She moved the mouse and the on-screen mouse skittered over the first item on the list. As she had seen Wiz do so often, she pressed the steel mouse twice. The screen changed and she saw a series of messages. Another push on the mouse and the mouse demon on the screen flipped the first message down to reveal the next one. Malkin started going through them and puzzled out the messages as they came up.
What she got was extremely confusing. The first group of messages seemed to be jokes, except they were about pieces of knotted string-frayed knotted string-and mouse testicles. Malkin couldn’t understand why that was supposed to be funny and most of the stories didn’t make any sense anyway. There was another series which consisted mostly of a four-way argument with the participants hurling vituperative abuse at each other. The subject was obscure and she didn’t recognize all the words but she guessed that a complete translation would have made a fishwife blush.
The next batch of messages consisted of a host of extremely creative ways to kill off a being who was apparently some kind of demon-at least it was described as large and purple and the only things Malkin could think of that matched that description were demons. Judging from the hatred in the messages it must be an exceptionally evil demon. It also seemed to have a fondness for children. Perhaps it ate them, she couldn’t be sure.
Several of the messages mentioned a being called "Kibo" who seemed to be an extremely powerful demon. At least these people seemed to believe that mentioning the name brought them luck.
There were even some messages that seemed to bear upon magic. But they were obscure and often couched in strange combinations of runes which made her eyes water just to look at them.
Finally, unknowingly, she clicked out of the stored messages and into the next item on the menu, which happened to be chat mode.
Jerry was working late. Which meant it was dawn and he was still at his desk. He was deep in a piece of code when a slate-blue demon wearing a dress and sporting a telephone headset in her 1940s hairdo popped up at his elbow. "Wun-ringy-dingy," the creature pronounced in a nasal voice, "teew-ringy-dingy."
"Gotta get a new chat demon," he muttered. Then he saw who was asking to chat and hit the call button for Danny and Moira.
Danny had been in the kitchen getting a snack before he went to bed. He showed up with a slab of gingerbread liberally smeared with butter in his hand, a mouth so full he could barely breathe and a generous trail of crumbs leading down the hall.
Moira was right on his heels. Her face was puffy, her red hair a tangled mess and a green silk robe had been wrapped hurriedly around her.
"He’s on IRC," Jerry said over his shoulder. "But so far he hasn’t said anything."
"Here," Danny said around the gingerbread, "let me take it."
"But…"
"Get the search demon started," Danny hissed. "Use my workstation." Somewhat reluctantly Jerry gave up his seat and Danny set down his snack and began to type.
A message formed itself in fire at the level of Malkin’s eyes.
"How you doing?" it said.
Malkin had seen this happen with Wiz before but it was still a little surprising.
"All right," she picked out on the keyboard.
In chat mode a person’s method of typing is almost as distinct as a telegrapher’s "fist," especially when you’re expecting a very fast typist and you get someone whose method is obviously more hunt than peck.
"You’re not Wiz," Danny typed.
"Shut up," Jerry hissed. "Keep him on the line until we’ve got the location." Beside him the tracing demon was scribbling furiously as it unraveled link after link.
"Right about that," came the laborious reply. "I’m Malkin."
"Where’s Wiz?"
"In over his head is where," Malkin typed. "He’s out fighting a dragon."
Moira gasped, Danny paled and Jerry craned his neck to read the message from Danny’s workstation.
"Is he all right?" Danny typed.
Moira snorted when she read the question. "I told you he’s fighting a dragon," she picked out. "In these parts that ain’t healthy. Who are you?"
"I’m Jerry," Danny lied, "Wiz’s best friend. It sounds like he can use all the help he can get."
"You got that right," came the reply.
"Look, he’s under a spell cast by a dragon to keep him from telling us where he is. Can you tell us where he is?"
Malkin hesitated, then her thief’s caution won out.
"Look, I don’t know why but for some reason Wiz didn’t want you to know where he is. I don’t think I should tell you either."
"Shit," Danny muttered as he read the message. Behind him Moira said something considerably stronger.
"But he’s under a spell," he typed.
"So you say," was the answer. "Maybe you’re telling the truth and maybe you’re not. But it’s not for me to give away his secrets."
Danny looked over his shoulder and tried to gauge the progress of the tracking demon. "All right," he typed. "I guess we have to respect that."
Back in Wiz’s workroom Malkin had a sudden flash of insight. "You can find me through this, can’t you?"
"How could we do that?" came the hasty response. "We just want to talk is all."
"No," Malkin typed, "I’ve talked too long as it is. Goodbye." With that she moved to sign off.
"NO YOU IDIOT!!!" shrieked Widder Hackett but no one could hear her.
It was Bobo who rose to the occasion-literally. Before Malkin could complete the logoff sequence, he uncoiled from his spot on the windowsill, levitated across the room in a single bound and skidded to a four-point landing on the table next to the "computer." A quick lash of his powerful tail sent the cup of hot mulled wine splashing into Malkin’s lap.
With a curse Malkin jumped to her feet. Bobo hopped off the table, clawed her solidly on the ankle and ran out yowling. Malkin grabbed the fireplace poker and chased the cat down the hall. She didn’t realize she had forgotten to log off.
Back at the castle the programmers realized it immediately.
"Line’s still live!" Danny shouted. "Quick, get the trace going."
"That will take hours!" Jerry didn’t exactly shove Danny out of the chair but he squeezed in so quickly the smaller programmer almost landed butt-first on the floor.
His fingers blurred as he rattled through a sequence and the fiery letters flew from the demon’s pen.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Danny demanded as the message began to take shape.