At last the doors flew open and they stepped out into another corridor.
This one was broad and clean, at least. The floor was tiled in jade-green
material, the walls were malachite and the ceilings and wall decorations
were in polished gold. It was like being inside a Faberge Easter egg and
it removed any last lingering doubts Wiz might have had about his hosts’
taste.
The robot lurched drunkenly down the corridor and caromed off the wall,
knocking off chips of malachite and bending a golden wall sconce.
At the end of the hall was a bronze portal. The robot stopped before it
and made a motioning gesture with its arm that nearly took Wiz’s head off.
Then it froze.
Wiz recovered from the accidental assault, realized his guide had signaled
him through the door, saw that the robot wasn’t likely to make any other
dangerous moves, and stepped past.
The room was as out-of-scale as everything else in the castle. One whole
side and half the ceiling was picture-window-size panes of glass giving a
panoramic eagle’s-eye view of red desert and sere mountains. The place was
fitted out like a laboratory, or perhaps a control room, with panels of
dials and switches everywhere, the odd arc of electricity here and there
and huge pieces of unidentifiable apparatus scattered about. The whole
room reeked of electricity and danger.
There were two humans waiting for him there.
The younger one reminded Wiz a little of the way Danny had looked when
they first met, kind of soft and unformed. The other one was a few years
older, harder and leaner. He was sitting on one of the control consoles
with his legs dangling. Even though he was relaxed, there was something
predatory in the way he looked at Wiz.
For a minute no one said anything.
“Uh, hi. I’m Wiz Zumwalt. From Cupertino.” His voice was almost lost in
the huge room.
“We know who you are,” the older one said. He reached behind him, picked
up a beer bottle and took a swig. No one made a move to offer Wiz a drink.
“Lurch there is really something,” Wiz said brightly.
“He’s an early model,” the younger one said. “The ones we build now are a
lot better.”
His companion grinned nastily. “Much better.”
“Very impressive.”
The silence stretched on.
“I’m Craig Scott,” the young one said at last. “This is Mikey Baker.”
“Craig talks too much,” Mikey said conversationally. “Don’t you, Craig?”
Craig wilted.
“Pleased to meet you,” Wiz said.
“Yeah?”
Again the silence stretched out.
“Anyway, I thought we should meet, you know, talk.”
“So talk.”
“You know you upset a lot of people when you showed up.”
Mikey smiled. A not at all pleasant smile. “No shit? Well, we’re going to
upset a lot more people, aren’t we Craig?”
“We sure are.”
“What are you going to do? What do you want?”
“We’re going to build a whole new order,” Craig said. “We’re going to
combine magic and technology into a system that really works for mankind.
When we get done things will be better than they have ever been.”
“Only you won’t be around to see it, man,” Mikey said.
“We’re going to . . .”
“You talk too much, Craig,” Mikey repeated without heat. “Now shut up and
let the grownups talk, will you?”
He took another pull on his beer.
“You see, you’re squatting on a prime piece of real estate, you and your
friends. Now it so happens we need that place. So in just a little while
we’re going to come over and take it.”
Wiz went cold. “Hey look, we can negotiate . . .” But Mikey cut him off
with a sharp bark of laughter.
“What’s to negotiate?” he said, sliding off the table and stalking over to
Wiz. “We’re here and you’re history.” He jammed his face into Wiz’s, so
close Wiz could see the pores on his skin. “We’re gonna get your whole
flicking world before we’re through, baby, and there’s not a damn thing
you can do about it.”
“The hell there isn’t,” Wiz flared back. “Technology doesn’t work over
there, remember? And we’ve got magic the likes of which you’ve never