Well, there’s another hurdle crossed, Wiz thought as he stepped out of the town hall into the main square. Or maybe another bullet dodged. He wasn’t sure he liked the second analogy even though a nasty little voice inside told him it was probably more accurate.
“Ah, Wizard Zumwalt!” came a smooth voice behind him. Wiz came out of his fog and saw the distinguished silver-haired councilor in the blue tunic standing at his elbow.
“Just Wiz, please.”
The other smiled and nodded. “Very well, Wiz. And I am Rolf Rannison, head of the cloth merchants’ guild and president of the Guild Association.” He favored Wiz with an especially sunny smile. “I was hoping you could be my guest for lunch at the Guild Hall.”
“Well . . .”
“Please accept,” his would-be host urged. “Finest food in town, I can assure you.”
Wiz knew he was being hustled, but he also knew that was part of a consultant’s job. So he nodded and smiled as best he could. “I’d be honored.”
The Guild Hall was a massive stone-and-timber building across the main square from the Town Hall. The private dining room on the second floor was paneled below and decorated with murals above. The paintings showed muscular folk going about the business of commerce in a style that reminded Wiz of WPA post office art.
The table was just a little bit too small so the two were forced close together. Not close enough to be uncomfortable but enough to encourage intimacy. The linen was starched and perfectly pressed, the liveried waiters were expert and unobtrusive and the food was very good, if rich.
It was all so well handled that it took Wiz a while to figure out what it was about the place. It wasn’t just that it was old: The room and the Guild Hall felt, well, faded, like some once-great old downtown hotel. The murals were dulled with time and lack of cleaning and the paneling below them showed wormholes here and there. Like a lot of other things in this town, the Guild Hall obviously wasn’t what it once was.
By the end of the first course Rolf was on a first-name basis with Wiz. Once or twice in his career in Silicon Valley Wiz had been wooed by some very high-powered headhunters. That was what this meeting with Rolf was like. The man was working on him, trying to bring him around to-what?-and in spite of his cynicism, Wiz found himself responding to the man’s charm. If Dieter was born to sell used cars in San Jose, he thought, Rolf could sell bonds on Wall Street. Wiz smiled, pleasantly, tried to enjoy the meal and waited for the shoe to drop.
“I noticed you’ve already met Dieter,” Rolf said casually as they worked their way through a dessert that was mostly berries, whipped cream and some kind of strong liqueur.
“After a fashion. He came to see me the first day.”
Rolf smiled knowingly. “He is dynamic, isn’t he?”
Wiz put down his spoon. “He is also about as subtle as a hand grenade in a barrel of oatmeal.”
Rolf chuckled. “I think I understand the reference, but what is a ‘hand grenade’?”
Wiz thought about how to explain high explosives to a culture that didn’t even have gunpowder. Then he thought about what Moira said about his explanations. “Let’s just say it’s something that doesn’t belong in an oatmeal barrel.”
Again that engaging toothpaste smile. “You know one of the things I enjoy so much about you, Wiz? Your outlook is refreshing.” He gestured from the wrist. “Like a breath of clean air into a musty closet that has been closed up too long.”
Considering his performance this morning a breath of hot air was more like it, Wiz thought. But he made an appropriately modest reply.
“Refreshing nonetheless, Wiz. We have been a backwater for too long. It has narrowed us, cramped our vision.” He leaned forward over the table. “Wiz, we need to change and I think you are going to help us make the changes we need so badly.”
He used my name twice in two sentences, Wiz thought. Here it comes.
“Wiz, that is one of the reasons I hoped we could meet. I wanted to offer you my support in your program. You’re going to do great things for us, I know. In fact I’d go so far as to say your coming marks a new beginning for this town and its people.”
Great, Wiz thought. I am not only supposed to slay dragons, I’m supposed to work bloody miracles.
“You understand I have a very limited brief. I am a consultant on dragon problems, not a general management consultant.”
“Your formal brief, true. But I think you underrate your importance just now. As a wizard of great power, a defeater of dragons and an outsider with new ideas, the whole Council is compelled to listen to you.” He paused and cocked an eyebrow. “And very frankly I doubt the present regime will allow you to do much about dragons.”
That was so true that Wiz could only nod.
“Where do you fit in all this?”
“Fundamentally I think we want the same things.”
Just then what Wiz really wanted was to go home to the Wizard’s Keep and Moira. But that wasn’t one of his options until he got this mess straightened out and he couldn’t do that unless he stayed alive. He jerked his attention back to what Rolf was saying.
“You bring us change. But the change has to start at the top. We need new blood on the Council and especially we need a new mayor.” He waved a hand in a self-deprecating gesture. “Oh, not necessarily me. But someone with the vision to see the way we must go and the determination to see that we can get there.”
“What’s wrong with Mayor Hastlebone?”
Rolf sighed. “I am afraid he is too much under Dieter’s influence. He can see nothing but old solutions to our problems.”
“Dieter does have some ideas for doing things differently,” Wiz pointed out.
“Dieter’s solutions are more of the same old medicine. More taxes to strangle the life out of what little trade we have left.” He shook his head. “No, money will not solve our problems. Not without a complete restructuring and a reawakening of civic discipline.”
He leaned across the table and touched Wiz’s hand. “Wiz, we must-what was your phrase?-reinvent ourselves. Yes, ‘reinvent.’ A new city, a new culture rising out of the ashes of the old. Why, the possibilities are . . .” Rolf trailed off, seemingly transfixed by something infinitely far off over Wiz’s right shoulder. Then his attention snapped back to Wiz and he was all business again. “ . . . rather remarkable,” he finished smoothly.
A chill ran down Wiz’s spine. “Look, I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, but . . .”
Rolf held up a hand. “When someone says they are flattered it means they are preparing to turn you down. Don’t, I beg of you. You don’t have to say yes, but leave the matter undecided, please.”
“I will certainly try to keep an open mind.”
Let’s see, Wiz thought as he made his way back across the square. I’ve been in town less than ten days and I’ve already made two powerful enemies. At least Rolf would be his enemy as soon as he figured out that Wiz had no intention of supporting his schemes. Dieter wanted to loot the town. Wiz suspected Rolf’s desires ran deeper and more dangerously. The man didn’t want money, he wanted power. Probably a lot more power than a mayor had ever had before.
Of the two Rolf was probably the more dangerous. Dieter’s hostility was open. With Rolf you’d never see the knife coming until it was buried in your back. You could see Dieter coming, but that didn’t mean you could dodge. He touched the ring of protection on his finger. It would place him in stasis if he was under immediate physical threat. If the damn spell had any sense I’d have been frozen solid a couple of days ago, he thought sourly.
Not a living soul was waiting to greet Wiz when he got home. Widder Hackett, however, was.
“Well Mr. Wizard, I hope you enjoyed your stroll around town because there’s been the netherworld to pay while you’ve been gone.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That demon of yours is holding the girl prisoner up in the upstairs parlor,” Widder Hackett said. “What the fiend has planned for her,” the ghost continued virtuously, “I wouldn’t want to guess.
“It’s what comes from consorting with them low-class demons,” Widder Hackett added as Wiz pounded up the stairs to rescue Anna.
He came into the room and found a hysterical maid facing off with a very determined scaly green demon.
“What’s going on here?”
“I, I was just trying to . . . and it, it . . .” Anna was hyperventilating and for a minute Wiz thought she was going to faint on him.
Wiz recognized the demon. It was the one he had set to guard his desk and it manifested if anyone tried to touch his papers or equipment. Apparently Anna, not knowing better, had tried to clean off the desk.
He put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her, and to catch her if she did faint. Anna was trembling like a leaf and she pressed her face into his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to look at the demon.
“Hey, it’s all right. He won’t hurt you if you don’t try to touch anything on the desk.”
“But he won’t let me leave!”
Wiz looked around and realized that to get to the door they would have to pass the desk. The demon wouldn’t attack unless someone tried to touch the things on the desk but it would certainly come alert if anyone but Wiz got close. I’ll have to turn the sensitivity down on the spell, he thought.
Malkin stuck her head in the door to see what the commotion was, saw Wiz and Anna, and disappeared before Wiz could say anything.
“He won’t hurt you if you don’t touch what’s on the desk,” he told her. “Look, I’ll dismiss him, okay?” A quick gesture and the demon vanished, looking smug. “There, it’s fine.” He gently pried her face out of his shoulder and turned her toward the desk. “See? No more demon.” With his arm still around her shoulder he walked her past the desk to the door.
“Now, you don’t have to clean around the desk, all right? That’s not part of your job anyway and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before. Are you okay now?” Anna sniffled and nodded.
Wiz drew a line on the floor in softly glowing blue light. “Look, anything inside this line I will take care of, okay? Just don’t touch any of it and I’ll make sure the demon doesn’t bother you.”
Bobo sauntered into the room, looked at the line and sniffed.
“Now just go on down to the kitchen and rest for a while. You’ll be okay?”
Anna sniffled and nodded.
“I’m sorry to be so much trouble My Lord, it’s just that . . .”
“I know,” Wiz said encouragingly, “it wasn’t your fault. Now go on.”
Still sniffling, Anna made her way downstairs toward the kitchen.
“Malkin,” Wiz called, “can you come in here a minute?”
“What’s up?” the slender thief asked as she strode into the room. Malkin showed no fear but Wiz noticed she kept just far enough away from the desk to keep from triggering the demon. For an instant he wondered how she knew the distance so exactly.
“Uh, about what you just saw. It wasn’t really what it looked like.”
Malkin waved a lazy hand. “Forget about it.”
“But I wanted to explain . . .”
“No need,” Malkin said. “The child’s safe with you.”
The way she said it, Wiz wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted.
“You’d better be careful though. The little ninny doesn’t have the sense to be afraid of magic. She’s likely to blunder into something you’d rather she didn’t.”
“I’ll take extra precautions,” Wiz assured her. “What about you? Aren’t you afraid of being around all this magic?”
Malkin laughed. “Afraid? Not hardly. I respect it is all.” The way she said it, and the way she smiled, left Wiz with a slightly uneasy feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He decided at the same time he turned down the demon’s sensitivity he was going to increase the protection.