Read Online The Wizard's Dilemma, New Millennium Edition by Diane Duane - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Duane
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him.
“You better believe it,” Kit said, and they started to walk back down the street.
“I’m hungry!”
“We’ll see about something for you when we get in.”
“Dog biscuits!” Ponch barked, and raced down the street.
Kit went after him. When he came in the back door, his father was just taking the spaghetti pot over to the sink to drain it. “Perfect timing,” he said.
Kit looked in astonishment at the beat-up kitchen wall clock. It was only fifteen minutes since he’d left.
His father looked at him strangely. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Kit shook his head. “Uh … I’m okay. I’ll explain later. Leave mine in the pot for me for a few minutes, will you, Pop?” He grabbed the kitchen cordless phone out of its socket and headed into the living room.
That was when the shakes hit him. Kit just sat there and let it happen—not that he had much choice—and meanwhile enjoyed the wonderful normality of the living room: the slightly tacky lamps his mother refused to get rid of, the fact that the rug needed to be vacuumed. At least there was a rug, and a floor it was nailed to—not that terrifying empty nothingness under his feet. Finally Kit composed himself enough to look down at the phone handset and hit one of the speed-dial numbers.
After a few rings someone picked up. A voice said, “Tom Swale.”
“Tom, it’s Kit.”
“Hey there, fella, long time no hear. What’s up?”
“Tom—” Kit paused, not exactly sure how to start this. “I need to ask you something about your dogs.”
“Oh no,” Tom said, sounding concerned. “What have they done now?”
“Nothing,” Kit said. “And I want to know how they do it.”
There was a pause. “Can we start this conversation again?” Tom said. “Because you lost me somewhere. Like at the beginning.”
“Uh, right. Annie and Monty—”
“You’re saying they didn’t do anything?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Okay. This conversation now makes sense to Sherlock Holmes, if no one else. Keep working on me, though.”
Kit laughed. “Okay. Tom, your dogs are always turning up in your backyard with… you know. Weird things.”
“Including you, once, as I recall.”
“Hey, don’t get cute.”
Kit was then immediately mortified by the tone he’d taken with his Senior wizard, a genuinely nice man who had a lot to do in both his jobs and really didn’t need to be sassed. But Tom just burst out laughing. “Okay, I deserved that. Are you asking me how they do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s my reluctant duty to tell you that I’m not sure. Wizards’ pets tend to get strange. You know that.”
“But do they always?”
“Well, except for our macaw—who was strange to start with and who then turned out to be one of the Powers That Be in a bird suit—yes, mostly they do.”
“Are there any theories about why?”
“Loads. The most popular one is that wizards bend the shape of certain aspects of space-time awry around them, so that we’re sort of the local equivalent of gravity lenses… and creatures associated with us for long periods tend to acquire some wizardly qualities themselves. Is this helping you?”
There was a lot of barking going on in the background. “I think so.”
“Good, because as you can probably hear, the non-weird part of our local canines’ lifestyle has kicked in with a vengeance, and they say they want their dinners. But they can wait a few minutes. As far as wizards’ dogs are concerned, the development of ‘finding’ behaviors seems to be relatively common. It may be an outgrowth of the retrieving or herding behaviors that some dogs have had bred into them. Does Ponch have any Labrador in him?”
“Uh, there might be some in there.” This had been a topic of idle discussion around Kit’s house for a long time, his father mostly referring to Ponch, when the subject came up, as “the Grab Bag.” “But he’s mostly Border collie. Some German
“You better believe it,” Kit said, and they started to walk back down the street.
“I’m hungry!”
“We’ll see about something for you when we get in.”
“Dog biscuits!” Ponch barked, and raced down the street.
Kit went after him. When he came in the back door, his father was just taking the spaghetti pot over to the sink to drain it. “Perfect timing,” he said.
Kit looked in astonishment at the beat-up kitchen wall clock. It was only fifteen minutes since he’d left.
His father looked at him strangely. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Kit shook his head. “Uh … I’m okay. I’ll explain later. Leave mine in the pot for me for a few minutes, will you, Pop?” He grabbed the kitchen cordless phone out of its socket and headed into the living room.
That was when the shakes hit him. Kit just sat there and let it happen—not that he had much choice—and meanwhile enjoyed the wonderful normality of the living room: the slightly tacky lamps his mother refused to get rid of, the fact that the rug needed to be vacuumed. At least there was a rug, and a floor it was nailed to—not that terrifying empty nothingness under his feet. Finally Kit composed himself enough to look down at the phone handset and hit one of the speed-dial numbers.
After a few rings someone picked up. A voice said, “Tom Swale.”
“Tom, it’s Kit.”
“Hey there, fella, long time no hear. What’s up?”
“Tom—” Kit paused, not exactly sure how to start this. “I need to ask you something about your dogs.”
“Oh no,” Tom said, sounding concerned. “What have they done now?”
“Nothing,” Kit said. “And I want to know how they do it.”
There was a pause. “Can we start this conversation again?” Tom said. “Because you lost me somewhere. Like at the beginning.”
“Uh, right. Annie and Monty—”
“You’re saying they didn’t do anything?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Okay. This conversation now makes sense to Sherlock Holmes, if no one else. Keep working on me, though.”
Kit laughed. “Okay. Tom, your dogs are always turning up in your backyard with… you know. Weird things.”
“Including you, once, as I recall.”
“Hey, don’t get cute.”
Kit was then immediately mortified by the tone he’d taken with his Senior wizard, a genuinely nice man who had a lot to do in both his jobs and really didn’t need to be sassed. But Tom just burst out laughing. “Okay, I deserved that. Are you asking me how they do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s my reluctant duty to tell you that I’m not sure. Wizards’ pets tend to get strange. You know that.”
“But do they always?”
“Well, except for our macaw—who was strange to start with and who then turned out to be one of the Powers That Be in a bird suit—yes, mostly they do.”
“Are there any theories about why?”
“Loads. The most popular one is that wizards bend the shape of certain aspects of space-time awry around them, so that we’re sort of the local equivalent of gravity lenses… and creatures associated with us for long periods tend to acquire some wizardly qualities themselves. Is this helping you?”
There was a lot of barking going on in the background. “I think so.”
“Good, because as you can probably hear, the non-weird part of our local canines’ lifestyle has kicked in with a vengeance, and they say they want their dinners. But they can wait a few minutes. As far as wizards’ dogs are concerned, the development of ‘finding’ behaviors seems to be relatively common. It may be an outgrowth of the retrieving or herding behaviors that some dogs have had bred into them. Does Ponch have any Labrador in him?”
“Uh, there might be some in there.” This had been a topic of idle discussion around Kit’s house for a long time, his father mostly referring to Ponch, when the subject came up, as “the Grab Bag.” “But he’s mostly Border collie. Some German
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