The Archimage's Fourth Daughter by Lyndon Hardy

Author:Lyndon Hardy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Magic, Quest, Sorcery, Wizard, Adventure, Alchemy, Science Fiction
Publisher: Lyndon Hardy
Published: 2017-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

Imp in a Haystack

FIG STOOD on the sidewalk outside of the terminal at LAX. He glanced at his reflection in the large glass window behind but saw no dance of lights over his head. The little imps, one third of the total, had assured him that, despite the travel, they would still be with him.

They had better. Like his first visit for the interview at USX, the view of the landscape when landing was bewildering — like a carpet of fireflies anchored to the ground and stretching as far as one could see. Los Angeles was a big place. Southern California even bigger. He had drained his savings for the airfare and had little money left for transportation.

Fig took the downconverter out of his carry-on and slipped it on his belt. Getting the device through the security check was something he did not relish having to do again. He slipped on the microphone headset and put the bud in his ear.

“You told me word gets around,” he said softly. “Why can’t you take me directly to this female wizard?”

“Doesn’t have to be a wizard,” squeaked in his ear. “Matchmites have very little brain. They are easily controlled.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Fig let the irritation from the long trip from Geneva find some relief in the tone of his voice. “Where is she? I need to find how much it will cost to get to her.”

“We have no idea. There has been no contact for several months. The mites probably are being kept in a jar.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before we left?”

“You didn’t ask. This is still a challenge, remember.”

Fig’s irritation grew. Dealing with little points of light with minds all their own was not easy.

He pulled out his phone and entered a query. “Let’s see… Here it is. The area of Los Angeles County alone is — why it is almost five thousand square miles! How can we possibly search all of that?”

“Easy enough. That is only half a square mile for each of us. It will be a snap.”

“What? Looking for a jar that may be hidden away? How long will that take?”

“A year for each of us. Maybe a year and a half at most.”

Fig stepped back from the curb. He did not want to climb into a taxi yet. He was a physicist, after all, he told himself. There had to be a better way than a blanket search.

“These matchmites,” he said. “What do they look like? Are they points of light like yourself?”

“No. Not at all. They are quite large. Compared to our svelte selves, lumbering giants. As large as what you call a fruit fly. We can spot easily such a creature twenty of your human paces away.”

“Don’t they glow like you do? Couldn’t you detect them farther — ”

“No. Not at all. Uninteresting gray. And now that we think about it, there are certain backgrounds in which they would easily blend.”

Fig adjusted the microphone slightly on his headset. “Their voices then. Perhaps you can listen for them instead.

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