Mike flashed that winning smile, again. “We will. Thank you.”
The place smelled of dust and cool, stale air. Someone had obviously
tidied up after the accident, but apparently no one had been here since.
The place had the feel of being not quite lived in.
“This is weird,” Craig said, looking around the apartment. Mikey made a
beeline for the desk.
“If we’re going to see the old bitch on the way out I don’t guess we’d
better take anything except the papers-unless she kept that gold here?”
“No, that’s in a safety deposit box.”
“Bingo!” Mike said, holding up a thick notebook triumphantly. “Right on
top of the pile.” He looked at the papers stacked beneath it. “And here’s
some more.” He started scooping up the papers and stacking them on top of
the notebook. “And some disks too. Find me a box to carry this shit, will
you?”
They couldn’t wait to get back to Mikey’s apartment, so they took a corner
booth in a coffee shop and set their box of plunder on the seat while they
spread the papers out to study them.
“Boy, I didn’t think that would work,” Craig said. “When the old lady
showed up I was sure we were dead.”
Mike looked at him contemptuously. “All you have to do is act sincere and
be polite. Then people will believe any bullshit you feed them. Especially
the old farts.”
Neither of them said anything as they studied the papers and notebook.
Their coffee arrived and Craig hardly looked up to add extra sugar and
nearly a whole pitcher of creamer. Mikey sipped his black, apparently
oblivious to the heat.
“It looks like the whole damn language is here,” Craig said finally.
“Weird-looking stuff, though.”
“You expected maybe ANSI C? Of course this shit’s weird. Look at what it
does.”
Craig put his hand down on the stack of papers and leaned across the table
to Mikey, eyes glowing. “You know what this is? I mean really? It’s the
road to your heart’s desire. Anything you want.”
“So, what do you want?”
Craig hesitated. “I guess a better world. Where people really care about
people, you know?”
Mikey looked amused. “No, I don’t know. Tell me.”
Craig fidgeted. “I dunno. But we went wrong here. I mean with all the
pollution and shit. We’ve just squeezed the beauty out of the way we live.
There’s no magic in the world.”
He toyed with the spoon in his coffee. “Maybe with magic we can build
something better. Something that uses magic and technology both in the way
they were supposed to be used.”
Outside the traffic rushed by.
“What about you? What’s your heart’s desire?”
Mike grinned lopsidedly. “That’s easy. I want to be master of all I
survey.”
Seven: JOURNEY
“Getting there is half the fun.”
-Wrong-way Corrigan
“I thought we were going outside,” Ragnar the dwarf complained as he
puffed along under a pack nearly as large as he was.
“We are,” Glandurg told him as he led his band up the sloping passageway.
Each of the dwarves was nearly buried in weapons, food and other
necessities for the journey.
“This doesn’t lead to the gate. The only things up here are the watch
posts.”
“You will see,” Glandurg assured his men. “Step lively now.”
The corridor grew steeper until finally it challenged even the
surefootedness of the dwarves, burdened as they were. The way was narrower
here above the highest of the workshops and habitations and the walls and
floor rougher. The tunnel began to turn more frequently as the very
mountain narrowed toward its peak. Several times they passed doors leading
to lookout posts on the mountain itself. The dwarves guarding the doors
did not salute them as they passed, but they didn’t try to stop them
either. That was reassuring to Glandurg’s followers, who still had trouble
believing that King Tosig had trusted his ne’er-do-well relative with an
important mission.
Finally, just when it seemed the trail couldn’t get any steeper or the
mountain any narrower, Glandurg stopped in front of an iron door set in
the rock. Fumbling in his pouch he produced a large key and turned it in