14
Canberra: The Post-Semis Mixer
THERE WAS A MIXER that night in one of the bigger function rooms of the convention center, and it spilled out onto yet another of the terraces facing the lake. At least a few hundred people were there: wizards and their guests, people who’d fallen out of the first round but were continuing to follow the event, or others who were attending for the first time because things were getting more exciting.
Possibly the most relaxed people were the forty or so contestants who headed the deselected in this stage. Bigger and slightly more ornate deselection tokens had been handed out—they glowed silver—and some discreet trading was going on. Some of it was less discreet: Nita could see that the poker group had once again convened over in one of the corners, and a pile of blue- and green-glowing tokens from the previous round now had some sparks of silver in it.
Not quite so relaxed, of course, were the five finalists. Nita stood there shaking her head once more in amazement that Penn had managed to make it through. It was hard to reconcile the trembling, freaked-out guy she had nearly had to shove into the judging room with the judges’ brief assessment, published at the end of the round, of “a promising and generally well-constructed wizardry presented with some style and élan by a forthright and well-spoken contestant.” They must have really seen something there, though, Nita thought. I guess all that work that Kit and Dair and I did has paid off. But after this, it’s all up to him. And the spell . . .
Penn had recovered enough to be laughing and joking and showboating around the room the way he had on the night of the first round, swanning out onto the dance floor to bump and grind and boogie with anyone who would hold still long enough to let him get close. Nita noticed with some amusement that he was doing a lot better at finding dance partners as a finalist than he had as a survivor of the first round. Well, maybe that’ll keep him out of trouble for a while.
As for Mehrnaz, maybe she preferred not to dance, and as Nita looked around, she didn’t see her at all. Two of the three other finalists were standing by one of the food and drink tables, deep in conversation. Wonder if we’ve got a little something else besides competition going on there, Nita thought. One of the pair, a handsome, dark, broad-featured Finnish guy whose first name was Joona and whose second name had so many vowels that Nita had stopped trying to say it after the fourth or fifth attempt, was laughing as he drank some kind of near-beer, and was gazing out at the room as if he still couldn’t quite believe what had happened to him. The other one, a tall, willowy Indonesian girl named Susila Pertiwi, was drinking coconut water on the rocks and talking quietly to Joona between fits of laughter. This intrigued Nita, as both their projects had been highly involved and detailed—Susila’s having to do with microgravity management framed as a technology that conventional scientists would be able to “stumble across” in decades to come, and Joona’s involving the rerouting of cold water currents in the Atlantic to rejuvenate the Gulf Stream and heal the somewhat damaged southern Atlantic “heat-pump engine” that maintained healthy ocean temperatures but had recently been suffering on account of climate change.
Right now, though, the two of them seemed mostly occupied with making eyes at each other. Nita thought it was very cute. She hoped the fifth finalist, an Iowan guy whose name she thought was Maxwell and whose project she couldn’t remember for the life of her, was having as good a time.
“Yeah,” said a familiar voice in her ear, “they’re a real pair of lovebirds, aren’t they?”
Nita snickered at Carmela’s whisper. “Wondered when you’d get here,” she said. “I thought you’d decided to take another shopping day.”
“Woman does not live by shopping alone,” Carmela said. “Sometimes the excitement is elsewhere.”
The first sentiment struck Nita as ridiculous coming from Carmela, and she was opening her mouth to say so when she saw a slim, tall, dark-haired figure in black jeans and black T-shirt weaving through the crowd toward them with a dark drink in one hand. “Aha,” Nita said. “Might’ve known.”
“And what are you two plotting and planning?” Ronan said as he eased up to them, walking carefully to spare his pint of Guinness.
“The fall of empires, the destruction of civilization as we know it, the usual,” Nita said. “When did you get in?”
“Oh, just now. I was about to go to bed when suddenly the idea came to me, ‘Why don’t I transit halfway around the planet and completely screw up my internal scheduling for no particular reason?’” He took a solicitous slurp through the head of his pint and paused to wipe away the mustache.
“Well, I don’t care about the reasons. It’s nice you could make it.”
“And why wouldn’t I come? Seeing as somehow both you and Kit have managed to come out winners in this thing.”
Nita shook her head. “We’re not winners yet . . .” She swallowed. It was silly to think about things like jinxes; they didn’t exist. Still, she didn’t want to talk about the possibilities too much just yet.
“All the same,” Ronan said. “Thought I’d see you guys before the real stress begins.”
“And speaking of stress, what have you done to your head?” For Ronan had developed a bold silver-white streak springing from his part in the front.
“Took all the white hairs this one’s giving me and put them in one place,” Ronan said, flicking his gaze toward Carmela.
“I’m missing something,” Nita said.
“He’s going in with me on a trading venture,” said Carmela.
Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Nita. “Chocolate.”
“Oh God,” Nita said. Chocolate was unique to Earth, and fulfilled numerous roles among a multitude of alien species: currency, drug, priceless collectible, aphrodisiac . . . The sudden image of Ronan and Carmela as some kind of Han Solo and Princess Leia, transiting stealthily from one star system to another with cargoes of contraband cocoa, suddenly sank itself into her brain. “Maybe,” Nita said, “the less I know about this the better. Listen, have you seen Dairine?”
Carmela pointed over her shoulder to another table at the far end of the room. “She was after an iced coffee or something.”
“Okay. You going to be here for a while?”
“Till closing time. I’m looking to add some partners.”
“I’ll catch you later, then.”
She headed over to where Dairine was pouring cream into a tall glass of coffee and ice. “Feeling the strain, Dair?”
Her sister sighed. “It’s either this or those energy drinks, and they all taste awful. You okay?”
Nita nodded. “Not too bad.”
Off to the side, someone in the circle of guys and girls in the nearest corner said in a broad Aussie accent, “Dealer’s choice. Five card stud . . .”
It was Matt. “I’m in.”
“James, you’re always in. A veritable rock of innocence in a suspicious world.”
“Stop buttering him up, Matt. I’m in too.”
“Sarah! Good woman, you. Lesser beings have refused to come back for another round after such punishment.”
A tall blond lady slipped into the circle and got herself comfortable. “Hey, wait for me, Matt!”
“Couldn’t possibly start without you, Emily, wouldn’t be the same without your lovely carping when I clean you out.”
A hand reached down into the circle from behind Emily and handed her a diet Coke. “You’re going to want this.”
“Thanks, Rivka . . .”
Nita smiled, turned away from what was sure to be another bloodbath. “Where’s Mehrnaz?”
“Taking some personal time. She’s had . . . an interesting day so far.” Dairine glanced around and noticed the group sitting in the corner for the first time. “Wait, what are they up to over there?”
Oh no. Nita was all too aware of where Dairine had been getting a significant portion of her pocket money since she was in about fourth grade. “Dair . . .”
“What? Why shouldn’t I s
it in?”
Nita could think of any number of reasons. “Dairine. They’re our cousins. Be merciful to them.”
Dairine cracked her knuckles. “No prisoners,” she said.
Oh God, Nita thought, glancing out the windows toward the lake as the dusk settled in, she’s going to own them all by the time the night is out. “I’d still like to talk to Mehrnaz . . . there’s hardly been any time.”
“She’ll be around later. I’ll tell her you were asking.” And Dairine was off, heading toward the poker game.
Nita sighed and sauntered off with what was left of her smoothie, and made her way around the dance floor. Benches and conversation pits were built into the walls on the side, and on one of the benches she spotted Penn taking a breather.
She wandered over to him. “How’re you holding up?” Nita said. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. “Thanks. It’s just that . . .” He shook his head. “There are times when, I don’t know, crowds get to me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’d have thought that would’ve been more of a problem for you in the first round. That place was really crammed.”
“I think at first I was too buzzed. Later in the day, it did start to get to me, and I kind of pushed through it . . .”
“Maybe it’s cumulative.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He looked up at Nita. “Because somehow, this morning when I went in there, I started seeing all those eyes looking at me. It felt like they were going to see something. Maybe something I didn’t want them to know.”
“I’ve had that,” Nita admitted. “Especially with the really powerful wizards, the Senior ones . . . Sometimes you get this feeling that they can climb inside your head. Or that they’ve done it already.” She laughed. “Doesn’t help that in some cases, they can . . .”
“Well, anyway,” Penn said, “thanks. You were terrific this morning.”
She was touched. “Thank you” was not something anyone heard often from Penn. “You’re welcome.”
And he grinned at her. “Maybe even as terrific as me!”
Nita narrowed her eyes at him, but still managed to find this funny. “Knew it couldn’t last. There’s the Penn we know . . .”
Too late she realized the opening she’d left him. “—and loooove?”
“All done now, Penn,” she said, waved airily, and walked away.
She went off to get herself yet another smoothie—I’m going to be so healthy this week, once this is over and I dump all the stress—and ran into Matt on the way back through the crowd. It was so surprising to see him not in the poker game that she laughed. “Bathroom break?”
“I wish! Your sister, not to name any names, cleaned me out.”
Nita shook her head. “She’s not safe to be around, Matt,” she said. “Ask the Lone One.”
“Don’t need to! Doki warned me when he saw her getting dealt in.”
Nita laughed. As good a time as any to deal with this. “Matt, I feel like a real idiot.”
“Why? Unless it’s too much hanging around with Bonzo Boy there. That’d do it for sure.”
He was looking back across the room at Penn, who was out on the dance floor again. “Not that,” said Nita. “It’s . . . well . . . I didn’t even realize you had a boyfriend!”
Matt laughed at her. “Don’t see why it should’ve jumped out at you! Last time you saw me, I was kinda busy saving that long gonzer’s life.” He jerked his chin at Ronan, who was just sitting down in the poker game, while Dairine favored him with a pleased and predatory look. “And then I buggered straight off. Didn’t have time to say ‘Hi I’m here to fix the hole in your chest caused by a magic spear and by the way I’m gay!’” And he started laughing harder. “I should get a T-shirt. Save a ton of time.”
“This would be the part of the evening where I die of embarrassment,” Nita said.
“Absolutely no reason,” Matt said. “He’d like you. You should come chat when you have time. But right now I think you’re probably busy keeping an eye on Bonzo.”
“He’s on my mind,” Nita said.
“How much?” Matt said, giving her a thoughtful look.
“What?”
“Wouldn’t want to worry some people,” Matt said.
Nita blinked. “What?” she said again. “Wait. You mean—you mean Kit? Worry about Penn?” She laughed at Matt. “Not the slightest chance.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “Just checking.” And he patted her on the arm and headed off.
Nita stood there for a moment, confused, and then went off to look for Kit.
Dairine had no intention of staying in the poker game very long . . . only long enough to distract herself from the stress of the previous hours. Mehrnaz’s distress had hit her hard.
It’s funny, she thought as she went over to the nearest food and drink table, where she acquired another iced coffee and a chicken salad sandwich. There she is, with her family so wealthy that she has to think about whether she’s rich or not. And all the times at home when Dad’s been short of money, and I’d think, If we just had a lot of money, everything would be okay. Except that all of a sudden it’s obvious that you can have lots and lots of money, but if your family’s not on your side . . .
Dairine sat down and disposed of the sandwich in about two minutes. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. My meals have been all over the place the last couple weeks, she thought. And when this is over I may need to take a vacation from onion bhajis for a while.
“I think this is maybe the first time I’ve seen you sitting down since this started,” said a voice above her.
Dairine looked up to see Irina standing there looking down at her, wearing a long, casual sundress in a bright floral print, and the usual baby-sling. The yellow parakeet was sitting on her shoulder, gazing around with vague interest. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, everything has been kind of busy . . .”
“I just wanted to have a quick word with you about the Farrahi business earlier,” Irina said.
“She and her people are really not good to Mehrnaz, Irina,” Dairine said. “They’re putting her through all kinds of crap, and it’s not right.”
“They’re also, unfortunately, fairly influential in that part of the world,” Irina said. She let out a long, annoyed-sounding breath. “You need to understand that what happens at an Invitational can be seen as sanctioned by the supervisory structure . . . And if what happens is embarrassing to a wizard or group of wizards who have significant influence over others, that can in turn affect who works with whom on what interventions, or who’s willing to cooperate or volunteer when there’s a problem. It can make a difference, regrettably, to the way the world works.”
Dairine put her plate aside and stood up. “Irina, if you had to apologize to her about me,” she said, “then I’m sorry. But the way they’re treating Mehrnaz is terrible. Her family is screwed up and her home life is one giant head game. They’re kicking her around like, I don’t know, a football or something, and if it doesn’t stop they’re going to screw up somebody who could be a really powerful wizard, really useful. More useful than the whole bunch of them.” She scowled. “And that aunt . . . She is a complete waste of time.”
Irina stood quiet for a moment. “I remember seeing something in one of your personality précis about your tendency to speak truth to power,” she said. “It wasn’t exaggerated.” And Irina smiled. “Or the bit about your loyalty, once you’ve decided someone’s worthy of it. Those qualities are all very well. But if it turns out the situation warrants it, and I can’t calm things down, I may require you to apologize formally to Mehrnaz’s aunt.”
Dairine scowled at her. “If I have to,” she said, “I’ll do it. But at a price.”
Irina’s eyebrows went up. The parakeet stared at Dairine and made a scratchy little scolding noise.
“I want somebody to look into her situation,” Dairine said. “Somebody who’s got the power to do something about it. It?
??s not fair for her to have to suffer like this.”
That smile came back again. “Not the kind of price one might have expected,” Irina said. “ . . . But I think we can agree on that. Meantime, you can help me out by writing up a description of what instigated the exchange. Be thorough. Give me at least three sets of reasons for what you did, each one better than the last.”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” Dairine said.
“Have it to me tomorrow morning, then,” Irina said. And she nodded to Dairine, resettled the baby sling, and walked off.
Dairine swallowed as it hit her what she’d said and done just a few minutes earlier. And Nita thinks her temper’s something, Dairine thought. Maybe the stress is getting to me . . .
She went off with her iced coffee to tour slowly around the room, looking for Mehrnaz. She was getting a sense, now, that Mehrnaz liked to be on the edge of things where she could see what was going on and make the decision whether or not she wanted to be drawn in. Sure enough, after five minutes or so Dairine spotted her over by the room’s back wall, leaning against it with her hands cupped in front of her and looking vague.
Dairine headed over to her. “You okay?”
“Sure. Just making dua.”
“Making do with what?”
“No! Making dua,” Mehrnaz said, amused. “Talking to God.” She shrugged.
“Oh.”
Mehrnaz laughed at Dairine. “What? It’s not like you’re not always saying ‘oh God’ this and ‘oh God’ that!” She smiled. “It’s not a big deal, I know it’s just how you talk. But God likes it when you make time for conversation. Likes to be asked for things, told what you need, told what you’re thinking. I mean, isn’t that some of why we’re here? It’s not like Allah needs anything. He likes to hear from us, that’s all. Is that iced tea?”
“Oh, no, coffee. The ice kind of watered it down.”
“Tea, I really need some tea . . .”
“Then let’s go get you some. I just had a talk with Irina . . . best you know what happened.”
The evening went on. Kit had spent a while letting himself be drawn into new groups, chatting with people he hadn’t seen since the Pullulus War. It’s very relaxing. Which is a bit of a surprise: sometimes I get so stressed meeting people. But these are my people. Wizards . . .