A Wizard of the White Council (5 page)

“You’ve been here before,” said Arran, staring at the strange architecture. 

“Yup.” Robert handed him a small piece of stiff paper. “Here’s your ticket.” 

“Ticket?” said Arran. “Ticket to what?”

“The observation gallery. It’s a good view. You can see the city for miles. We go this way.” They walked down a corridor illuminated by lamps set in the ceiling. “Here we go.” A row of black metal doors stood in the wall. Robert pressed a button and waited. One of the doors slid open, revealing a small gray room. 

“What’s this?” said Arran. 

Robert walked inside. “An elevator. Aren’t you coming?” 

“Very well.” Arran stepped inside. “But I thought we were going to the top of the tower…”

The small room lurched, and Arran grabbed at the wall for support. “What’s happening?”

Robert laughed. “Did you think we were going to take all those stairs up? It’s a long walk.”

Arran’s ears popped. “So what is this thing?”

“An elevator." Arran gave him a look of incomprehension, and Robert sighed. "It’s a big box that’s pulled up and down a tube by a metal cable. Beats taking the stairs for a hundred floors.” He gave Arran a strange look. “You’ve never seen an elevator before, have you? You must have come from a really foreign country.”

Arran grunted. “You haven’t the slightest idea.”

The black metal door slid aside, revealing a carpeted room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Robert stepped out. 

“Here we are,” said Robert. He pointed at an odd-looking machine mounted on a metal post. “You can put a quarter in that telescope. But that’s stupid, paying a quarter. I usually bring my binoculars, but I didn’t know I was coming here today…”

Arran didn’t hear a word.

The city of Chicago stretched away in all directions. Arran staggered to the railing and stared out through the windows. He saw countless houses, more skyscrapers, endless roads, and thousands and thousands of jeeps. He saw the spires and domes of churches, the curve of a vast arena, and thousands of other buildings. 

“My gods,” said Arran.

“Oh, yeah,” said Robert, grinning with delight. “I remember. Mrs. Lawson made us memorize stuff about Chicago in social studies class. I think…there are three million people in the city.”

Arran stared at him. “Three million?” Carlisan had been the greatest of the cities of the High Kingdoms, vast and rich and powerful, and it had held only a quarter of a million people. “Three million people? You must be jesting.”

“Um…I don’t know what jesting is, so I don’t think so,” said Robert. “But I learned that in school. And if you add all the people in the suburbs, then it’s eight million. Or that might be the metropolitan area. I’m not sure.”

Arran shook his head. “Eight million? My gods. Chicago must be the paramount city of your world.” 

“Paramount?”

“The biggest, the greatest,” said Arran, his eyes fixed on the spectacle of Chicago.

“Oh, no. I think there are two bigger cities in this country. Um…Los Angeles is bigger, I know that, and so is New York.”

“Gods,” said Arran. He saw a broad expanse of blue stretched beyond the edge of the city. “Is that the ocean?”

Robert laughed. “No. That’s Lake Michigan. I saw the ocean once. Well, technically the Gulf of Mexico, but that’s part of the ocean, so I guess it counts.” 

Arran shook his head, staring at the city. A sense of amazed hopelessness fell over him. Eight million people? How could he possibly find Alastarius among such a multitude? And Robert had said that the United States held larger cities. The lords of the United States must hold sway over uncounted millions of people. He considered asking Robert the United States’ population, then decided against it. 

He really did not want to know.

“Um…you okay?” said Robert. 

Arran nodded. “I am. It’s just…overwhelming. I have never seen a city this large, never dreamed of it.” What was he going to do now? “Let us go. If I stare at the city much longer I shall lose my mind.”

“Let’s go get some supper,” said Robert. “I’m hungry.”

“Very well.” They walked back into the elevator. Robert pressed a button, and it descended with a lurch. “Is it customary for a child your age to wander about alone?”

“Probably not,” said Robert. “But my parents are both at work all day and won’t be home until late. So they don’t know. I don’t think they even care, so long as I don’t get myself into trouble.”

“Are your parents noble?” said Arran. “You seem well-educated enough to be a son of the nobility.”

Robert blinked. “I don’t know what a noble is, but my mom's a copyeditor and my dad's an ad executive. So I don’t see them much.”

“Ah,” said Arran, wondering what a copyeditor was. “So you’re like the son of a preoccupied high lord…free to wander the streets of the city while your father is engaged with high matters.” He blinked, a long-forgotten memory rising to the surface. “I used to be like that. Even when I became a squire. When my duties for the day were completed I would get myself into trouble.”

“A squire?” said Robert. “So you’re like a knight or something?”

Arran grunted and tapped the hilt of his Sacred Blade. 

“Cool.” He hesitated. “Can…can I see it?”

The door slid open, revealing the lobby of the Sears Tower. “When we’re outside.” He looked at the people walking through the lobby. Many of the men were fat and looked unused to toil or hunger. The women had a sleek, haughty look in their gray skirts and coats, but Arran suspected they would run screaming at the sight of a bared weapon. “I doubt this crowd would react well if I drew a blade in their midst.”

Robert laughed. “You can say that again.” 

They walked outside. “More people than before.”

Robert shrugged. “It’s five o’clock. Everyone’s probably going home from work.”

Arran saw a bench by the curb. “Let’s sit there. I can have something to eat and you can see a Sacred Blade.”

They sat. Arran rubbed his leg, some of the ache fading. 

Robert looked curious. “So you going to show me it or not?”

“Of course.” He drew the Sacred Blade, the steel flashing crimson in the sunlight. A few passers-by gave him strange looks. 

“Wow,” said Robert. “I’ve never seen a real sword before.”

Arran flipped the hilt to face him. “Here. You can hold it, if you wish. Take care, though…it will likely be very heavy.” 

Robert snorted. “It doesn’t look that heavy.” He grasped the hilt. His eyes widened and the tip of the blade bobbed towards the ground. “It…is heavy. What’s this made of? Lead?”

“No.” Arran rummaged through his pack and pulled out a piece of jerky. “It’s part of the way the blade was fashioned. It will only feel light and balanced in the hands of a Knight. And a Knight can only wield one Sacred Blade at time.” He thought of Sir Liam. “Well, usually.” 

“Why do you have two?” said Robert, the sword wavering in his hands.

“Two?” Arran touched Luthar’s sword, still slung over his shoulder after all these miles. He had forgotten about it. “This was my brother’s. He was…killed in a battle a long time ago, right in front of me. I couldn’t leave his sword for our enemies, so I took it with me. I’ve had it with me ever since. 

Robert’s eyes got wide. “So you’ve killed people with this?”

Arran took a bite of jerky. “More than I can remember.” 

“Why is the blade all red?” said Robert. He touched it with a tentative finger. “Is…is that blood?”

“Yes,” said Arran. “The woman I told you of earlier?” Robert nodded. “It’s hers.”

Robert’s face screwed with revulsion. “You killed her?”

“No.” Arran shook his head. “No. When she was killed, I dipped the sword in her blood. I used it to slayer her killer. But the stain of the blood stayed. I suppose it serves as a reminder.” He considered telling Robert of the white magic and decided against it. The people of Earth seemed to have no Wizards or Warlocks. He looked up at the towering skyscrapers. 

They didn’t need Wizards. Their machines could do things no Wizard could ever do. 

Robert handed back the sword. “That’s sad.” Arran slid the sword back into its scabbard. “Dude. What is that stuff you are eating?” 

“This?” He swallowed. “Jerky. I think it’s beef. Or possibly pork. After a few months, it’s hard to tell.” 

Robert lips twisted up. “That is disgusting.”

Arran took another bite. “Not really, if the choice is between old jerky and starvation.”

Robert hopped to his feet. “That looks like it was made from a cow’s butt.”

Arran eyed the jerky. “It most likely was.” 

“Hang on for a minute,” said Robert. He pointed at a shop across the street, its windows marked with the sigil of a golden arch. “I’ll get us some food better than that stuff.” He jogged into the street.

Arran sat up straighter. “Watch where you’re going!” Robert dodged the jeeps with deft speed and crossed the street. Arran grumbled and gnawed at the jerky, trying to tear at the stiff meat with his teeth. 

Robert reappeared a few minutes later, a brown paper bag marked with the arch sigil in hand. In his other hand he carried a tray containing a pair of paper cups, each adorned with the same arch sigil. “Here we go. Fast food is kind of gross, but it’s definitely better than that stuff you’re eating.” He handed Arran the bag. 

Arran frowned. “Fast?” Robert reached inside the bag and handed him a cardboard cup holding some kind of fried potatoes and a warm paper-wrapped lump. “The food is...prepared quickly, I take it?”

“Yup.” Robert unwrapped his own paper-wrapped lump. Inside was a sandwich. 

“Fast food?” said Arran. He unwrapped his own sandwich. “Well, I suppose you did return rather quickly.” He gave the sandwich a dubious glance, shrugged, and took a bite. Warm, greasy meat filled his mouth. “Not bad.”

“Better than the jerky stuff?”

Arran nodded. “Far better than the jerky stuff.” 

“Here.” Robert handed him one of the paper cups. A straw stuck through the top. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink, so I got you a Coke.” 

“I’d prefer about a gallon of wine,” said Arran, “but this will do.” He frowned. “Coke? You…mean coal? You drink coal?”

“Huh?” said Robert. “That’s not coal! That’s soda.” 

“Oh,” said Arran. “How I am I supposed to drink this?”

Robert gestured. “Well, suck through the straw. Or you could take off the lid.” 

Arran grunted, lifted the straw to his lips, and took a long drink. Cold, sweet liquid sloshed through his mouth. He coughed and almost dropped the cup. “Gods.”

“What?” said Robert, grinning. “You don’t like Coke?”

“What is this?” said Arran. “Sugar water?”

Robert thought for a minute. “Basically. And some caffeine. That makes you hyper.” 

Arran took another drink. Some of the weariness faded from his limbs. “This is like…the horsemen of Antarese used to have a drink they called kaffa. It gave them energy. It was black and tasted foul.” 

“Oh, you mean coffee,” said Robert. “My mom and dad drink that stuff all the time. It really stinks. And my mom, she’ll get these fancy coffees beans from some place downtown…actually, I think it’s just over that way.” 

Arran sat back and chewed on the beef sandwich, listening to Robert prattle. He felt a pang of regret. Had he married, his own children would have been only a few years younger than the boy. 

Had Marugon not returned from Earth, much would have been different. 

“You okay?” Robert spoke around a mouthful of the fried potatoes. “You looked like you were going to fall in the street for a minute there.”

“I’m fine,” said Arran. He ate some of his own fried potatoes. “Just thinking.”

Robert took a drink from his paper cup. “I guess you have a lot to think about, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

Robert waved his hand at the skyscrapers. “Well, you said you came from a foreign country, and it sounds like a lot of bad stuff happened to you there. And now you’ve come here to look for your friends, and you’ve seen all this stuff that you’ve never seen before. If I were you, I would have quite a lot to think about.” 

Arran laughed. “Quite right. I suppose I do, do I not?” 

They ate in silence. When they had finished, Robert took the papers, wadded them up, and tossed them into a nearby green-painted metal can. “I should really be getting home. My parents are going to start wondering what happened to me, sooner or later.” He made a face. “Probably later.” 

The sun had started to go down. “It has been a long day.”

They got up and walked to the elevated train’s platform.

###

“Well, this is my stop.” Robert hesitated. “Do you know…um…how to get where you want to go?”

Arran nodded. “I shall ride the bus until it reaches the corner where we first met. I can walk the rest of the distance.”

Robert reached up and pulled a yellow wire running along the windows. A bell rang, and the bus pulled up to the curb. “I've got to go. You take care, Mr. Belphon. I hope you find the people you’re looking for. What did you say their names were?”

“Lithon Scepteris and Alastarius.” 

“If I see them, I’ll let them know you’re looking for them,” said Robert.

“Thank you.” 

Robert grinned and patted in his pocket. “No, thank you for the fifty dollars.” He turned, trotted down the aisle, and disappeared out the bus doors.

Arran watched him go. It would have been useful to stay with Robert, but the risks to the boy would have been too great. Marugon and his agents were on this world. Sooner or later Arran would find them, or they would find Arran. 

Anyone around him would suffer when that happened. 

He rode the bus until it came to the corner. He reached up and pulled the yellow cord. The bus stopped, and Arran walked to the doors.

“Hey, mister.” The bus driver, a burly man with dark skin, leaned forward. “You take care, you hear? A lot of crazies out there tonight.”

Arran nodded. “But no crazier than I.” 

The bus driver gave him a look. 

A quarter hour’s walk brought him back to the white house and its sunken woods. 

Lights burned in the house’s windows, and a blue jeep sat in the driveway. It appeared the house was not abandoned after all. He crept to one of the windows and peered inside. He caught a glimpse of an old woman with a thick iron-gray braid sitting in a chair, a stack of books on a low table besides her. He watched the woman for a moment, and then crept away through the darkness, making for the sunken woods. The old woman looked like a scholar - hardly the sort of woman to go hunting through the woods at night.