The Late Great Wizard by Sara Hanover

Author:Sara Hanover
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2018-09-11T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I STOPPED AGAIN on the sidewalk. I couldn’t leave Morty behind, not if there was a single chance he could still be alive. The harpies burst out of the tobacco shop with squawks and curses of fury, four of them hauling the queenly one between them, and crimson rained down from her body as they took to the air with a struggle, bedraggled sisters following after. Steptoe jumped and shook his fist at them, mostly in bluff I think, just in case one or two decided to hang back for bit of revenge. They dipped and flew in ragged formation, barely clearing the streetlights. None turned back and he danced a jig step in victory. I dodged the crimson drops after hearing the sidewalk sizzle as blood hit it.

I heard no cries of surprise or fear; although New Yorkers have seen a lot, I felt they must have surely not seen what just flew over them and off into the sky. Brian groaned and shuddered in my hold, the cane slithering out of his belt and clattering to the ground. I darted after it, but it seemed in one piece, even the dark crystal, as I gathered it up. He couldn’t hold it, so I wrapped my hand more firmly in his shirt sleeve to keep a grip on him, curled my fingers tightly about the cane—gone light and nearly insubstantial again, unfortunately—and turned to say a final good-bye to Morty. Afraid to, but having to, I peered through the grimy window of the shop. The place looked as if tossed, but only mildly considering it had hosted a battle to the death. I searched without seeing him and then my gaze dropped to where Morty fell.

No body rested there. Instead, a massive heap of glittering stone, dust and ashes, gems and metal flakes. My jaw dropped. Steptoe saw where I looked and said, “Sorry, ducks, that’s what happens sometimes,” and he kicked the shop door open. Why, I could not understand.

A wind arose. Sharp and cold. Out of the nearly cloudless and bright warm sky, a stiff breeze swirled up and into the shop, spiraling round and round about the remains of the Iron Dwarf that bore no resemblance to the man I called friend. It filled, this metal and gem cyclone, it filled and swelled with all of his being. I’d had no chance to find out what he knew of my father, if anything. Nor would I see him grin when we brought his wife back to him. And I wouldn’t have him about to tell me about the nature of the stone, brick and mortar, rebar and steel of the buildings that surrounded us. Gone, all gone. It left a very big hole.

The dervish or miniature tornado or whatever you might call it paused as it poured through the doorway. I looked into it, its beauty and its harshness and, for the briefest of moments, I could see a transparent Morty looking back at me. He waited until I realized it, and then inclined his head in a nod.

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