Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

"Er, yes," said the captain uncomfortably. "I am Captain Pausert, Your Highness. And Goth is with me."

He bowed. Now that he thought about it, it was all rather obvious. The witches could, if they'd wanted to, have reached the Empress via the Egger Route. Pul was indeed effective against Nanites . . . but there was a limited amount of venom in one grik-dog. And the Empress hadn't needed Hantis to tell her about the Nanites.

The Empress inclined her head at him. "And have you worked out how to deal with the Nanites, Captain?"

A number of pieces fell into place in the puzzle in Pausert's head. The mission hadn't been about Hantis and Pul, after all. It had been about Goth and himself.

"Then this was all a teaching device?" he demanded of Hantis.

"Say rather a learning device," she replied. "Threbus detected unusual klatha skills in you when he ran the tests. You affect adult witches enormously with your klatha gathering, but you don't appear to affect nonhumans or children—which is the reason I was sent on this mission as your minder. You are a klatha-force lighthouse, Captain. The best premotors on Karres worked on you—and found that you obscured their results. When fate said that you had to die . . . you changed the rules. They tried various future models. The predictors always came up with the same answer: allow him certain factors and allow him to evolve. Then they worked on what the best factors would be. Do not imagine that any of your companions are here by accident."

"Huh. They could have told us," said a voice close to his ear.

The Empress and her bodyguards jumped only slightly more than the captain. "Goth," he muttered. "I should have guessed. No-shape. And where is the Leewit?"

"The servant with the canapes," said Goth. "We couldn't let you out on your own, Captain."

The Empress' shoulders shook slightly. "Well, Captain, it appears that you inspire loyalty and great faith. So: Have you the answer we need? In less than twenty minutes I will need to take my seat among the Imperial House, who are, we believe, Nanite-invaded to the last person. If I fail to do so, I will undoubtedly be stripped of Amra's Regency. My influence and my daughter will disappear, and the Empire will slowly be devoured by the Nanites. Eventually, all humanity as well."

Knowing that what he needed desperately was to think, Captain Pausert felt as if his brain had turned into cheese. What had he learned? What klatha skills had he evolved? He suspected that he could use the Egger Route without the shaking. He'd learned how to do the Sheewash Drive. What else? Well. There was the cocoon shields. He'd bet they'd be proof against Nanites . . . or anything else.

And there was that, too. Betting itself. He'd always been a lucky gambler. Goth had put her finger on it: he always won if he really wanted to. When it came to the pinch, he'd gambled on the sequence of the cards being the access number for the Agandar's accounts. And he'd been right. He'd known he was right. And yet . . . it had needed Goth, too. To put the final key in to it. The predictors had said that it would take Goth and himself.

"Goth," he said quietly, "come and put your hand on my shoulder. Lend me your strength as we did for the Leewit when she helped the nursebeast. Be the key."

The moment he said it, the same hair-raising prickle that came with massive klatha use surged around him. This was right. He knew it. Knew it with a cast-iron certainty.

He felt Goth's hands—no, both arms—and not on his shoulder but around his neck, hugging him.

"So what is the answer, Goth? What can I do that Karres had to send us on this harebrained mission to learn?"

"It's got to be the vatches, Captain," Goth's voice whispered in his ear. "Or, at least, little Silver-eyes. I've never heard of anyone having a vatch that they play with instead of the other way around. Have you noticed that it always seems to come when you think of it?"

"I don't usually want the pesky critter."

"It likes you, Captain. Same as the Leewit does. And I think you do like Silver-eyes. Sort of, deep inside."

Silver-eyes was very like the Leewit, now that Pausert thought about it. Annoying, mischievous and capricious. Demanding, too. And, true enough, the captain had a soft spot for both of them. The vatchlet and the Leewit did things he'd often wished to do himself. "I suppose so. But I can't see why it would like me , Goth."

"You protect it. You frighten off the big ones."

The captain felt something dawn in him. "And it regards Nanites as dream-candy."

"Call Silver-eyes, Captain," said Goth with a calm, Toll-like certainty.

He did. And the little vatchlet came, like the sound of violets, like the smell of music.

Well, Big Real Thing, what do you want? Make that lady's mask disappear?

No. What I want you to do is to eat dream candy. All of it that's here. Every last piece.

The vatchlet emanated a definitely dubious feeling. I don't know . . . The last time I did that, I got sick.

So much for that idea. The little vatch's worries were unwarranted, since Pausert was now sure that it had been Pul's venom which had made it feel ill, not the Nanites themselves. But how could he convince Silver-eyes of that?

The Leewit, too consumed with curiosity to stay away any longer, came over with her tray. "What are you doing here, stinkin' little thing?" she hissed.

Silver-eyes giggled. Been playing with the others. But they're not as much fun as you are.

The others . . .

"You say," said the captain to Hantis, "that I'm like a klatha lighthouse. Threbus—Goth too—once said that would attract vatches to me."

"Yes, Captain," said the Sprite. "Threbus told me that you glowed."

"So call the vatches, Captain," said Goth.

The big ones are scared of him,said Silver-eyes, proudly and proprietarily, levitating a canape to drop down a stately dancer's neck.

Ignoring the shriek, the captain asked, Would the little ones come if I invited them? You said there were many of them.

Sure. They only stay away from Dream Things because the big ones chase them. But it's like I said: the big ones are scared of you.

Captain Pausert felt that absolute gambler's certainty settling over him. This was the answer he'd been hunting for. He took a deep breath and concentrated on summoning them, across time and space.

* * *

Later, when she was called on to describe the event, the Leewit hit on it perfectly. "Imagine the biggest, messiest kids' party ever. Times ten."

* * *

The captain was amazed at the number of little vatches who came. Still, there was enough dream-candy for all of them to gorge on. Which, they did, except for Silver-eyes. That little vatch—not quite so little, anymore—was too wary to do more than nibble a bit. So Silver-eyes amused itself with canape bombing runs. There were entire buffets full of ammunition.

Only one of the Nanite-possessed came close to them. Pul bit him. It was not a pretty sight. One of the bodyguards dragged the writhing man away.

You could tell who the infected ones were, without Pul's help. They were the ones collapsing all over the place. The rest were screaming and running around in the food-fight and practical joke session to end all food fight and practical joke sessions. Admittedly, the victims weren't enjoying it much, but none of them was going to end up dead, which was what the captain had rather expected after the experiences in Nartheby. They just looked like the victims of canape carpet bombing.

The Leewit stood it as long she could. Then she grabbed a platter of the stickiest canapes and announced to the captain that she was going to join in. "No fair that the stinkin' vatches have all the fun!"