Read Online The Wizard's Dilemma, New Millennium Edition by Diane Duane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diane Duane
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faint hissing noise coming from inside. He knocked on the door.
“Come in!” his sister shouted.
Slightly surprised, Kit stuck his head in the door. His sister was lying on her bed, on her stomach, and the source of the hissing was the earphones she was wearing. On the screen, it looked as if a young boy in a down vest and baseball cap was being electrocuted by a long-tailed yellow teddy bear. “Oh,” Kit said, now understanding why Carmela had shouted.
“What?” His sister pulled one of the earphones out.
“Nothing,” Kit said. “I heard something going ‘sssssssss’ in here. Thought maybe it was your brains escaping.”
His sister rolled her eyes.
“Isn’t that stuff a little below your age group?” Kit said.
Carmela rolled her eyes and ostentatiously put the earphone back in. “Not when you’re using it to learn Japanese. Now go away.”
Kit grinned and (mostly for his own amusement) closed her door and did as he’d been told. Carmela was no more of a nuisance to Kit than she had to be at her age. She had even taken his wizardry pretty calmly, for an otherwise excitable fifteen-year-old, when Kit had told the family about it. After the shock wore off, “I always knew you were weird!” had been Carmela’s main response. Still, Kit kept an eye on her, and always put his manual away where she wouldn’t find it; the thought of her turning into an older version of Dairine terrified him. Still, wizardry finds its way. If it’s gonna happen, there’s no way I can stop it.
His older sister, Helena, seemed safe from this fate, being too old for even very late-onset wizardry. She had just left for her first year of college at Amherst, apparently relieved to get out of what she described as “a genuine madhouse.” Kit loved her dearly but was also slightly (and guiltily) relieved to be seeing less of her, for she was the only member of the family who seemed to be trying to pretend that Kit’s wizardry had never really happened. Maybe she’ll sort it out over the next year or so.
Meantime, I’ve got other problems….
He pushed his door open and looked around at his room. It was a welter of bookshelves; the usual messy bed; a worktable, where he made models; the desk, where the monitor and keyboard for his pitifully ancient desktop computer sat; and some rock posters, including one from a hilariously overcostumed and overmade-up metal group — a present from Helena when she cleared out her room: “a souvenir,” she’d said, “of a journey into the hopelessly retro.”
Kit tossed his jacket onto the bed and plopped down into the desk chair, where he put out his hand and whistled for his manual. It dropped into his hand from the little pouch of otherspace where he kept it. Kit pushed the PC’s keyboard to one side and opened the manual.
First he turned to the back page, the messaging area. There was nothing there, but he’d known there wouldn’t be; he hadn’t felt the “fizz” of notification when he picked up the manual. Then Kit paged backward to the active wizards’ listing for the New York area. Yes, there it was, between CAILLEBERT, ARMINA, and CALLANIN, EOIN:
CALLAHAN, Juanita L.
243 E. Clinton Avenue
Hempstead, NY 11575
(516) 555-6786
power rating: 6.08 +/-.5
status: conditional active independent assignment / research: subject classification withheld
period: indeterminate
Apparently the Powers had something planned for her … or were maybe just cutting her some slack. Sounds like she can use it, too, Kit thought, feeling brief irritation again at the memory of the afternoon. Well, okay.
He paused and then flipped back to a spot a few pages after Nita’s listing, running his finger down one column. There it was: RODRIGUEZ, CHRISTOPHER R. Address, phone number, power rating, status, last assignment, blah, blah, blah…. But there was something else after his listing.
Notes: adjunct talent in training
Kit sat back. Now what the heck does that mean?
He heard thumping
“Come in!” his sister shouted.
Slightly surprised, Kit stuck his head in the door. His sister was lying on her bed, on her stomach, and the source of the hissing was the earphones she was wearing. On the screen, it looked as if a young boy in a down vest and baseball cap was being electrocuted by a long-tailed yellow teddy bear. “Oh,” Kit said, now understanding why Carmela had shouted.
“What?” His sister pulled one of the earphones out.
“Nothing,” Kit said. “I heard something going ‘sssssssss’ in here. Thought maybe it was your brains escaping.”
His sister rolled her eyes.
“Isn’t that stuff a little below your age group?” Kit said.
Carmela rolled her eyes and ostentatiously put the earphone back in. “Not when you’re using it to learn Japanese. Now go away.”
Kit grinned and (mostly for his own amusement) closed her door and did as he’d been told. Carmela was no more of a nuisance to Kit than she had to be at her age. She had even taken his wizardry pretty calmly, for an otherwise excitable fifteen-year-old, when Kit had told the family about it. After the shock wore off, “I always knew you were weird!” had been Carmela’s main response. Still, Kit kept an eye on her, and always put his manual away where she wouldn’t find it; the thought of her turning into an older version of Dairine terrified him. Still, wizardry finds its way. If it’s gonna happen, there’s no way I can stop it.
His older sister, Helena, seemed safe from this fate, being too old for even very late-onset wizardry. She had just left for her first year of college at Amherst, apparently relieved to get out of what she described as “a genuine madhouse.” Kit loved her dearly but was also slightly (and guiltily) relieved to be seeing less of her, for she was the only member of the family who seemed to be trying to pretend that Kit’s wizardry had never really happened. Maybe she’ll sort it out over the next year or so.
Meantime, I’ve got other problems….
He pushed his door open and looked around at his room. It was a welter of bookshelves; the usual messy bed; a worktable, where he made models; the desk, where the monitor and keyboard for his pitifully ancient desktop computer sat; and some rock posters, including one from a hilariously overcostumed and overmade-up metal group — a present from Helena when she cleared out her room: “a souvenir,” she’d said, “of a journey into the hopelessly retro.”
Kit tossed his jacket onto the bed and plopped down into the desk chair, where he put out his hand and whistled for his manual. It dropped into his hand from the little pouch of otherspace where he kept it. Kit pushed the PC’s keyboard to one side and opened the manual.
First he turned to the back page, the messaging area. There was nothing there, but he’d known there wouldn’t be; he hadn’t felt the “fizz” of notification when he picked up the manual. Then Kit paged backward to the active wizards’ listing for the New York area. Yes, there it was, between CAILLEBERT, ARMINA, and CALLANIN, EOIN:
CALLAHAN, Juanita L.
243 E. Clinton Avenue
Hempstead, NY 11575
(516) 555-6786
power rating: 6.08 +/-.5
status: conditional active independent assignment / research: subject classification withheld
period: indeterminate
Apparently the Powers had something planned for her … or were maybe just cutting her some slack. Sounds like she can use it, too, Kit thought, feeling brief irritation again at the memory of the afternoon. Well, okay.
He paused and then flipped back to a spot a few pages after Nita’s listing, running his finger down one column. There it was: RODRIGUEZ, CHRISTOPHER R. Address, phone number, power rating, status, last assignment, blah, blah, blah…. But there was something else after his listing.
Notes: adjunct talent in training
Kit sat back. Now what the heck does that mean?
He heard thumping
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