If he had been a civil engineer or something he could have put his knowledge to use. He might at least have shown people how to build better bridges or catapults or whatever. But he wasn’t even a hardware type. Strictly software. And the only thing his knowledge was good for was sorting straws.
With a disgusted motion Wiz swept the half-sorted straws onto the floor. He dragged the heavy carved chair from the table to a place by the window and sat with his feet propped on the window ledge staring out.
Back home he could look out over the freeway and housetops to rolling golden hills marked with dark slashes where clumps of oaks and eucalyptus grew. Here all he could see was trees and off in the distance mountains covered with more trees. He missed that combination of open vistas and people close by. He even missed the rivers of automobiles that poured down the freeway.
He did a quick calculation and realized they were coming down to the wire on the project at work. Probably cursing him for disappearing at a critical point. I wonder who they got to replace me? The thought of a stranger working at his terminal, rearranging his carefully piled stacks of printouts made him ache. He got up and started to pace the length of the hall.
He had left half a box of fried chicken in his desk drawer, he remembered. Will they find that before it starts to stink up the office? And what about my apartment? The rent should be due by now. The bills will be piling up in the mailbox. How do they handle stuff like that when someone disappears? Wiz didn’t have a cat because the apartment didn’t allow pets. For the first time he was glad of it. At least there was no one who was really dependent on me.
Ugo came in with a load of wood for the evening’s fire. As he dropped it by the fireplace, he saw the chair against the window.
“You move?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
He scowled and pointed at the chair. “Do not move things. It would confuse the Lady.” He shifted it back to its place by the table.
“I’m sorry,” Wiz said contritely.
“Do not move things,” the goblin said sternly and continued on his way.
“Damn!” Wiz said to the empty air.
“Do not curse, Sparrow.”
Wiz turned and saw Moira had come back into the hall.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, just a little homesick.”
“I am sorry, Sparrow. I, too, wish to go home.”
“At least you can get there from here,” he said sullenly.
Moira compressed her lips. “Not while the Mighty bid me here to watch over you.”
“You don’t do much watching. The only time I see you is at meals.”
“Oh? Do you feel the need for a nursemaid, Sparrow?”
“I’m in love with you. I want to be close to you. Is that so hard to understand?”
Moira dropped her eyes. “That was none of my doing.”
“All right, you don’t love me,” Wiz said bitterly. “Then take this damn spell off me!”
“Do not use language like that.” Moira said sharply.
“Sorry,” Wiz snapped, “but that’s what it is.”
The red-headed witch sighed. “Sparrow, if I had my way you never would have been bound to me in the first place. If it were in my power to remove the spell I would do so in an instant. But I cannot.
“I did not put the spell on you, Patrius did. It is not an infatuation spell I know and I do not have the faintest idea how to release you. Bal-Simba or one of the other Mighty could perhaps remove it. When Bal-Simba comes here I will ask him to take the spell off. More, I will beg him to take it off.”
She softened. “I am sorry, Sparrow, but that is the best that I can do.”
“Great,” Wiz said. “In the meantime I’ve got a case of terminal puppy love combined with the moby hots for you. I’ve got to live under the same roof with you and have nothing to do with you. Da . . . darnit, before this happened you weren’t even my type! I like willowy brunettes.”