"Why?"
"Because during this delicate period it would not be safe. You might contract the dread-" his voice lowered to a near whisper "-chicken pox."
"Oh, right. Of course. I’ll do just as you say. Thank you sir. Thank you." With that the man gathered his chickens and strutted out.
"Chicken pox, huh?" Wiz said when the man had left, birds dangling.
Llewllyn shrugged. "Not my most inspired invention, I will admit, but it should suffice."
"And tansy?"
"The stuff’s a roadside weed around here and it stinks. The smell makes them think it’s powerful. Like putting alum in medicine so it will taste bad."
"What do you think he’s going to do if his chickens don’t improve?"
"Oh, they will improve." Llewllyn’s face screwed up as if he was thinking of something unpleasant. "My Lord, I have a certain experience with chickens. The only thing wrong with those birds is that he is pestering them to death. If he leaves them alone they will settle down and all will be well. And if not-" Again the shrug. "I will simply tell him he must obtain a coal black cock without a speck of white upon him. That should occupy him for a few moons."
Their next client was a heavyset young woman with a bad complexion and a red nose. She ventured through the door as if she was afraid that the two men would bite her. In one plump hand she held a handkerchief which looked as if it had seen recent use. Wiz decided that was a bad sign.
Llewllyn didn’t seem to notice. He rose and made a sweeping bow to their client. "Come in young lady. Please sit and tell us what has brought you to us."
The young woman twisted her hanky and bit her lip. "I don’t know," she said in an undertone. "It’s such a small thing, really."
Llewllyn’s smile grew even brighter. "There is no problem too small for us, dear lady. We are here to serve your every wish. Please be seated and tell us about it."
Thus encouraged the girl eased herself down into the chair.
"Well, I, I hardly know where to begin."
"Begin wherever you feel like, dear lady," Llewllyn said gently. "The magic will tell me the rest."
"There is the young man," the girl said in a low voice.
"Ah," Llewllyn nodded. "A special young man? Perhaps one who does not notice you?"
"How did you know?" the girl asked.
"Magic tells me many things. But do go on."
"Well," the girl relaxed in her chair, "he’s our neighbor you see…"
By the time Wiz left fifteen minutes later Llewllyn and the girl were head-to-head across the table. He hadn’t given her any advice that Wiz could see, just a lot of encouragement, but she seemed to think he had the answer to everything from her love life to the riddle of Dark Matter-or she would have if she’d known what Dark Matter was, Wiz thought.
Obviously his new assistant had a future in this end of the business. Now if Wiz could just keep him from bilking the customers or trying to practice unauthorized magic, he’d have one less thing to worry about.
That morning the director of the FBI had a lot of things to worry about. As her assistants filled her in on Clueless Pashley’s latest exploit, she stubbed out her cigarette and lit a new one. She was back up to a pack-and-a-half a day and headed rapidly for two packs. Her fingers were stained, her breath stank, she had burn holes in her clothes and twice she had nearly set her desk on fire when she missed an ash tray.
"Where is this clown now?" she asked Paul Rutherford when he finished his report.
"The local office bailed him out," her assistant said. "They’ve got him stashed in a safe house to keep him away from the newspapers."
This was a public relations disaster.
"Senator Halliburton’s office called this morning. His committee wants to hold hearings on violating civil rights in national security cases. This Judith Conally and the science fiction writer are going to be his star witnesses."
A public relations disaster and a political nightmare, the director amended. "Could this get any worse?"
"Only if Pashley gets back out on the street," Rutherford ventured. The director glared at him and he wilted. "Uh, no ma’am, I don’t think it’s likely to get much worse."
Unbidden a snatch of a country song came into the director’s head. You gotta know when to hold ’em, and know when to fold ’em. She hated country music.
"All right." She mashed out the half-smoked cigarette. "Settle!"
"Settle?"
"That writer’s case against us. Tell the Justice Department to settle with him. And settle with this Conally woman. Make apologies, blame it on a rogue agent. But settle."
"Ma’am," Rutherford said carefully, "that sets a very bad precedent."
"It will set a worse precedent if the director of the FBI murders an agent," she growled. "Just pay whatever it takes."
Seventeen: Invitation To an Auto-de-Fe
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Wiz got home just after noon to find the mayor sniffling on his doorstep. At first Wiz thought someone had died. Then His Honor produced a well-used handkerchief from his sleeve and blew his nose again.
Wiz invited the man in. As they crossed the threshold Malkin was just coming up from the kitchen. They eyed each other with mutual distaste for a moment and the mayor put a protective hand on his chain of office.
"You wanted to see me, Your Honor?" Wiz asked, as much to break the tension as anything else.
"I came to warn you, Wizard." He stopped, his face screwed up and he sneezed thunderously.
"What? That it’s pollen season?"
The mayor sniffled and wiped his watering eyes. "No, it’s Dieter. He’s moving against you in the council. At our next meeting, two days from today, he plans to call for your resignation."
There was nothing Wiz would have liked better than to resign. But since his resignation would doubtless be followed immediately by his condemnation to The Rock, it didn’t seem like a good idea to follow his desires.
The mayor looked even more like a basset hound than usual. "He’s gathering votes on the council. I’ll support you, of course, but it will be close, I’ll tell you that."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Could you perhaps be at the meeting? You know, talk to them the way you did before."
"Of course. Can you get me some time on the agenda before the vote?"