“Inevitably, if we’ll be away for any length of time. Of course, well
make no mention of what we really have in mind.”
I must force: “You don’t trust him–entirely?”
Her fingers tightened around her knees. “That’s beside the point. The
idea is to take Fu Ch’ing by surprise. What Will, or anybody, doesn’t
know can’t be… tricked… out of him.” She was silent for a bit. “We
can tell him about the al-Bunni plans in nonspecific terms. If something
comes of that, it won’t stay secret long.”
We entered his neighborhood of old houses, old trees, old memories. She
lifted us into the top traffic lane, which nobody else was using, and
unsheathed her wand. “Edgar,” she said to the bird on her shoulder,
“seek out any spy who lurks hereabouts,” added several arcane words, and
touched the star to his beak.
“Gruk,” he croaked, “yoicks,” and took off. We circled around several
blocks while he disappeared beneath the sunlit green crowns.
He was soon back, flapped alongside, and pointed with his beak. We
followed. When he landed on her shoulder again, she aimed the wand
straight earthward. It flashed. She smiled as sweetly as any cat at a
mouse, brought us to street level, and cruised past the spot. Two
vehicles stood on their unfolded legs a couple of blocks diagonally from
the rear of Will’s house, barely in sight of it. Neither was noteworthy,
a broom and a small carpet with its pavilion up and curtains drawn.
We passed on by. Ginny nodded. “Two men inside,’ she said, “doubtless
Fibbies. They’re employing a server and a spell checker. Whenever Will
leaves, I daresay one trails him, on foot or on the stick.”
“They’ll note our arrival,” I said unnecessarily.
“And why should we not visit my brother?”
“Hey,” I cried, “if he’s been under surveillance, then after that
encounter we had, he’s got to be in the clear!”
“A great enough, alien enough Power could deceive their eyes and blind
their apparatus.”
Her starkness shriveled my timbre. “You don’t mean you really believe–”
“No. I don’t. But it is a possibility that will have occurred to the
agency. We need facts–positive, not negative evidence–who and what the
enemy is, what he’s been doing and why.”
We settled in front of the little house. Sun-speckled shade cooled an
outsize, not too well mowed lawn. A goldfinch chirped energetically,
somewhere among leaves. Will met us at the door. His clothes were sloppy
and comfortable, his handshake firm, his voice hearty. “Welcome. What’s
the occasion?”
“Oh, to say hello and, well, see how you’re doing,” I replied. “You’re
looking pretty good.”
“Feeling it, too. Sorry I was such a moomph yesterday.” Was it only
yesterday? Judas priest! “In rotten shape. But now– Come in, come in.”
Ginny had kept her wand loosely in her hand and stayed a bit aside. From
the corner of an eye I saw her give the rod a casual half twirl that
swept the star-point over his breast before she collapsed and sheathed
it. Edgar leaned forward at the same instant, wings partly spread, beak
aimed.
“Why, is anything wrong?” she said to the raven, quite lightly, and once
more spoke a phrase unknown to me. He buzzed into her ear. She laughed.
“Just fidgety.” We went inside.
Crammed bookshelves fairly well lined the living room. Volumes spilled
over onto worn carpet and shabby chairs. They included an I Ching and
Book of Songs in the original–he’d identified them for us earlier–
through scientific and historical tomes to literature from Shakespeare
to Sherlock Holmes, with plenty of modern paperbacks in various
languages. Some of the covers on those were gaudy. Two fine old Chinese
scrolls found space on the walls. Something in the background, I guessed
by Vivaldi, turned the tobacco-tainted air lyrical.
Will cleared seats for us. “Beer?” he offered. “I’ve made a discovery, a
Dutch brew, worth sailing far for.”
We said yes, please, and settled ourselves, Edgar on the mantel amidst a
souvenir collection of Japanese figurines, dogs and badgers and whatnot.
Will went off to the kitchen. Ginny leaned close to me. Her whole being
glowed. “Steve,” she whispered, “he’s at peace.”