ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX: Waves II

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The ambassador’s greenhouse was hot and damp. As soon as Alden had seen it, patchily illuminated tonight by lights dedicated to specific plants, he’d decided that rather than being a place for food production or research like the greenhouses at Joe’s lab, this was an environment meant for the residents of the house and their guests to enjoy.

Flowers were everywhere, speckling tangled clumps of vines or shaded beneath foliage that looked otherworldly. A smell like nutmeg and lemons filled the air even though neither of those things was in evidence. Adirondack chairs were positioned in appealing leafy alcoves, and there was a pleasant burbling sound that never stopped, as if to imply a stream was nearby, just out of sight through the leaves.

But Alden couldn’t hear the burbling now.

His ears were full of the man with the weapon—what is it? what’sthat? a tent stake? a garden picket? some ordinary thing. not a Meister tool. it doesn’t look special enough. two foot long. thin. sharp. bloody—shouting at a second man who shoving on the back of the flyer with both hands.

Two men.

They were standing at the far end, beneath the place where one of the roof panels had been removed for the flyer’s exit. The back door of the greenhouse was open as well as the front, and wind swept through, stirring the plants.

Two men. No there are three of them. The third is in the shadows. Lying down. Hurt? Dead?

Not moving.

“Fuck! The fuck!? —————— wizard ———! —————— stunner —————. Fuck!”

The weapon wielder wasn’t speaking much English, and Alden wasn’t trying to figure out what the other language was. He was barely registering the words he did understand. Too much of his attention was glued to the sharp, bloody thing the man was waving through the air.

“Shut up,” hissed the other one. “Stop panicking. It’s all good as long as we…as long as…fuck if I know! It wasn’t supposed to go this way. With Grigs down, we can’t use his swallow box. How do we move this out of…just check on him while I try to get this to roll or something! Fucking aliens making a round object that won’t roll!”

Behind the babbling one who was shoving on the flyer, Zeridee-und’h was flat on her face. He was almost standing on her long, dark purple braid. Her body was crushing one of the big leaves with the zebra striping.

The spot where she lay was dim. Alden couldn’t see her well enough to know what he needed to know.

That terrifying, rippling authority cry had cut off so abruptly, right as he’d finished crossing the lawn. Did that mean she was gone?

Maybe she’s not hurt too bad. Maybe she’s not.

He crouched near the front door of the greenhouse, hiding in a dark corner behind a plant covered in large round berries.

He didn’t remember thinking any of the things he must have thought to end up in this position: I need to be quiet. This is dangerous. I can’t let them see me. Get down.

His body had run here, driven by adrenaline. It had made him duck behind this plant. And now…

What do I do? WhatdoIdo? Think. Thinkthinkthink.

His auriad was tangled in the fingers of his left hand. His right was digging in his bag.

What am I looking for in here?

His fingers closed on origami paper. A protein bar. A temper sphere.

“—————— wizard!?”

“Why do you care if the Artonan guy was a wizard or not? He’s a body now! Shit. A dead Artonan. Damn, you stabbed him good. You’re pretty fast. That’s the Brute in you. Good…good work. Ha! I’m shaking so much. Can’t think straight. This is…there might be two bodies.” The babbler whipped around for just a second to look at the man on the floor before he went back to pawing at the flyer. “We should’ve just waited until the fucker flew off and searched the house for stuff. We should’ve waited.”

“I say this! I say this twice!” shouted the man with the weapon. “But you say, ‘By my powers, little spaceship! Once in lifetime! ————- argold!’”

He swung the weapon at the silvery side of the egg-shaped flyer, and it hit with a clang. “You and Grigs—”

“Fuck! I know, all right? I know this is a mess. But it’s not my fault! I’m sorry about the stunner. They use ‘em at the hospital to knock out people who are out of their minds. The guy said it’ll even work on lots of high ranks. I didn’t know it wouldn’t do an Artonan! I hit him three times.”

Maybe this? Alden thought, fingers closing on the temper sphere. I took the spell impression for situations like this, didn’t I? Distractions. Back when I wanted different things.

“They’re not supposed to be martial fucking artists, are they?” the babbler said defensively. “This scrawny bastard throat-punched Grigs and took him down like—”

“ ————————!” shouted the other one.

“Keep your damn voice down! What if somebody hears us in here!?”

Alden tossed the temper sphere out the door behind him. Into the grass.

Now what? It’ll make a loud sound. Does that help at all? Will they run away? What if they don’t?

He started lacing the auriad through his fingers.

The babbler suddenly threw his shoulder into the flyer and bounced off, wincing. “It’s not my fault. It’s nobody’s fault. We should’ve gone for the Artonan healer’s place. But the Ambassador’s house was supposed to be empty! You heard those people whining about it on the train. This Matadero accident is supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to us! Get at the mother lode instead of scratching around for whatever shit the wizards leave behind in their offices overnight.”

Alden’s hands were moving.

“See if Grigs is still alive! Try to wake him up. If we could get this thing in the swallow box and get it out of here….don’t you understand? We couldn’t get our hands on something like this even if we got summoned. Do you know what kind of money those lucky bastards who bring home nice stuff from the Triplanets can make? This thing could be worth tens of millions!”

Alden’s auriad was moving.

His authority was moving.

To do what? What am I going to do with it?

He had begun cat’s cradling his way through his most familiar auriad spell with no plan, just a need to not be helpless. Now, a square of striking force was about to be brought into being. Around sixteen inches across on the diagonal. It would hit what he aimed at harder than he could punch or kick.

But there are two of them.

I can’t do it twice before they reach me. Can I cast and run and cast again?

If they look over here…

Should I have picked the triangle?

No. Not that. I might miss.

The flying triangle spell seemed to be more powerful, but the description in Whan-tel’s Art indicated it made a smaller shape. Alden was sure he could cast it, but because he didn’t want to blow a hole through the wall of his bedroom he’d never actually finished it to see exactly what it looked like and what it did. If his aim was bad, if it came out as some adorable little tap instead of the piercing blade he imagined…

They stabbed Zeridee.

The big one stabbed her with that long metal rod.

Because they wanted to steal the flyer.

Not even to save themselves. Not because they were scared.

What kind of crazy shitbrains would rob wizards? Are they suicidal? Do they think the Artonans won’t care about something important going missing? It sounds like they originally planned to take smaller stuff from the house, but…focus. What’s a stunner?

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Second weapon.

Some kind of knockout thing.

The babbler was wearing a piece of gear on his right arm. Like a metal brace with an attached articulated glove that only covered the back of his hand.

Is that it? How strong is it? How strong are they? Should I leave?

It was the first time he’d had a thought about fleeing. He processed it in confused bursts as he finished shaping the spell.

They’re bad people. They hurt her.

More shouting.

They think they killed her.

The world tilted a little toward his entruster.

I need to get her out of here.

What would I expect Boe to do?

I don’t know.

“—————————— ! ———————— Punta!”

“Yes, I see the disaster alert! I know the neighborhood’s not going to be looked after anymore! That’s why we’re here, and if we leave without getting anything, this is all a fucking waste!”

I don’t know. I don’t know.

She’s not dead. They’re not that strong.

Last few finger flicks. The spell was building. The universe was about to part for it.

Decide, Alden.

Shoot it at the babbler who has the stunning weapon. Run outside. Activate the temper sphere. Maybe the screaming will make them think there are more people here. Prep second shot. Maybe they’ll run out to chase me. I’m probably faster than them. Hide in the dark, then sneak back and grab Zeri—

A zebra-striped leaf crunched as Zeridee-und’h stirred. She was barely moving, still face-down where she’d fallen. The panicked authority cry started up again. An arm shifted.

“He’s moving!!” screamed the babbler. “He’s moving! Hit him! Hit him! He’s seen us! He might do a spell!”

The Brute rounded on the fallen Artonan with a panicked expression and raised his bloody stake over her body. Alden’s attempt at a plan vanished.

Square.

He stepped out from behind the plants, lifted the auriad, and shot.

He aimed for the man’s head.

Everything happened fast. His auriad was back under the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and he was moving. There was no more time for him to think. But maybe because he’d already gotten a little used to watching other Avowed—faster, stronger Avowed—he found he could see. Whipping his head around three times a week to check for tennis balls, classmates, and Torsten Klein had given him the impression that danger happened at a pace he could only rarely respond to.

By the time you realized you needed to duck, Tuyet had already darted you. Or Klein had already disappeared. Or you were flat on your back, and Astrid was spring-boarding off of your face.

But now, Alden managed to reach the two men before they even realized he was in the greenhouse with them. It was two big leaps with Azure Rabbit, and he accidentally knocked over a bucket, and then he was there.

They were still scrambling from the first attack.

The babbler, obviously under the impression that Zeridee had done something, was shouting, “Wizard! The Artonan is a wizard! Hit him quick! Hit him quick!”