Free Quiet Magic by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page B

Rob!" The edge on Jeffrey's voice
was excitement, the man decided, giving himself a brisk mental
shake and deliberately shutting his mouth. He turned to pay his
respect to his hostess.
    And felt his gape return. The back
room of the wall was gone, replaced with floor-to-ceiling windows
opening onto a porch. Grouped before the windows was a cluster of
mismatched furniture: a Victorian chaise in rose brocade, an
ottoman in plaid wool, two nondescript chairs of the overstuffed
variety, two elbow tables on which resided beaded lamps, and a
large-ish square table in the very center of the group.
    Elmira was smiling at him from the
chaise. Her jeans today were pristine blue, her white shirt
unblemished. A wry girl with light brown hair tumbling over her
shoulders sat in the overstuffed chair nearest the center table at
which Jeffrey knelt, sorting what seemed to be random lumps of
colored wax. A pair of crutches leaned on the arm of her
chair.
    "Hi, Jeffrey." Rob thought his own
voice sounded a little odd, but the boy was absorbed in his task
and didn't look up. The girl did, quickly, showing him dark-lashed
gray eyes and a smile that changed her face from wry to lovely
before she glanced back down at the table.
    "There's one." She pointed and
Jeffrey's hand closed around a mist-gray lump, bringing it up for
her inspection.
    Rob lowered himself carefully into the
unoccupied overstuffed chair, sparing a moment to admire the
life-sized statue of the borzoi lying between his seat and Elmira's
chaise.
    Elmira grinned at him.
    "It takes some people that way," she
said, with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, "And, then, some
other people come in, go out, and never see what's
here."
    "It is a bit overwhelming," Rob
confessed. "I'm sure I haven't really seen half of it."
    She smiled and extended a languid hand
to stroke the statue of the dog. It sighed and thumped its tail
twice on the floor. Rob leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes, opening them when he heard her low, cool laughter.
    "Poor Mr. Davis," she
offered.
    He sat up straighter. "Rob. And not
altogether poor. Just easily thrown off. Mine has been a simple
life. So far."
    She laughed outright and the dog
thrust its nose into her hand. "But Uncle Tulaine would have it
that ours is the simple life."
    "Your Uncle Tulaine, Miss
Brown--"
    "Elmira."
    "Elmira--"
    "Aunt Elmira," Jeffrey cut in, "we've
got everybody now." He was at her side, offering a pottery bowl
piled high with wax shavings.
    "Very good." She swung her feet to the
floor, suddenly not languid at all, and stood with a dancer's
smooth ripple of muscle. "Is it permitted for Rob to help us with
the final stage?"
    Jeffrey glanced over, blue eyes
candid, brows pulled together. "Well..."
    Rob held up his hands. "Just an
explanation, Jeffrey--and a chance to watch, okay?"
    "Sure," the boy said, face clearing.
"That's okay."
    Elmira had brought a candle to the
square table where the girl was clearing the wax lumps away,
carefully placing them in plastic bags. Jeffrey set the bowl down
and took the bags to the other side of the room, near the
door.
    "I'll take them back to the candle
room after we finish," he told his aunt's raised eyebrow and she
nodded.
    He took his place by the table and
drew the candle to him. Rob stepped closer, trying not to intrude
on the--ritual?--that was taking place.
    The candle was a lovely thing, as
white as the guest-candle he'd lit, or whiter, no more than four or
five inches tall, slender and smooth. The base in which it sat was
rainbow-colored--stained glass? he wondered--and the flame was a
constant wedge of orange touched with blue along the
edge.
    Reverently, Jeffrey picked up the
candle and began to turn it upside down. Instinctively, Rob reached
out to keep the child from the flame--and let his hand drop,
blushing and feeling foolish, as the boy glanced up from his
concentration and turned the candle around so Rob could see the
hole in the bottom of both candle and holder.
    "Aunt