The Wizardry Consulted (Wiz, #4)(55)

The demon crouched on the edge of the table and grinned at them. It had an unusually large grin that showed off its pearly white and pointy teeth to excellent advantage. All three rows of them.

The guards shifted back and forth but made no move toward the grinning entity crouched on the table.

“I dunno,” the first one demurred.

“Law says we’re only supposed to arrest people,” the second one said.

“Don’t say nothing about things like that.”

“You can arrest strayed livestock,” the sheriff retorted. “Well, impound them anyway.” He gestured at the demon again. “Impound that thing.”

“Don’t know that it’s rightly livestock,” the first guard said.

“Don’t think it’s strayed either,” his companion added.

“It’s right where it’s supposed to be,” Wiz added helpfully.

“Well, then,” said the second guard.

The sheriff was nearly beside himself with fury. “This is an outrage! A complete outrage against the majesty of the law.” He was bouncing up and down and his face was so red Wiz was afraid he was going to have a stroke. He decided it was time to pour some oil on the water.

“Look sheriff, you can see there’s nothing on that desk but papers. No stolen property, right? Now I’m sorry the demon hurt you, but I’m sure he won’t do it again. Why don’t you and your men go down into the kitchen and Anna will see to your wound.”

“But, but, but . . .”

“It looks nasty, sheriff. The only cure for a demon byte is to have it flushed by a beautiful woman. I’m sure she can find some ale for you and your men while she tends to it.”

The sheriff glared at the demon, who glared back. He glared at Wiz, who smiled. Then he glared at his two subordinates. Without a word he turned and stalked out of the room with the guards close on his heels.

Wiz collapsed against the wall and let his breath out in a great whoosh.

“Don’t know what you’re so worried about,” Widder Hackett’s voice rasped in his ear. “Malkin had the stuff out of the house before they got in the door.”

“What’d she do with it?”

“Buried it in the garden.”

“The garden?” Wiz yelped. “Didn’t you hear them say they were going to dig up the garden?”

“I didn’t say our garden,” the Widder Hackett said gleefully. “Old Trescott’s garden next door.” She cackled so hard she went into a coughing fit. “Oh, I’d love to see the look on Mrs. High-and-Mighty’s face if they was to dig up the loot under her cherry tree. Say, why don’t you . . .”

“Uh, let’s save that for an emergency, shall we?” Wiz said hastily.





Eighteen: Presentation


Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Clarke’s Law



Any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology.

Anderson’s Reformulation of Clarke’s Law



Any sufficiently advanced anything is indistinguishable from utter nonsense.

Digby’s Generalization of Clarke’s Law



Especially if it is sufficiently advanced nonsense to begin with.

Zumwalt’s Corollary to Digby’s Generalization of Clarke’s Law



The council kept Wiz and Malkin waiting for over an hour. While Wiz fidgeted in a too-hard chair in the hall and Malkin ostentatiously checked the place for escape routes, the councilors met behind closed doors. Every so often the sound of shouting or an especially ringing bit of oratory would penetrate through the thick carved doors. Wiz fiddled with his notes and tried not to think about the corners he had to cut.

Some of the pieces, such as the buzzword generator, were beautiful. But other details he had been forced to leave to demons because of the time he lost to the sheriff and his searchers.

True to his word, the sheriff had spent most of the rest of the day digging up the garden. Or, more correctly, the sheriff lounged under a tree while his men dug holes more or less at random in the garden. They didn’t find anything but they didn’t quit until nearly sundown. Wiz was on pins and needles all day, afraid there was something Malkin had overlooked. But in her own way Malkin was as thoroughly professional as Wiz. There was nothing and the sheriff left empty-handed.

At last the doors swung open and the usher beckoned them within. The expression on the man’s face did nothing for Wiz’s confidence.

The council was seated around a long U-shaped table. Their mood was a cross between a lynch mob and the crowd at a formal execution. Which is to say some of them were looking forward to what they were going to do, some of them would reluctantly do their duty and some of them were there for the show.

Wiz started talking before he even reached the center of the U. “Gentlemen, I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to come before you today,” he said as he strode into the room. His confidence was of a piece with his sincerity, but so far they seemed to be buying it.

He gestured grandly and the daylight streaming in through the windows dimmed to twilight. Another gesture and a demon appeared at the back of the room with a slide projector. The projector was already on and a slide flashed on the wall bearing the words “Success And Prosperity” in vivid red and yellow on a bright blue background-a combination carefully chosen to be arresting without quite giving the viewers a headache. There was a brief murmur from the council and Wiz charged on before they could recover.