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Eric closed his eyes; the Prince's outline wavered in a way that was making him slightly
ill and besides, he was hearing music again
Slow, majestic chords; a massive pipe organ, like the one in that chapel in the Santa Cruz
hills
The music faded, and he opened his eyes and lost his jaw entirely.
The Prince looked like a Prince now; clad head-to-toe in some fantastic suit of gold and
scarlet enamel, chased and filigreed and articulated so finely Eric had no doubt that Terenil
could dance in the stuff. It made the armor in the movies look modest and restrained. Not to
mention bulky and awkward.
Terenil favored him with an ironic half-smile.
"Yeah, I see." Eric swallowed. "I guess he would have been kind of conspicuous."
"And he was bespelled ten years ago. The only clothing he could replicate assuming he
could spare the mage-power, which I do not think he could would have been bell-bottomed
jeans and leisure suits. Bard Eric; or High Court garb. Equally conspicuous."
The idea of Kory in a polyester leisure suit made Eric splutter with laughter. When he looked
up again, Terenil was back in his scarlet leather.
"I guess I guess I don't mind so much," Eric admitted. "Not when you put it that way. But "
He surveyed the blood-stiffened boot in his hand with regret. "I'll miss my boots. Be a while
before I can afford another pair."
"If you will permit?" Terenil took the boots from him, held them in front of his chest, and
frowned at them.
A quick, staccato chord
The mocassin boots were gone. What was in Terenil's hands was something else entirely.
Eric had lusted after the famous "Faire boots," tooled and decorated, hand-made,
custom-fitted boots, for years. These made those look like his worn-out moccasins. Brilliant
scarlet, and embellished with tiny metallic gold sunbursts
Like Terenil's armor.
"Not your colors, I do not think," the elf muttered; and as a strange little fluted melody played
behind Eric's eyes, he watched the tint deepen to wine, watched the sun-bursts vanish, to be
replaced by a simple vine and leaf pattern, all in silver, threading from the sole to the top.
"Here," Terenil said, with a touch of pride, holding the boots out to him. "In simple things, at
least, it seems I have not lost my abilities."
Eric took them. This is it. I have gone around the bend. I am no longer operating in this
reality
Nevertheless he kicked off his sneakers and pulled the boots on. It was almost with relief
that he found them to be miles too big
Thank God. Reality. Next, I find out I'm wearing Baggies on my feet, and that he hypnotized
me.
"They're "
"Indeed, I expected. They are, after all, copies of mine." The elf knelt for a moment, and ran
his hands down Eric's legs
The feeling of Terenil's hands upon him was disturbingly sensual.
Christ! First Kory
Then the leather moved, tightening around Eric's calves and feet until the boots might have
been painted on him. He'd have jumped, if Terenil hadn't been holding his ankles.
Jesus H
The elf stood and straightened. "Now do they fit well enough. Bard Eric?"
Eric swallowed hard. "Uh yeah, sure."
Too weird for words. Definitely.
I'm almost afraid to think what could happen next . . .
The Prince hailed a cab at the curb, directing the driver to some place in Beverly Hills. Eric
was too bemused to note the address. He kept expecting his boots to turn back into
Baggies, or into his old, ruined pair.
All this talking about magic but these are real; I can touch them. And Kory being healed
was real, too. It's not talk, it's not FIX. It's happening.
The cab stopped. Terenil produced a fifty from nowhere (literally), and handed it to the
driver, who opened the door for them. Eric found himself stepping out onto a driveway that
looked like it went on for miles.
The cab pulled away, leaving them standing beside a wrought-iron gate with more security
hookups than Eric had ever seen in his life.
Terenil idly placed his palm on one of the mysterious black boxes, and Eric heard a
complicated burst of twelve-tone
And the gate swung open.
"I have the feeling that this isn't your house," he said, nervously. "Are we going to get
arrested for breaking and entering in the next five minutes?"
Terenil raised his eyebrows again. "Are you more concerned with the impropriety of
appropriating someone else's property, or the possibility of being caught at it?"
"Being caught," Eric said promptly, with a grin.
"You should have been born one of us." The Prince pushed the gate completely open and
beckoned to Eric to follow him. "The owner of this manse is an old friend of mine. He is
currently in Eire, and will be for some months. He has left only one caretaker, who is surfing,
and will not return until sundown. I have convinced the alarms that we hold the proper keys.
There will be no police here."
The driveway did go on for miles, white and glaring under the afternoon sun. "So why are we
here?" Eric asked, following the scarlet figure up the hot stretch of concrete. "I have the
feeling you've been here before."
"I have," Terenil sighed. "Often though not for this purpose, precisely. I came here when I ...
needed a place . . . undisturbed."
Eric flashed on a glimpse of one of the elves last night, sitting in a corner stoned out of his
wits. He nodded to himself. Yeah. Being an elf isn't going to keep the cops from hassling
you by day if they think you're blitzed.
"So why are we here now?" Eric persisted.
Terenil moved off the white desert of concrete and onto a path of tastefully arranged stones.
"We are here. Bard Eric, because we need a place undisturbed. A place of combat, and
this manse has such within it."
Place of combat?
"What's wrong with the park?"
They had reached a portico of rough-hewn redwood beams. Terenil played his trick with the
door, and it, too, swung open at a touch. He strode inside as if he knew exactly where he
was going.
He said he did.
"This a place where we will not be conspicuous," Terenil said carefully, leading the way
through the tiled entry and down a birch-paneled hallway. "My abilities are not . . . what they
were. I cannot make us 'invisible,' engage in combat, and hold my memories in your mind,
all at once. Two of the three, yes, but not all three. Here."
He touched another door and motioned Eric to precede him, and Eric found himself in a
dojo.
Who the hell's house is this, anyway?
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