Genie and Engineer 1: The Engineer Wizard (14 page)

“That’s right, Paul. When a wizard creates a talisman, the
energies that are released are fantastic. They can be detected from anywhere on
Earth.”

Paul mulled that over. Merlin should have warned him. But
perhaps he was being too hard on the old wizard. Maybe Merlin would have warned
him if he had asked the right questions.

“Can you teach me how to mask my spells?” Paul asked, indeed,
practically begged her. “Help me avoid the Oni?”

“Of course, Paul,” she graciously replied. “And I can teach
you a lot more. A good wizard, if necessary, can fight a half-dozen Oni and
win, but the best solution is to avoid them altogether. You can be taught how
to do that and also to construct a better talisman. You can even be taught how
to—ah, how do I say this delicately?—make a few physical and mental
enhancements.”

Paul chuckled in amusement at her tactful turn of phrase. “I’m
anxious to get started on that as well.”

“Excellent,” Celeste commented with another one of her
brilliant smiles. “Then perhaps, for dinner, you might feel up to a little
company?”

Paul frowned at the abrupt change in the direction of the
conversation. He was enjoying her company a lot. He suddenly wasn’t crazy about
sharing her with someone else.

“Who would that be?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could
manage.

“Dr. Duncan Ruggiero, a wizard I admire very much
.”

Ah, joy. Another man. And a doctor, too. Wonderful. He
sounds stuffy already
, Paul thought.

“Oh, I see. Is he the one who interviews new wizards?” he inquired
somewhat sardonically.

Celeste blinked, her smile losing a degree of potency.
“Hardly. You are the first new wizard in more than four hundred years. Except
for that genie-turned-wizard friend of yours, of course.”

Paul stared at her in shock, a tingle moving up and down his
back. Four hundred years?! But....

“That’s impossible!” he resolutely declared with a pinched
expression. “Why, you yourself can’t be more than twenty-five years old!”

Her smile developed a tinge of sadness. “Paul, I was born in
a tiny hamlet near Andorf, Austria in the sixth month of the year of our Lord
1505.”

Paris, France

16
^th
Arrondissement

December

Thursday, 2:02 p.m. CET

C
eleste
offered her profound apologies but informed Paul that she had to go out for a
while to run a few vitally important errands. In the meantime, she insisted
that he make himself at home, providing him with an upstairs bedroom at his disposal
if he felt like taking a nap.

“There is also a wonderful library in the house,” she told
him. “It’s on the other side of the front room, near the front door, behind a
double set of doors. It’s quite extensive. Dr. Ruggiero has personally taken
responsibility for its upkeep, and I think it will suitably impress you. Feel
free to browse it in your leisure.”

After making sure that Paul had everything he might need or
want while she was gone, Celeste smiled and repeated her apologies, leaving by
way of portal shortly before noon.

Although Paul felt tired and in need of a good rest, he
couldn’t picture himself taking a nap, not in the middle of the day. Since he
loved a good book (mostly science-fiction, of course, but he had other
interests as well), and since Celeste had spoken so highly of the selection in
the library, he decided to wander over to that room and check it out for
himself.

The library was a marvelously furnished room, lined with
bookcases overflowing with huge old books, a massive oak desk sitting near the
big bay window, and a black leather sofa with end tables occupying the middle
of the room. A large oriental rug adorned the wood floor. The portions of the
walls not hidden behind the bookcases were paneled in dark-stained wood. All in
all, it would be just the perfect place to curl up with a good book on a dark
and stormy night, a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

Paul merrily stepped over to the nearest bookcase and began
browsing the titles.

Then he began to frown. Most of the titles he read weren’t
even written in English. And the ones he could read looked pretty bland. As he
worked his way through the library, he found books on history, medicine,
surveying, shipping, and law. But there didn’t seem to be any books on math,
physics, or engineering. And not a single work of fiction either, not even
Shakespeare or any of the other classical writers. For a library, this was
woefully out of date and boring as well.

Paul finally selected a history book, one about the ancient
Germanic people, printed in London, England in 1833. He spread out on the sofa,
settling into a comfortable position, and opened to page one.

Right away, he knew he was in trouble. The writing style was
stilted, some of the words obscure, and the concepts were awkwardly presented.
At times, even the author seemed confused about the material and wandered
around aimlessly.

Paul’s eyes began to droop. He managed to read another two
pages but then lost the battle to stay awake. Leaning his head against the arm
cushion, he fell asleep, the book draped across his chest.

• • • •

Paul woke up and pushed away a pink comforter, sitting
upright on the edge of a magnificent king-sized bed, complete with satin sheets
and a goose-feather pillow. For a few moments, he looked around in complete
bafflement, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there. The last thing
he remembered, he had been in the library, reading a very boring book. Now he was
in a bedroom, dressed in a set of red pajamas.

Celeste. It must have been Celeste. She must have come back
to the house, found him asleep in the library, and then magically moved him to
a bedroom. It was the only explanation that Paul could think of that made any
sense. And since there was a dinner jacket and a pair of dress slacks hanging
from a clip on the back of the bedroom door then, yes, it pretty much confirmed
the theory, at least in Paul’s mind. The clothes were even in his size.

With difficulty (due to his arm), he dressed and went
downstairs to look for her.

There was a man in the living room having a conversation
with Celeste. She had changed clothes and now wore a sultry, dark blue,
shoulder-less evening dress. She looked gorgeous. The man was wearing a dark
suit and tie. Celeste introduced him to Paul as Dr. Duncan Ruggiero.

Dr. Ruggiero was tall, at least 6 foot 2, dark-skinned, with
black hair in a crewcut, a prominent nose, thick eyebrows, and black eyes set
wide apart. He carried himself with dignity, and Paul could easily see him as a
leader of men. He vaguely reminded Paul of Laurence Fishburne of the
Man of
Steel
and
The Matrix
movies.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Armstead,” Ruggiero
asserted in a resonant voice as he shook Paul’s hand. “Celeste speaks very
highly of you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dr. Ruggiero,” Paul replied
politely.

Celeste gracefully interrupted, saying, “Gentlemen, dinner
is ready. Shall we eat while the food is still warm?”

“Quite,” echoed Ruggiero.

He took the head of the dining-room table, Celeste sitting at
his right hand. Of course, Paul chose to sit on Celeste’s right.

The dinner table was spotless, completely bare of food,
dishes, or silverware, and Paul briefly wondered just what they were supposed
to eat.

The door to what Paul assumed to be the kitchen swung open silently,
and a series of china plates floated smoothly through, spinning along on thin
air. They were followed by silverware (marching along in a vertical position
like tin soldiers), saucers, napkins, and glasses.

Neither Celeste nor Ruggiero seemed to notice the procession,
and what was worse, Paul couldn’t tell whose magic was making it happen, though
he could sense the magic at play. And he was strongly impressed. True, the
energies involved weren’t very significant. But the degree of precision and
control! His eyebrows went up in amazement and appreciation.

The plates moved around behind everyone, and then, in
perfect synchronization, they slid past their shoulders and touched down lightly
on the table. Everything else followed suit into their proper placements.

“Mr. Armstead,” Ruggiero said formally. “Ordinarily, we don’t
discuss business during a meal. However, since you are our guest, and since you
have different customs in America, we would like to dispense with European
conventions on this one occasion. Do you have any objections?”

Paul was listening to Dr. Ruggiero, but he continued to
watch, still impressed, as a new parade of items streamed through the door,
beginning with a series of salad bowls and small individual baskets of dinner
rolls. He also noted, with considerable interest, that no one was using
incantations for their spells. Apparently, like the wizard/genie, their skill
level didn’t require them to use spoken words. He hoped that one day, he would
be able to do the same thing.

“That would be fine,” he answered automatically as he
solemnly watched the salads and rolls descend into their places on the table.
It really was eerie to watch food deliver itself to be eaten.

“Celeste has related to me the details of your narrative,” Ruggiero
informed Paul with an air of quiet dignity. “An interesting series of events,
indeed. Very interesting. Would you object to my asking a few supplementary
questions?”

Paul shrugged in indifference, turning his attention back to
Celeste. “Not at all,” he replied, watching Celeste stab some of her salad with
a fork and take a bite. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he picked up his own fork
and slowly did the same.

“You say a genie turned himself into a wizard and then made
you into a wizard too. Do you know the name of the genie?” Ruggiero inquired.

Swallowing his bite of salad, Paul thought for a moment
about the question. It seemed unimportant to him. Did genies have names? Well, he
supposed that they must have.

“He never told me his name,” Paul admitted apathetically,
still far more interested in watching Celeste. “Why do you ask?”

Ruggiero considered the question as he chewed.

“We would like an opportunity to meet him too,” he finally
replied. “But unfortunately, no one I’ve talked to knows anything about him.
However, I am sure that in time, he will turn up. Was it he who taught you how
to make your own talisman?”

“Ah, no. Merlin did...ah, I mean, a spell told me how,” Paul
answered after another bite of salad.

“Very good. May I see your talisman?” Ruggiero gave Paul a
disarming smile. “I promise to give it back.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Paul removed his talisman from
the inside pocket of his dinner jacket and handed it to Ruggiero. The doctor studied
both sides of it and then did a curious thing. He closed his eyes and placed
the talisman flat against his forehead.

“Yes, gold and fairly pure. Good. The emeralds are of decent
quality, though there are quite a few impurities and flaws in the crystals
themselves. The meteorite isn’t too bad, though it has similar flaws. Oh, and
you used obsidian. There are other, much better choices. And the spell you used
to construct it must not have been the optimum. Still, I must compliment you on
a fine first-time construct, and only after having magical powers for a couple
of days, as well. You show considerable promise, my dear sir. Very considerable
promise.” He turned to Celeste. “Wouldn’t you agree, Celeste?”

She smiled and nodded. “Paul is a good man.”

Paul felt his heartbeat tick up a notch at her agreement.

Ruggiero handed the talisman back to Paul and then proceeded
to eat a roll before continuing. “I was struck by your escape from the Oni, how
close you came to death. Nasty business, that. Very unfortunate that it
happened so soon after gaining your powers. You say you used a spell to dig a tunnel
in the earth in order to escape?”

Paul frowned, perplexed by the question. Apparently, the
story had become twisted in the retelling of it.

“No, I allowed my molecules to slide past the molecules of
the earth,” he explained patiently as he studied Ruggiero’s face to see if he
was testing him in some unknown manner.

“Yes, that was it,” Ruggiero agreed with a polite smile.
“Very ingenious on your part. Most people would not have thought of that,
especially in a life-or-death situation such as you faced. Oh, and I dare say
that when you opened a portal into outer space, that too was a flash of genius.
The Oni were bound to follow, the dumb brutes. Wherever did you think of such a
solution?”

There was something about his questions that set Paul on
edge. Yes, the doctor was polite enough, and Paul could find nothing in the
man’s words that challenged either himself or his story. Yet, the man left him with
an uncomfortable feeling. Glancing at Celeste, he wondered if he might be a
little jealous of the other wizard. A small voice in the backside of his mind
was telling him that Celeste and Ruggiero had known each other for hundreds of
years. On the other hand, Paul had just literally shown up on Celeste’s radar
two days previously, and she had only known him for less than a day. Okay, so maybe
Paul’s primitive subconscious was throwing out nefarious ideas when in reality,
there was no true cause for concern. Ruggiero had to be one of the good guys,
if a bit stiff and formal. Paul’s mother would have called him cultured.

“I saw it in
2001: A Space Odyssey
,” Paul courteously
answered. “A science-fiction movie.”

Both of the other wizards actually froze momentarily in mid-motion,
Ruggiero managing to recover first. “Yes, yes, how...unusual. Inspiration can
come from the most unlikely sources sometimes,” he muttered, apparently
troubled by Paul’s answer, though for the life of him, Paul didn’t understand
why.

Then Ruggiero smiled again. “Still, Mr. Armstead, we welcome
you into our presence, where you will be safe. Celeste tells me that she has
already offered you our modest services, to help heal your wounds and to teach
you how to properly develop your new abilities. Does this meet with your
approval?”

Paul nodded quickly and anxiously in agreement, feeling
deeply grateful for the offer. “Yes, please, I would like that very much.”

Ruggiero continued to smile. “I would like to give you fair
warning, too, as it were. Celeste has told you of the conflict among the other
wizards
.
If you elect to stay with us, we will likely take advantage of
the opportunity to solicit your recruitment. Celeste probably told you that we
are forming a group of wizards to try and discourage the appalling escalation of
world violence. We could use someone with your obvious talents and abilities.
You will be given a position of considerable authority. And you will be
handsomely compensated as well. Very handsomely so. Have you any objections to
hearing and considering our proposals in that regard?”

It didn’t take a wizard to know that Celeste was listening
carefully to Paul’s reply. How could he dare to refuse in front of her?

“I would like to hear your proposals, yes,” Paul said with a
quick nod. “But I also need to go back to California and take care of a few
things.”

“Most excellent,” Ruggiero replied. “However, we can’t let
you go back to the States just yet, not with that arm. We can start on that
problem in the morning. I will contact a trusted associate and get him started
on locating a suitable replacement for you. It might take a day or two to find
the right one. In the meantime, Celeste and I shall stay with you, to see to
your needs. While you are here, please feel free to make yourself comfortable. As
you’ve already discovered, we have a remarkable library available, which you
are welcome to continue to browse at your convenience.”

“Thanks,” Paul said, trying mightily to hide his disappointment
that Ruggiero was planning to stay. Why couldn’t the doctor leave to search for
a new arm instead of sending someone else? That way, Paul could spend a little
more time with Celeste.