Unexpected Magic Read Online Free Page B

Stone mechanically made herself a second mug of chofiy —almost as mechanically noting that this seemed to be a wholly new word for the stuff and absently constructing a new kind of alien to drink it—and carried it through to her workroom to resume her day’s stint. With her mind by then wholly upon the new solar system just entered by the starship Candida —there was no need to do whatever it was the learned fan wanted; after all, neither of them had been there and she was writing this book, not he—she switched the electricity back on and sat down.
    Neat blocks of Greco-Cyrillic script jumped to her screen. “Candy!” said the childish voice. “Why don’t you answer? I repeat. We are well inside the Dna System and coming up to jump.”
    F. C. Stone was startled enough to swallow a mouthful of scalding c’phee and barely notice what it was called. “Nonsense, Danny,” she said, somewhat hoarsely. “Everyone knows you don’t jump inside a solar system.”
    The script on the screen blinked a little. “His name is Adny,” the voice said, sounding a little helpless. “If you do not remember that, or that microjumps are possible, then I see I must attend to what he has been telling me. Candy, it is possible that you have been overtaken by senility—”
    â€œ Senility !” howled F. C. Stone. Many murderous fates for Danny crowded through her mind.
    â€œâ€”and your male has been imploring me to ask you to authorize his use of functions Five through Nine to preserve this ship. Will you so authorize? Some action is urgent.”
    A certain curiosity emerged through F. C. Stone’s anger. How far was Danny prepared to take his joke? How many possibilities had he allowed for? “I authorize,” she said carefully, “his use of functions Five through Eight only.” And let’s see if he planned for that! she thought.
    It seemed he had. A symbol of some kind now filled the screen, a complex curlicue the like of which F. C. Stone had never seen or imagined her equipment capable of producing. A wholly new voice spoke, male and vibrant. “I thank you,” it said. “Function Eight will serve for now. This justifies my faith in you, Candida Three. I am now able to bypass the computer and talk to you direct. Please do not turn your power source off again. We must talk.”
    It was a golden voice, the voice, perhaps, of an actor, a voice that made F. C. Stone want to curl up and purr and maybe put her hair straight, even while she was deciding there was no way Danny could have made his rough and squawky baritone sound like this. Gods! He must have hired someone! She gave that boy far too much money. She took another swig of ogvai while she noted that the voice was definitely in some way connected to the symbol on the screen. The curlicue jumped and wavered in time to its words.
    â€œWhat do you mean by calling me Candida Three?” she asked coldly.
    â€œBecause you are the exact analogue of my mistress, Candida One,” the golden voice replied. “Her ship’s computer is known as Candida Two. It therefore followed that when I had searched the universes and discovered you, I came to think of you as Candida Three. I have been studying you—most respectfully, of course—through this machine you use and the thoughts you set down on it, for two years now, and—”
    â€œAnd Daniel has been reading other books besides mine,” F. C. Stone interrupted. “Unfaithful brat!”
    â€œI beg your pardon?” The symbol on the screen gave an agitated jump.
    Score one to me! F. C. Stone thought. “My son,” she said. “And we’re talking parallel universes here, I take it?”
    â€œWe are.” The golden voice sounded both cautious and bemused. “Forgive me if I don’t quite follow you. You take the same sudden leaps of mind as my mistress, though I have come to