dollars back in the other world. There was a library, racks of deep pigeonholes to hold scrolls, shelves to hold books. Ah, the books. Pregel had medieval romances, modern sciences, an almost complete set of Louis L’Amour’s westerns. He had Hitler and Machiavelli, Gibran and Nietzsche. A twelfth-century Bible copied in a Norman monastery was on a stand like those that libraries use to hold their unabridged dictionaries. There were also other religious books, copies dating from the Middle Ages or before, Koran, Talmud, Zend Avesta, and others. It didn’t matter what language a book was written in, not in the buffer zone with its translation magic.
I opened the drawers in two wooden file cabinets, one at a time, wondering what exotic documents of state I might find. There were a few deeds and charters, a few letters, but five of the eight drawers were given over to magazines. I thumbed through the drawers. It looked as if Pregel had complete sets of Penthouse and Playboy , from their premiere issues up to about four years ago.
I chuckled when I shut the last drawer.
“It looks like I really didn’t know you at all,” I mumbled. I sat in the chair behind the big desk, reached out and stroked the smooth, worn desktop. The desk drawers were filled with working supplies, paper and pens, and the usual odds and ends that get chucked into drawers and forgotten.
There was a second exit from the study, leading directly out to the corridor, a way to bypass going through the bedroom all the time. Across the corridor was the king’s private dining room, for those times when he wanted to avoid presiding over a meal in the great hall, or for private mealtime discussions. Back stairs led down to the kitchens, and to Baron Kardeen’s office. Even after three and a half years I didn’t know where all the secret passages were, though I had found a few of them.
I wasn’t expecting the knock on the hall door. I jumped, then said, “Come in.” I guessed that it would be Baron Kardeen. I was wrong. It was Aaron.
“I wasn’t sure if I should disturb you or not,” he said.
“Come on in and have a seat,” I told him. “You’re not interrupting anything but my brooding, and that needs interruption.” He came over and sat in the chair at the side of the desk. So far, Aaron had shown none of the irritating “Your Majesty” routine, and that was a relief.
“You know, I’m going to need time to get used to that souvenir of our elf that you carry.”
Aaron touched the streak of white skin on the left side of his face. “Ah, that. It is more than skin deep. At odd moments, I think I have a little of him inside my head too.”
“Enough to find out what I have to do with these spare balls?”
“No. That’s the first thing I tried to find out. But Parthet is putting together some sort of special incantation. Something new, something not in any of the books and scrolls he taught me from. That’s why I came looking for you. He says that he’s going to need you present to run the spell.”
“And if that doesn’t work, we’re back to calling up the Elflord of Xayber and asking for his help,” I said.
“It may not be necessary. Despite all the doom talk, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly rotten happening at the moment,” Aaron said. “Maybe what you’ve done already is enough, despite what Wellivazey said.”
“I don’t believe it,” I said.
Aaron shrugged. “Parthet is trying hard to make himself believe it. He keeps talking about that Golden Age jazz.”
We sat and looked at each other for a bit.
“When is he going to be ready to try this new magic?” I asked.
“A day or two, he says. He’s working now, has been, just about straight through. He’s even having his food brought to the workroom so he can keep going without interruptions.”
“That doesn’t sound like he’s had much luck convincing himself that the danger is past,” I said. Aaron shrugged again. “A day or two?” I
I opened the drawers in two wooden file cabinets, one at a time, wondering what exotic documents of state I might find. There were a few deeds and charters, a few letters, but five of the eight drawers were given over to magazines. I thumbed through the drawers. It looked as if Pregel had complete sets of Penthouse and Playboy , from their premiere issues up to about four years ago.
I chuckled when I shut the last drawer.
“It looks like I really didn’t know you at all,” I mumbled. I sat in the chair behind the big desk, reached out and stroked the smooth, worn desktop. The desk drawers were filled with working supplies, paper and pens, and the usual odds and ends that get chucked into drawers and forgotten.
There was a second exit from the study, leading directly out to the corridor, a way to bypass going through the bedroom all the time. Across the corridor was the king’s private dining room, for those times when he wanted to avoid presiding over a meal in the great hall, or for private mealtime discussions. Back stairs led down to the kitchens, and to Baron Kardeen’s office. Even after three and a half years I didn’t know where all the secret passages were, though I had found a few of them.
I wasn’t expecting the knock on the hall door. I jumped, then said, “Come in.” I guessed that it would be Baron Kardeen. I was wrong. It was Aaron.
“I wasn’t sure if I should disturb you or not,” he said.
“Come on in and have a seat,” I told him. “You’re not interrupting anything but my brooding, and that needs interruption.” He came over and sat in the chair at the side of the desk. So far, Aaron had shown none of the irritating “Your Majesty” routine, and that was a relief.
“You know, I’m going to need time to get used to that souvenir of our elf that you carry.”
Aaron touched the streak of white skin on the left side of his face. “Ah, that. It is more than skin deep. At odd moments, I think I have a little of him inside my head too.”
“Enough to find out what I have to do with these spare balls?”
“No. That’s the first thing I tried to find out. But Parthet is putting together some sort of special incantation. Something new, something not in any of the books and scrolls he taught me from. That’s why I came looking for you. He says that he’s going to need you present to run the spell.”
“And if that doesn’t work, we’re back to calling up the Elflord of Xayber and asking for his help,” I said.
“It may not be necessary. Despite all the doom talk, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly rotten happening at the moment,” Aaron said. “Maybe what you’ve done already is enough, despite what Wellivazey said.”
“I don’t believe it,” I said.
Aaron shrugged. “Parthet is trying hard to make himself believe it. He keeps talking about that Golden Age jazz.”
We sat and looked at each other for a bit.
“When is he going to be ready to try this new magic?” I asked.
“A day or two, he says. He’s working now, has been, just about straight through. He’s even having his food brought to the workroom so he can keep going without interruptions.”
“That doesn’t sound like he’s had much luck convincing himself that the danger is past,” I said. Aaron shrugged again. “A day or two?” I
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