“Just think of it as a funny looking mouse,” Wiz advised.
“Okay, phase two.” Jerry took the wand and drew it along the line on the map. Where the wand passed a trail of glowing green remained.
There was a stirring in the air, but nothing else changed.
“That’s it?” Judith asked.
“That’s it,” Jerry said. “You wanted lightning bolts maybe?”
“Is it permanent?” Moira asked.
“Until it’s reversed,” Jerry said. “But we can reverse it any time.”
“This will work until the Council can come up with some kind of policy they can enforce,” Wiz said. “It also establishes our good intentions with the elves and the other non-mortals. As long as the barrier’s in place I don’t think we will have a war.”
Einrich topped the rise and stopped. The path ahead of him lay clear, but he could not go that way. His ox whuffed and stamped nervously, catching his master’s indecision.
The peasant scanned the forest. The trees here were no different than the ones in the valley behind them. The same huge old giants sheltering an undergrowth of ferns. But it was different and he could not go that way.
The trail ran on ahead as it ran behind, winding between the big trees, skirting logs and avoiding the thickly grown patches where a tree had fallen and saplings and busy new growth competed for the light. But he could not follow the trail on.
Einrich frowned and without knowing quite why, turned back. The valley behind was far enough.
Twenty-Five : Project’s End
Programming is like pinball. The reward for doing it well is the opportunity to do it again.
—programmers’ saying
” . . . and a fifty percent bonus for successful completion of contract,” the clerk said, adding a second, smaller stack of golden cartwheels to the stack already on the table. “Sign here please.” Karl bent down and marked the leather-bound ledger next to his name. Behind him the other programmers were lined up to receive their pay.
“Hey, I like this,” one of them said. “No invoicing, no hassles with the bookkeeping department and nobody trying to hang onto the money a few days more to improve their cash flow. Why can’t all assignments be like this?”
“Speak for yourself. When I get home I’m going to hit the hot tub for about two days solid.”
“I”m for a Big Mac first,” someone else said. “No, make that six Big Macs.”
At the side of the room Bal-Simba smiled. “I am almost sorry to see them go. They have certainly enlivened this place.”
“Um, yes,” said Malus, who was standing between Bal-Simba and Wiz. He didn’t say it with a lot of conviction. “Uh, they are all going back, aren’t they?”
Wiz shook his head. “No. I learned my lesson. Jerry’s going to stay behind on a long-term contract to help with the programming. He isn’t the teacher that Karl is, but he’s a lot better than I am. In another year or so he can leave and we’ll be able to use our own people.”
“Oh,” said Malus. “But just one, you say?”
“Just one.”
Moira, who was standing behind them, grinned at the byplay and turned her attention back to the programmers. They were all glad to be going, she saw. The work had been interesting, but the job was done. Now it was time to move on to other things.
Moira felt a pang. She would miss them, with their strange jokes and their casual insanities and their odd, warped way of looking at the universe. She would miss the camaraderie she had shared with them and even their cheerful way of working themselves into blind exhaustion to meet their goals.
But much as she liked them, they were not of her World. Malus was right. They did not belong here and it would be hard on everyone if they stayed.
Still, it hurt to say goodbye.
“Lady?” a voice said softly. Moira turned and saw it was Judith. She had changed from the long dress and girdle she had worn around the keep and back into her slacks and unicorn T-shirt, the first time she had worn that outfit since arrival.