Poison Sleep (16 page)

Marla shut the door behind them and looked up at the gray sky. Flurries of snow were coming down, not too heavy yet, but there was a storm expected in a day or two.

“What are we doing up here?” Ted said.

“Time to show you something cool,” Marla said, and snapped her fingers.

The roof fell away. They rose into the air surrounded by a bubble of warmth—or
seemed
to. This was actually an immersive illusion rather than actual flight, but there was no reason to explain the distinction to Ted just yet. Ted screamed and reached out for her, and she put her arm around his waist and made a soothing noise. “It’s okay, Ted. I’m fully flight-rated. This is the superhero bit, you see?” She glanced at him, and his eyes were squeezed tight. “Come on, Ted, look around. It’s not a view you’ll get to see every day.”

He opened one eye—that was a suitable compromise, she thought—and looked down. They stopped rising a moment later, hovering high enough that they could see the entirety of Felport below them, from the towering spire of the Whitcroft-Ivory building to the giant cranes by the port, the green-and-white swath of Fludd Park and the tiny houses where the students lived near Adler College, the bigger-than-it-seemed junkyard where the sorcerer Ernesto lived, the vast iron bridges spanning the Balsamo River. Felport was a dirty, asymmetrical jewel of a place, a city with a gridlike planned core surrounded by a messy improvisational sprawl, and she adored every back road and sewer grate and abandoned building of the place. “I’m a sorcerer, Ted. And my job is protecting Felport from the sort of problems you can’t even imagine. If I do my job right, you and all the other ordinaries who live here never
need
to imagine them. I figured if I just told you that, you wouldn’t believe me, but if I
showed
you…”

He loosened his grip on her, though she didn’t take her arm away. He stared down at the gray morning city, where only a few cars were slowly navigating the icy streets. It was an illusion, but it was an accurate-to-the-millisecond illusion, so even if they weren’t
actually
flying, the distinction was meaningless. Except this way they couldn’t fall and kill themselves. They were really just still standing on the roof. “What
kind
of problems do you protect us from?”

“Well, there was an evil sorcerer with an army of birds once. Another nutcase wanted to raise a monstrous old god from the waters of the bay. An incursion of creatures we might as well call demons came up through the sewers last spring. A serial murderer—the Belly Killer, remember that, it was in all the papers?—who the police couldn’t catch, because he had magical powers. That sort of thing.”

“I’m a man of science, Marla. I know that sounds like something from a movie, but this…I don’t know how I can accept this. Sorcery?” He shook his head, but still stared down, captivated. “I can see my old house from here,” he said after a moment.

“If it helps, don’t think of it as magic. Think of it as bleeding-edge science. There was a time when electric lights would’ve been evidence of supernatural power. Nowadays you can talk to people on the other side of the globe, instantly—make a claim like that a few hundred years ago and you would’ve been killed as a witch. Scientists are capable of splitting apart atoms and releasing incredible destructive energies. Sounds a whole lot like magic to me. Don’t even get me started on biotech, or the weirdness of modern physics. Yeah, what I do looks impressive—hell, some of it
is
impressive, and hard as hell to pull off—but if it helps you, just tell yourself I have access to a world of science beyond your understanding.”

“But…it’s not science. It’s not replicable. It’s not something anyone can do.”

She waved her free hand. It was an argument she’d heard before. “So? It just takes a combination of skill and a whole lot of practice. I mean, you can’t give a random guy on the street a scalpel and expect him to perform brain surgery successfully, but we don’t say brain surgeons are magical, even though there are some people who could
never
do that job successfully, no matter how much they practiced. Some people are born with perfect pitch, and that’s not something you can
learn,
but we don’t say it’s ‘magical.’ The stuff I do, that people like me do…it’s a way of changing the world. A way of messing with the root commands of the universe. We call it sorcery because that’s a useful catchall term. There’s a lot of it we don’t understand ourselves. Some of us consort with gods and demons, but if you’d rather call them extra-dimensional aliens, you’re welcome to. It’s not any more or less accurate. And so what if some of the acts we perform seem dependent on the will of the magician or some inborn capability?”

Ted actually took a step away from her. He was remarkably adaptable—he didn’t even seem freaked out by the lack of a floor under his feet. “Is it really that simple? This sorcery is just aspects of the natural world that most people don’t experience?”

“If it happens, it’s part of the natural world, Ted. There’s nothing in the universe that
isn’t
natural. We say ‘supernatural,’ sure, but that’s not exactly what we
mean.
Think of it like light. There’s a visible spectrum that people can see. But there’s light at both ends of the spectrum that we can’t see naturally. That doesn’t mean the infrared and ultraviolet parts of the spectrum are
unnatural.
Humans are pretty stupid, Ted. We have a nasty tendency to assume our own limitations are somehow the limits of the universe. That’s one of the first prejudices sorcerers have to overcome.”

“Could I be a sorcerer?” Ted said.

Marla shrugged. “There are a couple things I could give you that pretty much anybody could use. The same way you can use a TV without understanding how it
works.
As for giving you real power, who knows? We just met a few days ago. Some people are never going to be world-class athletes, no matter how hard they train, and some people who have the potential to be world-class just don’t have the
will.
I don’t know if you do. Maybe.” She snapped her fingers again, and they were, abruptly, back on the roof, back in the cold. Ted stumbled, even though they hadn’t actually
moved,
and she caught his arm to keep him from falling into the snow. “C’mon, Ted. You still need to make sure there’s some food for our guests, right?”

Ted stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “Yes. I…yes. It’s going to take me a while to get used to all this.”

“As long as getting used to it doesn’t stop you from getting your work done, take your time.” Marla thought he was handling it pretty well so far. The magic-as-science angle comforted some people. Marla figured it was about half bullshit, herself—there were some things about magic that just seemed too flat-out
weird
for that kind of rationalization—but there was no reason to hit Ted with that kind of confusing distinction. She’d ease him into things.

As they went back downstairs, he said, “So, what…voodoo? Does that work? Kabalistic magic? Fortunetelling? Telekinesis? Clairvoyance? Necromancy?”

“All of it,” Marla said. “Everything works…if you do it right. But it’s really, really hard to do
any
of it right. Most people specialize. My associate Hamil is a master of sympathetic magic. There’s a guy named Gregor who’s good at seeing the future—and before you get started on free will and shit like that, it’s more a way of collapsing probability waves and seeing what’s most
likely,
or what the only possible outcome of a given course of action is, you know? It’s about seeing
possible
futures, but if you narrow the parameters enough, some of those possibilities become the next best thing to certainties. He’s richer than god. He’s got a gift for real estate speculation and the futures market.”

“What’s your specialty?” he said.

“I specialize in beating the crap out of people, actually. I do a little of this, a little of that. I’ve never been interested in choosing a niche. I get bored too easily. A lot of people think I’m an ineffectual dilettante. Some of them even go on thinking that until I show them how effective I can be. I believe in adaptability, Ted. Sure, if I go head to head with some sorcerer in their chosen specialty, they can beat me, but I have a lot more tricks up my sleeves than
any
of them do. If I ever need really high-level specialization, I just
hire
somebody to do it for me. Easy.”

“I see. And what’s Rondeau’s specialty?”

Marla hesitated. It was, perhaps, a bit early in Ted’s magical education to explain that Rondeau was actually a free-floating parasitic psychic entity of unknown origin, which had wrested control of his current body from the previous occupant when said occupant was only eight years old. “Rondeau doesn’t have a specialty. He’s not a sorcerer. He knows a few tricks, but he doesn’t have the skill or the will to do much more. Still, he’s one of the most valuable guys in my organization, loyal and flexible and trustworthy. You should see the shit he can do with a butterfly knife, too. Anyway, come on, I’ll show you the special conference room.”

She led him downstairs. “What do you know about the history of Felport, Ted?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

“You know how it got its name?”

“Wasn’t there an early settlement that was lost, and rumors that it was a haunted place?”

“Yep,” Marla said. “It was ‘the fell port,’ meaning ‘fell’ as in ‘dire, sinister, evil,’ you know? A little settlement was lost, you’re right, just a trading post, but whatever nasty thing killed all those people disappeared or went underground or something when more people settled here.” They made it all the way downstairs, to the dance floor, and Marla took Ted down a short corridor, past the bathrooms, to what looked like a locked utility closet. She began sorting through her keys. It was a magically variable lock, and the correct key changed every day. “But Felport kept its reputation as a place where weird forces converged, and there were stories of witches’ sabbats, weird rituals, places in the woods where no grass would grow. Things like that.” She found the right key and opened the door, revealing a space that looked like a broom closet until she pressed the doorjamb in the right places to make the illusion of disinfectant and mops disappear. Ted gasped, and Marla grinned. “This club was built on top of one of those places where no grass would grow, a dead zone. Specifically, the room right in front of us is over that spot.” The room itself was nondescript, just a conference table, a few chairs, and a bright lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “It’s funny, because people think places like that are dangerous, but this is actually the place where you’re safest from magic. You can’t cast spells here—it’s like trying to light a wet match, it just doesn’t work. It’s also impossible to magically eavesdrop in here, or use clairvoyance to see inside, or find someone hidden here using magical divination. It’s pretty sweet. We do dangerous business here, have sit-downs, things like that. Though it doesn’t seem to hurt inherently magical things. Telepaths can still read minds, as long as they’re all standing inside the room. But a telepath standing right outside the room can’t read the minds of those
inside,
and a telepath on the inside can’t read the mind of anyone outside. It’s like the place is insulated somehow.” Joshua’s powers would work in there, too, or so Hamil assured her—lovetalkers had been used for negotiations there in previous regimes. “We don’t understand how the place works, or why it has the limitations it does, but we’re happy to take advantage of it. There are a few places like this scattered around the country, and we’re lucky to have one under our control. We’ll have the meeting here, okay?” Marla closed the door, gave Ted the keyring, and explained how the lock worked. They returned upstairs.

Back at her office, she checked the time and said, “I’m going for a little walk. I’ll be back in time for the meeting. Hold down the fort.” Ted nodded, still clearly preoccupied by what she’d shown him. She wondered if he’d still be there when she got back. She thought he probably would. He said he didn’t have an addictive personality, but she suspected Ted
was
addicted to learning new things, and he must realize there was a whole world of wonders opening up before him now. Marla remembered how that sense of wide-open possibility felt, herself. It felt pretty fucking great.

Marla found Joshua at the Wolf Bay Café, sipping something from a small black ceramic cup and tapping away at a tiny silver laptop. He closed it when he saw her approach, beaming up at her, and Marla sensed everyone else in the café, male and female, looking at her with jealousy for a moment. Then they all went back to staring at Joshua, more-or-less obtrusively.
He must be hell on workplace productivity anyplace he goes.
Looking at him certainly didn’t incline
her
to do any work. “Good morning,” he said.

“It is now,” she agreed, sitting next to him.

“A café au lait for my friend?” he called, and a barista with a pierced nose hurried to fill the order, ignoring the people waiting in line. This café didn’t actually have table service, but that wouldn’t stop them from bringing anything Joshua asked for, of course.

“Do you even pay for your drinks?” Marla asked, amused.

“Sometimes I try. It’s seldom accepted. I can’t help it. I’m likeable.”

“Good. I’ll need your likeability soon. I’m having a meeting at 12:30, and I’d like you to be there.”

“I hope it won’t run on too long. I have plans this afternoon.”

She felt a stab of entirely inappropriate jealousy, which immediately dissolved under the pleasure of his gaze. “Oh? For what?”

“I’m visiting a friend. What’s the meeting about?”

“Crazy sorcerers and failed assassins, mostly.”

“No delicate negotiations? Then why do I need to be there?”

Marla paused. Why
did
he need to be there? “Well, you were there when the assassin attacked, so you might have something to contribute. And I’d like to introduce you to some of my other associates….” Shetrailed off. Neither of those were very good reasons. She just
wanted
him there. But she couldn’t say that without giving up the power in their relationship. So she just grinned and said, “And because I’m your boss. Maybe I just want to make sure you remember that, in case last night gave you some other ideas.”