"I hope so… that's probably the only way I'm gonna get at it. But it's okay; she won't blow it up. Her science class has a IIIc: that's one of the reasons Mom and Dad got this one. Dari already knows more about it than the teacher does."
Kit rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh," Nita said. "But I'm not gonna let her monopolize this toy, lemme tell you.
It's a neat little thing-it has the new foldout screen, and batteries-you could put it in a bookbag. I'll show you later. . Where's Ponch?"
"Outside. C'mon."
They went out and sat on the side steps. The locusts were buzzing louder than ever as Ponch, Kit's big black mutt, part Border collie, part German shepherd, came bounding up the driveway to them through the green-gold early sunlight. "Oh, Lord, look at his nose," Nita said. "Ponch, you got stung again, you loon."
"I buried a bone," Ponch said in a string of whines and barks as he came up to them. "The bad things bit me."
"His favorite bone-burying place," Kit said, sounding resigned, "has three yellowjacket nests spaced around it. He gets stung faster than I can heal him."
"Brave," Ponch said, resting his chin, with the swollen black nose, on Nita's shoulder, and looking sideways at her for sympathy.
"Dumb," Nita said, scratching him behind the ears. "But brave. Go get a stick, brave guy. I'll throw it."
Ponch slurped Nita's face and raced off.
Kit smiled to see him run.
"So what*re we doing today? Anything?"
"Well, there's a new show at the planetarium in the city. Something about other galaxies. My folks said I could go if I wanted to."
"Hey, neat. You got enough money?"
"Just."
"Great. I think I've got enough-let me check."
Nita went back into the house, noticing as she passed through the living room that Dairine was already slipping a diskette into the Apple's built-in disk drive, while her oblivious mother and father were still sitting on the floor pointing at different pages in three different manuals, and arguing cheerfully. Queep! the computer said from the living room, as Nita got into her room and upended the money jar on the dresser.
There was no pause in the arguing. Sometimes I think they like it, Nita thought, counting the bills. She had enough for the planetarium, and maybe a couple of hot dogs afterward. Nita stuffed the money in her pocket and pushed the jar to the back of the dresser.
-And her eye fell on the record album again. She tipped it up by one corner to look at her wizard's manual, still open to the Oath. She pulled the book out, idly touching the open pages as she held it. In Life's name, and for Life's sake, began the small block of type on the right-hand page, / say that I will use this art only in service of that Life. .
Dairine was in here yesterday, Nita thought, skimming down over the words of the Oath. . And she was reading this. For a moment Nita was furious at the idea of her sister rummaging around in her things; but the anger didn't last. Maybe, she thought, this isn't so bad after all. She's been pestering me with questions about wizardry ever since she found out there really is such a thing. She thinks it's all excitement. But the Oath is heavy stuff. Maybe it threw a little scare into her with all the stuff about "time's end" and doing what you have to, no matter what. Be a good thing if it did make her back off a little. She's too young for this. .
Nita shut the manual, tucked it under her arm and headed out into the living room. Dairine was standing in front of the computer, keying in instructions; the Apple logo came up on the monitor, followed by a screenful of green words too small for Nita to read from across the room. Her mother and father were still deep in the manual. "Mom," Nita said, "Kit and I want to go into the city, to the planetarium, is it okay? Kit's folks said he could."
Nita's mother glanced at her, considering. "Well… be back before | dark."
"Stay out of Times Square," her father said without looking up, while paging through a manual open in his lap.
"Do you have enough money for the train?" her mother said.
"Mom," Nita said, hefting her wizard's manual in one hand, "I don't think we're going to take the train."
"Oh." Her mother looked dubiously at the book. She had seen more than enough evidence of her daughter's power in the past couple of months: but Nita knew better than to think that her mother was getting comfortable about wizardry, or even used to it. "You're not going into the city to, uh, do something, are you?"
"We're not on assignment, Mom, no. Not for a while, I think, after last time."
"Oh. Well. . just you be careful, Neets. Wizards are a dime a dozen as far as I'm concerned, but daughters. ."
Nita's father looked up at that. "Stay out of trouble," he said, and meant it.
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Betty, look right here. It says very plainly, 'Do not use disk without first-"
"That's software, Harry. They mean the diskette, not the disk drive-
"
Nita hurried out through the kitchen before her folks could change their minds. Kit was evidently thinking along the same lines, since he was standing in the middle of the sandy place by the backyard gate, using the stick Ponch had brought him to draw a wizard's transit circle on the ground. "I sent Ponch home," he said, setting various symbols around the circumference of the circle.
"Okay." Nita stepped in beside him. "Where you headed? The Grand Central worldgate?"
"No, there are delays there this morning. The book says to use Penn Station instead. What time have you got?"
Nita squinted up at the Sun. "Nine thirty-five."
"Show-off. Use the watch; I need the Naval Observatory time."
"Nine thirty-three and twenty seconds," Nita said, scowling at her Timex, "now."
"Not bad. Let's haul it before-"
"What are you doing!" yelled Nita's father, inside the house. Nita and Kit both jumped guiltily, then looked at each other. Nita sighed.
"Too late," Kit said.
At nine thirty-three and twenty-eight seconds, the screen door opened and pairine was propelled firmly out of it. Nita's father put his head out after Dairine, and looked up the driveway. "Take her with you," he said to Nita, and meant that too.
"Yes, sir," Nita said, trying not to sound surly as the screen door slammed shut. Kit rolled his eyes and slowly began adding another set of symbols to those already inside the circle. Dairine scuffed over to them, looking at least as annoyed as Nita felt.
"Well," Dairine said, "I guess I'm stuck with you."
"Get in," Kit said, sounding resigned. "Don't step on the lines."
"And try not to freak out too much, okay?" Nita said.
Dairine stepped over the bounds of the circle and stood there with her arms folded, glaring at Nita.
"What a great time we're all going to have," Kit said, opening his manual. He began to read in the wizardly Speech, fast. Nita looked away from her sister and let Kit handle it.
The air around them began to sing-the same note ears sing when they've been in a noisy place too long; but this singing got louder, not softer, as seconds passed. Nita had the mild satisfaction of seeing Dairine start to look nervous at that, and at the slow breeze beginning around them when everywhere else the summer air was still. The breeze got stronger, dust around them whipped and scattered in it, the sound scaled up until it blotted out almost everything else. And despite her annoyance, Nita suddenly got lost in the old familiar exhilaration of magic working. From memory-for she and Kit had worked this spell together many times-she lifted her voice in the last chorus of it, where the words came in a rush, and the game and skill of the spell lay in matching your partner's cadence exactly. Kit dropped not a syllable as Nita came in, but flashed her a wry grin, matching her word for word for the last ten seconds; they ended together on one word that was half laugh, half shout of triumph. And on the word, the air around them cracked like thunder and struck inward from all directions, like a blow.