So here I am, a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. Full of all kinds of modern knowledge. And that and a quarter—or whatever they use here for quarters—will get me a cup of coffee—or whatever they drink here for coffee.
If he had been a civil engineer or something he could have put his knowledge to use. He might at least have shown people how to build better bridges or catapults or whatever. But he wasn’t even a hardware type. Strictly software. And the only thing his knowledge was good for was sorting straws.
With a disgusted motion Wiz swept the half-sorted straws onto the floor. He dragged the heavy carved chair from the table to a place by the window and sat with his feet propped on the window ledge staring out.
Back home he could look out over the freeway and housetops to rolling golden hills marked with dark slashes where clumps of oaks and eucalyptus grew. Here all he could see was trees and off in the distance mountains covered with more trees. He missed that combination of open vistas and people close by. He even missed the rivers of automobiles that poured down the freeway.
He did a quick calculation and realized they were coming down to the wire on the project at work. Probably cursing him for disappearing at a critical point. I wonder who they got to replace me? The thought of a stranger working at his terminal, rearranging his carefully piled stacks of printouts made him ache. He got up and started to pace the length of the hall.
He had left half a box of fried chicken in his desk drawer, he remembered. Will they find that before it starts to stink up the office? And what about my apartment? The rent should be due by now. The bills will be piling up in the mailbox. How do they handle stuff like that when someone disappears? Wiz didn’t have a cat because the apartment didn’t allow pets. For the first time he was glad of it. At least there was no one who was really dependent on me.
Ugo came in with a load of wood for the evening’s fire. As he dropped it by the fireplace, he saw the chair against the window.
"You move?" he demanded.
"Yes."
He scowled and pointed at the chair. "Do not move things. It would confuse the Lady." He shifted it back to its place by the table.
"I’m sorry," Wiz said contritely.
"Do not move things," the goblin said sternly and continued on his way.
"Damn!" Wiz said to the empty air.
"Do not curse, Sparrow."
Wiz turned and saw Moira had come back into the hall.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, just a little homesick."
"I am sorry, Sparrow. I, too, wish to go home."
"At least you can get there from here," he said sullenly.
Moira compressed her lips. "Not while the Mighty bid me here to watch over you."
"You don’t do much watching. The only time I see you is at meals."
"Oh? Do you feel the need for a nursemaid, Sparrow?"
"I’m in love with you. I want to be close to you. Is that so hard to understand?"
Moira dropped her eyes. "That was none of my doing."
"All right, you don’t love me," Wiz said bitterly. "Then take this damn spell off me!"
"Do not use language like that." Moira said sharply.
"Sorry," Wiz snapped, "but that’s what it is."
The red-headed witch sighed. "Sparrow, if I had my way you never would have been bound to me in the first place. If it were in my power to remove the spell I would do so in an instant. But I cannot.
"I did not put the spell on you, Patrius did. It is not an infatuation spell I know and I do not have the faintest idea how to release you. Bal-Simba or one of the other Mighty could perhaps remove it. When Bal-Simba comes here I will ask him to take the spell off. More, I will beg him to take it off."
She softened. "I am sorry, Sparrow, but that is the best that I can do."
"Great," Wiz said. "In the meantime I’ve got a case of terminal puppy love combined with the moby hots for you. I’ve got to live under the same roof with you and have nothing to do with you. Da… darnit, before this happened you weren’t even my type! I like willowy brunettes."
Moira reddened. "I suppose you think this is easy for me! To have you trailing after me like a puppy dog, or a bull and me a cow in season? To have to stay here when there are people elsewhere who need me? To have to tiptoe around avoiding you for both our sakes? Do you think I enjoy any of it?" she shouted, her freckles vivid against her flushed skin, her bosom heaving and her green eyes flashing like emeralds in candlelight. Wiz could only stare, but Moira didn’t notice.
"Sparrow, believe me when I tell you I want nothing so much as to be rid of you and gone from this place." She turned on her heel and slammed out the door.
"Damn that old wizard anyway!" Wiz said viciously in his teeth. Then he went off to the woodpile to turn logs into kindling.
Moira didn’t exactly apologize and neither did Wiz. But the outburst seemed to clear the air slightly and for a while things at Heart’s Ease were a little less strained.
Other than that, life went on as before. Wiz chopped wood and moped about, Moira stayed out of his way, Shiara was as beautiful and gracious as ever and Ugo grumbled.
In addition to cutting firewood and sighing after Moira, Wiz did try to learn more about his new world and his new home.
"Ugo, why is Heart’s Ease so special?" Wiz asked one morning when the little wood goblin came out to the wood pile to collect his work.
"Because the Lady live here," said Ugo in a tone that indicated only an idiot would ask such a question.
Wiz put the axe down and wiped his brow. "I mean besides that. Moira said there was something about the way it was built."
"No magic," Ugo told him. "Every stone raised by hand. Every board and beam felled by axe and shaped by adze. All joined with pegs and nails. No magic anywhere in the building."
"Why not?"
"The Lady does not like magic," the goblin servant said, gathering in an armload of wood. "It hurts her now." With that he turned away to his duties.
Pumping Ugo for information was never very satisfactory, Wiz thought as he washed and changed for dinner. But then damn little around here is.
Wiz pulled a clean shirt out of his chest and paused in front of the mirror before putting it on. The days at the woodpile had put muscle on his frame and the sun had darkened his normally pasty torso. He still wasn’t going to win any bodybuilding contests, but he had to admit he looked a lot better than he normally did.
"Pretty good for someone who’s totally useless," he told himself.
"Are you sure?" the mirror asked soundlessly.
Wiz jumped and gasped. Then he stared. The mirror was angled so it did not catch the full brightness of the sun. It’s surface was dark and cloudy as always.
"Are you sure you’re so useless?" the mirror repeated. The words formed in Wiz’s mind.
"Well, yeah I’m sure," Wiz said aloud.
"You shouldn’t be," the mirror said. "You were brought from a long way at the cost of a man’s life. There are a lot of people who are looking very hard for you. I’d say that makes you pretty important."
Great! Wiz thought. Now I’m getting a pep talk from a Goddamn mirror.
"You need it from someone, bub. You’ve been sulking like a twelve-year-old ever since you got to Heart’s Ease. You need to pull out of it."
"What’s the use? I don’t fit in here and I never will."
"With that attitude you’re damn straight you never will," the mirror told him. "This isn’t the first time you’ve been a fish out of water. You’re the guy who spent two years doing software maintenance in a COBOL shop and managed to fit in pretty well."