Free Magic Zero by Christopher Golden, Thomas E. Sniegoski

embarrassed by Nicodemus’s insensitivity. He was well aware of the order’s lack of empathy for peoples of less civilized cultures. “He doesn’t understand the relationship that you and Timothy share. Let me explain to him and—”
    The Asura raised a pale hand, silencing him.
    “This is fine, Leander Maddox,” Ivar assured him. “Go and be with the boy. I sense that he is still very frightened.” Abruptly the Asura turned and strode toward the scattered corpses of the Cuzcotec assassins. He lifted one of the dead off the ground and heaved the body onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. “I will dispose of our enemies’ empty shells,” he said. “It is my duty as victor.” And he continued on his way up the stairs.
    Leander hesitated only a moment before following Nicodemusand Timothy into the study. In moments, Sheridan had brewed a hot drink made from several herbs, and the rich, spicy smell of the refreshment filled the room with its soothing aroma. The metal man had then dismissed himself, saying that he was going to assist Ivar with cleaning up after the afternoon’s incident.
    Leander sat in a high-backed chair and gazed sadly about the study, its floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with every conceivable kind of writing. This had been Argus’s favorite room. He had loved to read and would often retire here to unwind after a long day. Now, with the discovery of Timothy, Leander understood all the more the pressures of being Argus Cade.
    An individual pot of the herbed drink and a cup and saucer had been placed on a tray before each of them. Timothy had not yet touched his. He sat nervously next to Nicodemus on the long sofa; Edgar perched behind him. The Grandmaster sipped his brew and delicately placed his cup on the saucer. Alastor had curled into a tight ball on the great sorcerer’s lap.
    “I’ll be blunt, Timothy,” Nicodemus said, slowly turning his gaze to the boy. “Word of your existence has leaked to the outside world, and a panic has begun.”
    A shudder went through Leander. The Grandmaster had confirmed his fears.
    Timothy twisted around to fix the Grandmaster in his gaze. “A panic? About me? Why would they be afraid of me?”
    Edgar flapped his wings from his perch atop the back of Timothy’s seat. “Yeah, well that pretty much describes theParliament,” the boy’s familiar croaked, squawking voice laden with sarcasm.
    “Hold your tongue, Edgar,” Leander warned.
    “Perhaps it was not only the primitive that should have been excluded from this gathering, eh, familiar?” Nicodemus noted idly, filling his cup with more drink from his brewpot.
    For once, Edgar managed to be silent.
    Leander leaned forward to set his empty cup and saucer down on the tray. “Grandmaster, I think Timothy is having a difficult time grasping how he might pose a threat to anyone.”
    Nicodemus continued to sip his libation, the hairless cat dozing in his lap. “In order to understand the guilds,” he proclaimed, “one must have the ability to think like them. Certainly they will show great interest in your handicap, some decrying the cruelty of your fate and others thinking you a blight upon our race. There will be debate about you, boy, all of it regarding what ought to be done with you, whether you are an unfortunate child or an aberration of nature. But in secret, the debate will focus upon only one thing: whether or not Timothy Cade is a threat to the guilds and their power.”
    Timothy grunted in disbelief and confusion, shaking his head. “But I still don’t—”
    “It isn’t that you cannot do magic, boy,” Nicodemus noted, sitting slightly forward and stroking his long mustache thoughtfully. “What has them all skittish is what else they have heard . . . that you are unaffected by it. Undetectable. Invisible.”
    “And that’s what scares them?” Timothy still wasn’t sure of the meaning of it all. He had yet to see the entire tapestry ofthe problem, choosing instead to