“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.
Jerry stopped typing and backspaced over a mistake. “I’ve turned off the routine that splits spells into pieces on the screen so you don’t activate them just by entering them.”
“I can see that.”
“As soon as this spell appears on Wiz’s terminal it will activate. Just printing it out is the equivalent to reciting it.” Another pause and more frantic backspacing. “It’ll produce a big flare of magic to show us where Wiz is.”
“It is also gonna produce a big flare of magic here,” the younger programmer pointed out. “That’s likely to raise all kinds of hell with the spells around here.”