The Wizard's Dilemma, New Millennium Edition

Young Wizards
 

New Millennium Edition

Book 5:

The Wizard’s Dilemma

Diane Duane

Errantry Press

A division of

The Owl Springs Partnership

County Wicklow

Republic of Ireland

The Wizard's Dilemma

New Millennium Edition

Original edition copyright © 2001 by Diane Duane

Revised edition copyright © 2012 by Diane Duane

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address:

Donald Maass Literary Agency

Suite 801, 121 West 27th Street

New York, NY 10001

USA

Harcourt Trade Publishers hardcover, 2001

Harcourt Trade Publishers / Magic Carpet Books mass-market paperback, 2002

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Trade Publishers ebook edition, 2010

Errantry Press international ebook edition, 2011

Errantry Press New Millennium ebook edition, 2013

Publisher’s note:

This 2013 Errantry Press New Millennium ebook edition is derived from the text of the 2011 International Edition ebook. It has been extensively revised and augmented to bring it into line with the new timeline established in the New Millennium Edition of
So You Want to Be a Wizard
and its subsequent volumes.

For Jason Gamble,
the favorite nephew,

and

for Sam’s friend’s daughter…

both members of the next generation

The revelation of some uneasy secrets
would move most anything, even pigs and fishes,
to lift their heads and speak: and at such times
it furthers one to cross the great dark water
and learn the truth its silent shadows hide.
In the wet, reedy evening, birdsong echoes,
old calling young, eventually answered;
while another stands in the dark and calls its fellow,
hearing for answer only the ancient silence
in which tears fall, under a moon near-full.
The lead horse breaks the traces and goes astray
to cry its clarion challenge harsh at heaven.
Understandably. But can it understand in time
the danger that dogs immoderate success?…

—hexagram 61:
“
a wind troubles the waters
”

If Time has a heart,
it is because other hearts stop.

—Book of Night with Moon
9.v.IX

Late September, 2009

“Honey, have you seen your sister?”

“She’s on Jupiter, Mom.”

There was no immediate response to this piece of news. Sitting at a dining-room table covered with notebooks, a few schoolbooks, and one book that had less to do with school than the others, Nita Callahan glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch sight of her mother looking at the ceiling with an expression that said,
What have I done to deserve this?

Nita turned her head back to what looked like her homework, so that her mother wouldn’t see her smile. “Well, yeah, not
on
Jupiter; it’s hard to do that …She’s on Europa.”

Her mother came around and sat down in the chair opposite Nita at the table, looking faintly concerned. “She’s not trying to create life again or something, is she?”

“Huh? Oh, no. It was there already. There was just some kind of problem.”

The look on her mother’s face was difficult to decipher. “What kind?”

“Not too sure,” Nita said. She’d read the mission statement that had appeared in her copy of the wizard’s manual shortly after Dairine left, but the fine print had made little sense—that probably being why she or some other wizard had not been sent to deal with the trouble, and Dairine had. “It’s kind of hard to understand what single-celled organisms consider a problem.” She made an amused face. “But it looks like Dairine’s the answer to it.”

“All right.” Her mom leaned back in the chair and stretched. “When’ll she be back?”

“She didn’t say. But there’s a limit to how much air you can carry with you on one of these jaunts if you’re also going to have energy to spare to actually get anything done,” Nita said. “Probably a couple of hours.”

“Okay … We don’t have to have a sit-down dinner tonight. Everyone can fend for themselves. Your dad won’t mind; he’s up to his elbows in shrubs right now, anyway.” The buzz of the hedge trimmer could still be heard as Nita’s dad worked his way around the house. “No rush about the food shopping; we can take care of that later. Is Kit coming over?”

Nita carefully turned the notebook page she’d been working on. “Uh, no. I have to go out and see him in a little while, though …Someone’s meeting us to finish up a project. Probably it’ll take us an hour or two, so don’t wait for me. I’ll heat something up when I get home.”

“Okay.” Her mother got up and went into the kitchen, where she started opening cupboards and peering into them. Nita looked after her with mild concern when she heard her mom’s tired sigh. For the past month or so, her mom had been alternating between stripping and refinishing all the furniture in the house and leading several different projects for the local PTA—the biggest of them being the effort to get a new playground built near the local primary school. It seemed to Nita that her mother was always either elbow deep in steel wool and stain, or out of the house on errands, so often that she didn’t have a lot of spare time for anything else.

After a moment Nita heaved a sigh.
No point in trying to weasel around it, though,
she thought.
I’ve got problems of my own.

Kit…

But it’s not his fault…

Is it?

Nita was still recovering from an overly eventful summer vacation in Ireland, one her parents had organized to give Nita a little time away from Kit, and from wizardry. Of course this hadn’t worked. A wizard’s work can happen anywhere; just changing continents couldn’t have stopped Nita from being involved in it any more than changing planets could have. As for Kit, he’d found ways to be with Nita regardless—which turned out to have been a good thing. Nita had been extremely relieved to get home, certain that everything would then get back to normal.

Trouble is, someone changed the location of “normal” and didn’t bother sending me a map,
Nita thought. For one thing, she’d just started ninth grade, and to her surprise was finding the work harder than she’d expected. She was used to coasting through her subjects without too much strain, so this was an annoyance. Worse yet, Kit wasn’t having any trouble at all, which Nita also found annoying for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain. And the two of them weren’t seeing as much of each other at school as they previously had. Kit, in a new and different accelerated-study track with other kids doing “better than their grade,” was spending a lot of time coaching some of the other kids in his group in history and civics. That was fine with her, but Nita disliked the way some of her classmates, who knew she was best friends with Kit, would go out of their way to remind her, whenever they got a chance, how well Kit was doing.

Like they’re fooling anybody,
she thought.
They’re nosing around to see if he and I are doing something
else
… and they can’t understand why we’re not.

Nita frowned. Life had been simpler when she’d merely been getting beaten up every week. In its own way, the endless sniping gossip—the whispering behind hands, the covert tweets and texts and IMs about cliques and boys and clothes and dates—was more annoying than any number of bruises. The pressure to be like everyone else— to do the same stuff and think the same things—just
grew.
And if you took a stance, the gossip might be driven underground… but never very far.

Nita sighed. Nowadays she kept running into problems for which wizardry either
wasn’t
an answer, or else was the wrong one. And even when it
was
the right answer, it never seemed to be a simple one anymore.

As in the case of
this
project, for example.
Nita looked down at the three notebook pages full of writing in front of her.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was turning into a disaster.
Nita knew that wizards weren’t assigned to projects they had no hope of completing. But she also knew that the Powers That Be weren’t going to come swooping in to save her if she messed up an intervention. She was expected to handle it. That was what wizards were for … since the Powers couldn’t be everywhere Themselves.

This left Nita staring again at her original problem: how to explain to Kit why the solution he was suggesting to their present wizardly project was
not
going to work.
He’s so wrong about this,
she thought.
I can’t believe he doesn’t see it. I keep explaining it and explaining it, and he keeps not getting it.
She sighed again.
I guess I just have to keep trying. This isn’t the kind of thing you can just give up on.

Her mother plopped down beside Nita again with a pad of Post-it notes and peeled one off, sticking it to the table and starting to jot things down on it. “The sticky stuff on those is getting old,” Nita said, turning to a clean page in her notebook. “It doesn’t stick real well anymore.”

“I noticed,” her mother said absently, repositioning the note. “Milk, rye bread—”

“No seeds.”

“Your dad likes caraway, honey. Humor him.”

“Can’t you just get me one of the little loaves without the seeds, Mom?”

Her mother gave her a sidelong look. “Can’t
you
just… you know…” She attempted to twitch her nose in the manner of a famous TV “witch” of years past, and failed to do anything much except look like a rabbit.

Nita rolled her eyes. “Probably I could,” she said, “but the trouble is, that bread was made
with
the seeds, and it thinks they belong there.”

“Bread
thinks?
What about?”

“Uh, well, it— See, when you combine the yeast with the flour, the yeasts—” Nita suddenly realized that if this went on much longer, she was going to wind up explaining some of the weirder facts of life to her mother, and she wasn’t sure that either she or her mother was ready. “Mom, the wizardry would just be a real pain to write. Probably simpler just to take the seeds out with my fingers.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows, let out a breath, and made a note. “Small loaf of nonseeded rye for daughter whose delicate aesthetic sensibilities are offended by picking a few seeds out of a slice of bread.”

“Mom, picking them out doesn’t help. The
taste
is still there!”

“Scouring pads. Chicken breasts.” Her mom gnawed reflectively on the cap of the pen. “Shampoo, aspirin, soup—”

“
Not
the cream-of-chemical kind, Mom!”

“Half a dozen cans of nonchemical soup for the budding gourmet.” Her mother looked vague for a moment, then glanced over at what Nita was writing. She squinted a little. “Either I really
do
need reading glasses or you’re doing math at a much higher level than I thought.”

Nita sighed. “No, Mom, it’s the Speech. It has some expressions in common with calculus, but they’re—”

“What about your homework?”

“I finished it at school so I wouldn’t keep getting interrupted in the middle of it, like I am here!”

“Oh dear,” her mother said, peeling off another note and starting to write on it. “No seedless rye for
you.
”

Nita immediately felt embarrassed. “Mom,
sorry—”

“We all have stress, honey, but we don’t have to snap at each other.”

The back door creaked open, and Nita’s father came in and went to the sink.

Nita’s mother glanced up. “Harry, I thought you said you were going to oil that thing. It’s driving me nuts.”

“We’re out of oil,” Nita’s father said as he washed his hands.

“Oil,” her mother said, and jotted it down on the sticky note. “What else?”

Her father picked up a dish towel and stood behind her mother’s chair, looking down at the shopping list. “Lint?” he said.

This time her mother squinted at the notepaper. “That’s ‘list.’”

“Could have fooled me.”

Nita’s mom bent closer to the paper. “I see your point. I guess I really should go see the optometrist.”

“Or maybe you should stop using the computer to write everything,” her dad said, going to hang up the towel. “Your handwriting’s going to pot.”

“So’s yours, sweetheart.”

“I know. That’s how I can tell what’s happening to yours.” Her father opened the refrigerator, gazed inside, and said, “Beer.”

“Oh, now
wait
a minute. You said—”

“I lost ten pounds last month. The diet’s working. After a hard day in the shop, can’t I even have a cold beer? Just one?”

Nita put her head down over her notebook and concentrated on not snickering.

“We’ll discuss that later. Oh, by the way, new sneakers for
you,
” her mother said, giving her father a severe look, “before your old ones get up and start running around by themselves, without either of our daughters being involved.”