Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock is Missing

The two fairies dropped dainty curtsies. "We have come to repay thy good aid."

"Who did summon thee?" Kelly snorted.

"Why, the Puck," Summer answered. " 'Tis our wood, do ye not see; we know who moves in it better than any."

"What doth move?" Puck asked softly.

Fall turned to him. "'Tis warlocks thou dost seek, is it not?"

"Warlocks, aye—or sorcerers, more likely."

"We know of them," said Summer. "They have a great house quite deep in the forest, at the foot of the mountains."

Puck looked up at Geoffrey. "'Tis but three hours' ride from Runnymede."

"And I doubt me they would ride," the boy returned.

"'Tis two days' walk, though, for a mortal," Fall cautioned. "Thou art witch-bairns; can ye travel no faster?"

Magnus started to answer, then glanced up at Fess.

"Do not delay for my sake," the robot assured them. "I shall follow your thoughts, and will arrive not long after yourselves. The unicorn, I doubt not, will find Cordelia no matter where she goes. I ask only that you not risk any great hazards till I am with you."

"We will fly with winged heels," Magnus assured the fairies.

"Or broomsticks," Summer said, with a smirk.

It was a big half-timbered house with white stucco that had mellowed to ivory with age—or what looked like age; for "Who would ha' builded a house so deep in the woods?" Magnus asked.

A hut would have been understandable, maybe even a cottage—but this was a two-story Tudor house with wings enclosing a courtyard.

"Nay, none would have built here," Geoffrey whispered, with full certainty. " 'Tis Papa's enemies have made this place, and that not much longer ago than Magnus was born."

"If 'tis so big, it must be ripe for haunting," Cordelia whispered.

Her brothers looked at her in surprise. Then they began to grin.

The guard's eyes flicked from screen to screen, from one infrared panorama of the clearing outside the headquarters house to another, over to a graph-screen that showed objects as dots of light on crossed lines, then to a screen that showed sounds as waveforms, then back to the picture screens again. He was bored, but knew the routine was necessary—HQ was safe . only because it was guarded.

A long, quavering sound began, so low that the guard doubted he'd heard it at first, rising gradually in pitch and loudness to a bass, moaning vibration that shook the whole building. The guard darted a look about him, then whirled to the score of screens that showed views of the inside of the house. Finally, he stabbed at a button and called, "Captain! I'm hearing something!"

"So am I," a voice answered out of thin air. A moment later, the captain came running up, shouting to make himself heard over the noise. "What is it?"

But as soon as he started talking, the sound stopped.

The two men looked about them, waiting. Finally, the captain said, "What in hell was that?"

"Right," the guard answered. Then he saw the captain's face and said, "Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."

"I don't need light moods, I need answers! What did your screens show?"

"Nothing," the guard said with finality. "Absolutely nothing."

The captain scowled at the screens. "How about the oscilloscope?"

"Nothing there either."

The captian whirled back to him. "But there had to be! That was a noise—it had to show as a waveform!"

The guard shook his head. "Sorry, Captain. Just the usual night-noise traces."

"Not the outdoor scope, you idiot! The indoor one!"

"Nothing there, either." The guard glared at him. "And if we could both hear it, one of the mikes should have picked it up."

They were both silent for a moment, the guard watching the captain, the captain gazing about him, frowning. "What," he said, "makes a noise that people can hear, but microphones can't?"

"They are worried," Gregory reported, "and afeard, though they hide it."

"No mortal can fail to fear the unknown," Puck said, grinning. "'Tis bred into thee from thine earliest ancestors, who did first light campfires 'gainst the night."

They crouched in a dry stream-bed near the house; the stream had been diverted indoors to fill out the water supply. Bracken had grown up in it, enough to cushion the children as they lay against the side on their stomachs.

"Is that why we waited for night?" Geoffrey asked.

"It is," Puck answered. "Thy kind fears the dark, though some of ye hide it well."

"What shall we give them next?" Cordelia asked.

Puck turned to her with a smirk. "What wouldst thou fear?"

The captain sat in the watch officer's office, gazing out the window. What could that noise have been? Of course, old houses are always settling—but this house wasn't really old, it just looked that way!

Well, on the other hand, new houses settle, too—he knew what kind of shoddy workmanship they tried to pass off these days. But settling wouldn't make a noise that lasted so long !

Outside, something flitted by; he barely saw it out of the corner of his eye. He frowned, peering more closely. There it was again, just a flicker—but enough to need checking! He pivoted in his chair and pressed a touchpoint on his desk. "Check the visual scan, northeast quadrant, quickly!"

"Checking," the guard's voice responded.

The captain waited, glaring out the window. There it was once more—still a flicker, but lasting a little longer this time. He could almost make out a form…

"Nothing," the guard stated.

The captain cursed and whirled back to the window.

The shape danced between two tree trunks a hundred-feet

from the house, at the edge of the security perimeter. It was pale, glowing, and vaguely human in form. In spite of himself the captain felt the hairs trying to stand up on the back of his neck. He was a materialist—he knew nothing could exist if it couldn't be weighed or measured. If he saw it but the cameras didn't, it couldn't really be there; it had to be an hallucination. And that meant…

Unless somebody else could see it, too. He stabbed at another touchpoint and barked, "Sergeant! Come in here!"

Two minutes later, a third man stumbled in through a side door, hair tousled, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "What… what's moving, Captain?"

"Ghosts," the captain gritted. He pointed out the window. "Tell me what you see."

The sergeant stepped over to the pane, puzzled. Then he stared. "They're not real!"

"Well!" the captain heaved a sigh. "At least you see them, too!"

"What?" the sergeant turned to him. "Did you think you were dreaming, sir?"

"No, just hallucinating. Now, you've seen them—go look on the monitors, will you?"

Frowning, the sergeant turned and went out into the hall. A few minutes later, his voice sounded right next to the captain's ear. "Right you are, sir. There's nothing on the monitors."

"That's what I thought." The captain stared out at the darkness, numb. There were three of them now, flitting from one tree trunk to another. Or else it was just one, moving very quickly… "Check all the sensors."

A few minutes later the sergeant reported, "Nothing on infrared, sir," and the guard's voice said, "No radiation… no new concentrations of mass… no RF reflection…"

"They're not real." The captain glared out at the glowing, dancing forms in indignation—but under that emotion was a growing dread. The things were there, no doubt about it—it wasn't only him; the sergeant had seen them, too. But how could they be there and not leave any trace on the sensors?

Gregory looked up at Magnus and Geoffrey. "Canst thou sus-tain this illusion, brothers?"

The two bigger boys knelt side by side, sweat starting on their foreheads, deep in concentration. "Long enough," Magnus answered.

"'Tis hard, casting this picture into their minds," Geoffrey muttered. "The groaning was easier."