Half the Day Is Night by Maureen F. McHugh

Author:Maureen F. McHugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

10

The Sorcerer’s Birthday

Marincite went in circles, everything spiraling down into old mining holes.

Paul was the admin assistant assigned to Mayla at Marincite Corp. He was a dark, small, neat young man. When she stepped off the sub from Julia on Monday morning, he was there, waiting in his dark red suit, holding a white wax paper bag with his breakfast of beignets. When he found out that she liked them, he started buying two for her on Monday mornings. Instead of “good morning,” Paul always said, “And the night?”

“Not bad,” she always said, feeling a little silly. Tourists thought everyone in Caribe talked that way, because that was the way they talked in vids like Horsemen. Tourists thought everybody in Caribe followed voudoun.

Paul fell into step beside her and La Merci dropped back a discreet two meters. “You remind me of my sister,” Paul said.

“How so?” she asked.

“Because you are tall and you walk like a man.”

She laughed and he shrugged, smiling a little. She didn’t know what to say, not so much because of Paul as because of the listening ears. La Merci never gave any sign she was eavesdropping, neither did Joe or Hermione. And yet, Mayla could imagine any one of them reacting, reacting like a snake strike, all the feigned indifference gone in an instant. Not like Tim who would be caught open-mouthed when the gunman struck. Guns out, instantly dangerous, La Merci catlike—

Maybe she would move here. Maybe it would be safer than Julia.

Real life was not the vid. The truth was she didn’t know what would happen. And other than the vid images, her mind refused to imagine.

They walked into an ad. It was The Sorcerer’s Birthday, there were signs all over proclaiming it, broad painted words on what looked like sheets. A man in a dusty top hat and maroon tails stood on the sidewalk with his back to them and a goat stood beside him on the street rolling its golden eyes. He half turned, neat and quick, as if she had interrupted him. His look was unknowable. And then she stepped out of the ad.

She decided she liked the ad, even though she didn’t know what The Sorcerer’s Birthday was.

Paul stopped at the newstand and she dug into her bag and handed him money for a Wall Street Journal and two coffees. He looked at the front page for a moment, then folded the paper under his arm.

“My sister is a powerful woman,” he said.

“What does she do?” Mayla asked.

He thought a moment. “She gives advice,” he said, with a note of finality.

Mayla wondered if he couldn’t think of a way to describe what she did or if the words were for Marin Security. Although it was difficult to imagine Paul’s sister doing something illegal. “Is your sister married or does she work?”

“She is married,” Paul said. “Maybe you can come and have dinner and meet my sister.”

She said that sounded nice. Nothing would come of it, but it was sweet of him to ask.

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