of the control cabin, like a puff of shadow, while its slitty eyes winked and blinked.

What are you doing? it finally asked.

I'm resting. And thinking.

No. I meant, you have something important to do, I can feel it. I think that's why you get in so much trouble. So what is it?

Should he tell the vatch? Well, why not? It wasn't as if it would be able to blab things to anyone else who didn't already know. Only a klatha practitioner would be able to even sense a vatch was there, much less hear it. On the other hand, if he told the vatch what was going on, it just might be more inclined to help because he'd answered its question.

So he explained it all. The Nanite plague. The disappearance of Karres. Needing to get the information to the Empress.

Then he had to explain what "the Empress" was. Traitors in the ISS—and then he had to explain what "the ISS" was. That the pirates who had followed the Agandar were inexplicably convinced that they had the Agandar's treasure and were also trying to find them. And, naturally, he had to explain what "pirates" were, and who "the Agandar" had been and so forth. There was a lot of explaining to do.

The vatch was quiet for a much longer time, then. Pausert had never really gotten the impression that vatches thought much about anything before this, but he sure got that feeling now.

I don't understand most of this, the vatch said finally. I'd like to help anyway, but I'm not very big.

You're bigger now than you were when we met you, Pausert pointed out.

True. That's because you feed me. I think that's a good thing.

I'd like to think so also, Pausert told it. Believe me, I appreciate the help you've been giving us.

The bigger I get, the more I can help you. And when I'm big enough, I will be able to go to the (*) place. I think that's probably a good thing too.

So do I , said Pausert, and he meant it. Not that it wasn't a grand thing, in some ways, having a vatch around that was making its business to be helpful. But, on the whole, Pausert would be relieved to know that the one vatch he couldn't actually control had gone somewhere else and wouldn't come back. I wouldn't be a friend if I asked you to stay any longer than you have to.

What is a "friend?"it asked, and then the captain had another long explanation to make. It was one he was very careful with, emphasizing that one of the things that friends did not do was to indulge in mischief that caused each other harm, and that the thing they tried to do all the time was to make each other happy and help each other.

Like feeding you, he finished. And like you keeping those un-friends from hurting us. And no matter how far friends are from each other, they always remember what they did for each other, and they remember how good it was to be friends.

I like that. Okay. I will be your friend, Big Real Thing, and you will be mine. And that will be true even after I go to the (*) place.

* * *

Goth came in then and the vatch vanished, as vatches were inclined to do. Goth stared at the place where it had been, and then at Pausert.

"All right, Captain," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Just what have you been up to?"

When he finished telling her, Goth continued to stare at him. Now, that was not at all unusual; what was unusual was the kind of stare she was giving him.

"I'm not entirely sure you're a witch anymore, Captain," she said slowly. "You're doing things no witch I ever heard of can do, or has ever tried to do."

He felt himself flush. "Oh, come on!" he scoffed. "I can't use the Sheewash Drive—"

"Yet," Goth interrupted firmly.

"I can't use the Egger Route—"

"Yet. And you are a vatch-tamer, and now you're making friends with the things! You're no kind of a witch I ever heard of."

"All right," he replied. "Just what am I, then?"

He didn't really expect a reply, but he should have known better. This was Goth, after all.

She canted her head to the side. "A wizard, maybe," she said, rubbing the tip of her nose. "Hmm. Maybe that. A wizard of Karres."

* * *

"A vatch that wants to be friends." Hantis shook her head. "I've never heard of such a thing, but it certainly beats the alternative. You do have a way with the oddest creatures, Captain."

"He does," agreed Pul. "I only want to bite him a very little, now and again."

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you," Pausert replied. "Does anyone know where we're going next?"

"A mining world," Pul told him. "I overheard Cravan and Petey talking about it."

"Mining!" Pausert was surprised. "I wouldn't think miners would appreciate anything we do." And with that, he went to find one of the more experienced members of the troupe to get his opinion.

The first one he found was Mannicholo, who was trying out a new juggling act with glowing wands, which set off the reflective colors of his dermis wonderfully. Pausert didn't interrupt him, since it looked as if the chameleon man was finally getting some success with it. When Mannicholo caught all of the wands, he offered up some sincere applause.

"Thanks," the chameleon man said cheerfully. "By the time we hit ground again, it might even be ready to show. What can I do for you?"

"I've found out we're going to a mining world, and I wouldn't have thought that we'd have much of a chance of an audience there."

"Hmm. Depends on the world. One that's being mined by a major concern, no, you're right; most of the mining there is automated, and the big companies tend to keep their workers well fed and entertained, because working those machines is skilled and dangerous work. But there are plenty of worlds where the big deposits have been mined out. Even though there isn't enough left there to interest the big companies, there's plenty to go around for wildcatters." Mannicholo tossed one of his wands idly from hand to hand. "And you'd be surprised at what they like. Things that remind them of when they were kids and carefree—like the circus part of the show. And a lot of them are better educated than you'd guess. It's self-education, often as not, but they can be pretty bright boys and girls. Stupid wildcatters tend to die quickly, you see. The littler mining machines are powerful and tricky to run, and a wildcatter uses explosives nearly as often as he uses a mining machine, and you can't be stupid and know how to handle explosives properly."

"That still doesn't explain why they'd like the thespians."

"Well, they all tend to listen to stuff while they tend the mining machines," Mannicholo explained. "And here's kind of what happens. Everyone that comes out here has his own set of personal recordings. But it's expensive to bring in anything new, so when a miner gets tired of his own stuff, he starts trading around. Pretty soon he runs out of stuff he knows he likes, then he gets desperate, and starts trading for anything. So the longer a miner's been out here, the more different stuff he's tried, and he'll have listened to practically anything—every kind of music, lectures, plays, educational recordings, spoken books, you name it. So a miner can have a taste for things you wouldn't expect. Then there's the last thing—and that is that wildcat miners work alone for the most part, so the one thing they really crave is company, light, color, and sound, and lots of it all. So no matter how bad our acts were, chances are they'd come to see us for a while. But if the acts are really sad, it won't be for long."

"Oh." He hadn't considered that. "And—you said they aren't stupid—"

"That's right. So that's why, if a showboat wants to really make money, the acts have to be good. Funnily enough, I have always found that the one set of acts that consistently makes money on a mining world is the thespians and people like them; people who rely as much on what's heard as what's seen, and people who do things that open up the imagination." Mannicholo winked. "Which is why I am very grateful to you for tipping me off before anyone else. I've got a song-and-comedy act I'd better dust off before we hit ground. Believe me, Pausert, when miners like you, they really like you, and when they really like you, they've got some fine ways of showing it!"