"We can't see them—and besides, we're not built to take hard radiation. Our atmosphere shuts most of it out."
(A real planet,) the white hole said, wondering and delighted, (with a real atmosphere. Well! If this is a planet, there has to be an Advisory around here somewhere. Could you help me find one?)
"Uhh—" Kit looked uncertainly at the white hole, "Sure. But do you think you could help me find some power? And Nita get her pen back?"
The white hole looked Kit up and down. (Some potential, some potential,) he muttered. (I could probably have you emitting light pretty quickly, if we worked together on a regular basis. Maybe even some alpha. We'll see. What's a pen?)
"What's your name?" Kit said, "I mean, we can't just call you 'hey you' all the time." (True,) the white hole said. (My name is Khairelikoblephareh-glukumeilichephreidosd'enagouni—) and at the same time he went flickering through a pattern of colors that was evidently the visual translation. "Ky—elik—" Nita began.
"Fred/' Kit said quickly. "Well," he added as they looked at him again, "if we have to yell for help or something, the other way's too long. And that was the only part I got, anyway." "Is that okay with you?" Nita asked.
The white hole made his figure-eight shrug again. (Better than having my true name mangled, I guess,) he said, and chuckled silently. (Fred, then. And you are?) "Nita." "Kit."
{I see why you like them short,) Fred said. (All right. Tell me what a 'pen' is, and I'll try to help you find it. But we really must get to an Advisory as fast as we can—) "Okay," Kit said. "Let's break the circle and go talk."
"Sounds good," Nita said, and began to erase the diagrams they had drawn. Kit cut the wizards' knot and scuffed the circle open in a few places, while Nita took a moment to wave her hand through the now-empty air. "Not bad for a first spell," she said with satisfaction. (I meant to ask,) Fred said politely, (what's a spell?)
Nita sighed, and smiled, and picked up her book, motioning Fred to folio* her over by where Kit sat. It was going to be a long afternoon, but she didn't care. Magic was loose in the world.
Research and Development
They were at the schoolyard early the next morning, to be sure they wouldn't miss Joanne and her crew. Nita and Kit sat on the curb by the front door to the school, staring across at the packed dirt and dull grass of the athletic field next to the building. Kit leafed through his wizards' manual, while Fred hung over his shoulder and looked around with mild interest at everything. (Will it be long?) he said, his light flickering slightly.
"No," Nita said. She was shaking. After the other day, she didn't want anything to do with Joanne at all. But she wanted that pen back, so …
"Look, it'll be all right," Kit said, paging through his manual. "Just do it the way we decided last night. Get close to her, keep her busy for a little while. Fred'll do the rest." "It's keeping her busy that worries me," Nita muttered. "Her idea of busy usually involves her fists and my face."
{I don't understand,) Fred said, and Nita had to laugh briefly—she and Kit had heard that phrase about a hundred times since Fred arrived. He used it on almost everything. (What are you afraid of?)
"This," Nita said, pointing to her black eye. "And this—" uncovering a bruise. "And this, and this—"
Fred regarded her with a moment's discomfiture. (I thought you came that way Joanne makes this happen?)
'Uh huh. And it hurts getting this way."
(But she only changes your outsides. Aren't your insides still the same afterward?)
Nita had to stop and think about that one. "Okay," Kit said suddenly, "here's the Advisory list for our area." He ran a nger down the page. "And here's the one in town. Twenty-seven Hundred Rose—"
"That's up the hill past the school. What's the name?"
"Lessee. 'Swale, T.B., and Romeo, C.J. Research Advisories, temporospatial adjustments, entastics, non-specific scryings—' "
"Wait a minute," Nita said hurriedly. " 'Swale'? You mean Crazy Swale? We can't go in there, Kit, that place is haunted! Everybody knows that! Weird noises are always coming out of there—"
"If it's haunted," Kit said, "it's haunted by wizards. We might as well go after school, it's only five or six blocks up the road."
They were quiet for a while. It was about twenty minutes before the bell would ring for the doors to open, and a few early kids were gathering around the doors. "Maybe we could rig you a defense against getting hit," Kit said, as he kept looking through his manual. "How about this?" He pointed at one page, and both Nita and Fred looked at the formula he was indicating. All it needed was the right words. It would be something of a strain to cany the shield for long, but Nita wouldn't have to; and any attempt to hit her would fust glance off.
(The problem is,) Fred said, (that spell will alter the field slightly around this Joanne person. I'm going to have a hard enough time matching my pattern to that of your pen so that I can get it off her—if indeed she has it. Her own field is going to interfere, and so will yours, Nita. More stress on the space in the area and I might not be able to get your pen back at all.)
Nita shook her head. She could tolerate another black eye if it meant getting that pen back. "Forget it," she said, still shaking, and leaned forward a bit, elbows on knees and face in hands, trying to relax. Above her the old maple trees were muttering morning thoughts in the early sunlight, languid observations on the weather and the decreasing quality of the tenant birds who built nests in their branches. Out in the field the grass was singing a scratchy soprano chorus — (growgrowgrowgrowgrowgrow) — which broke off abruptly and turned into an annoyed mob-sound of boos and razzes as one of the ground- keepers, way across the field, started up a lawnmower. I'm good with plants, Nita thought. I guess I take after Dad. I wonder if I'll ever be able to hear people this way. Kit nudged her. "You're on," he said, and Nita looked up and saw Joanne walking into the schoolyard. Their eyes met, Joanne recognized her, saw her handiwork, smiled. Now or never! Nita thought, and got right up before she had a chance to chicken out and blow everything, She walked over to Joanne without a pause, fast, to keep the tremor in her knees from showing. Oh, Fred, please be behind me. And what in the world can I say to her?
"I want my pen back, Joanne," she said,—or rather it fell out of her mouth, and she went hot at her own stupidity. Yet the momentary shocked look on Joanne's face made her think that maybe saying what was on her mind hadn't been so stupid after all. Joanne's shock didn't last; a second later she was smiling again. "Callahan," she said slowly, "are you looking for another black eye to match that one?"
"Lllp. No," Nita said, "just my pen, thanks."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Joanne said, and then grinned. "You always were a little odd. I guess you've finally flipped out."
"I had a space pen on me the other day, and it was gone afterward. One of you took it. I want it back." Nita was shaking worse than ever, but she was also surprised that the fist hadn't hit yet. And there over Joanne's shoulder, a flicker, a pinpoint of light, hardly to be seen, looking at her.
(Don't react. Make me a picture of the thing now.)
"What makes you think I would want anything of yours?" Joanne was saying, still with that smile. Nita looked straight at her and thought about the pen. Silver barrel, grooved all around the lower half so your fingers, or an astronaut's, wouldn't slip. Her initials engraved on it. Hers, her pen. (Enough. Now then—}