“We got it. Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime,” Bob said grimly.
“The Guild is always willing to cooperate with the Order,” Mark said.
I waved at them and headed out into the parking lot. A woman. Dark eyes. I wished I could’ve seen her face.
A quick staccato of steps echoed behind me and Saiman caught up. “I’d be delighted if you rode with me,” he said. “The engine of my Volvo is wrapped in a layer of mass-loaded vinyl, caught between two layers of polyether foam. It’s adequate at attenuation of low-frequency noise.”
“Fascinating.” Most water cars made enough noise to do permanent damage to one’s hearing.
Saiman favored me with a narrow smile. “My vehicle is relatively quiet by enchanted engine standards. If you rode in my vehicle, you could rest.”
And he could ask me all sorts of interesting questions. I was tired, but not tired enough to risk a car ride with Saiman.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I can’t abandon my mule. Besides, I come with a passenger.”
His eyebrows came together. “A passenger?”
I whistled and the dog popped out of his hiding spot behind Marigold.
Saiman stared at my canine companion with an expression of pure horror. “What is that?”
“That’s my attack poodle.”
Saiman opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. A grimace gripped his face. A violent struggle of some sort was obviously taking place inside.
“Are you trying to find something nice to say?”
He looked at me helplessly. “I can’t. It’s an awful creature.”
“If you want me to ride with you, this awful creature has to enter your car.”
The pain on his face was priceless. “Can’t we just—”
“I’m afraid we can’t.”
The attack poodle trotted around me and proceeded to vomit an inch from my left boot.
“Delightful,” Saiman reflected as the dog, having puked his guts out, urinated on the nearest wall.
“He’s a dog of simple pleasures,” I told him.
Saiman leaned back, stared at the sky, exhaled, and said, “Very well. Your taste in dogs is as appalling as your taste in wine. It’s a wonder you didn’t name it Boone.”
It had been a long time since I had tasted Boone’s Farm. Drinking was no longer my preferred entertainment. “It’s a he. Please don’t insult my faithful canine companion.”
Saiman turned and strode to his sleek, bullet-shaped vehicle, disfigured by the bloated front end containing the enchanted water engine.
I petted the poodle. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you bite him if he gets out of line.”
The dog wagged his tail. Either Saiman smelled tasty, or my poodle had good instincts.
I mounted, swaying a bit, and nudged Marigold into action. Even if I did fall along the way, I’d likely land in a snowdrift. Any landing you could walk away from was a good landing.