The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

She rode over me like the demon horses of the Wild Hunt. "-and you invited me to the swap meet with you day after tomorrow."

"I did that before the spook showed up," I muttered.

"Do you want me not to come?" she said. "Do you want me not to go back to your flat with you tonight? Do you want, me not to bother going ahead with the arrangements for the;. wedding? Do you think I'm afraid? Don't you see I want to' get to the bottom of this as badly as you do?"

I did the only thing I could possible do at that particular moment: I surrendered. I did it literally - I took a white handkerchief out of my pocket and waved it in the air between us. Judy, bless her, went from furious to giggling in the space of a second and a half. The waitress who'd been about to refill my coffee cup undoubtedly figured I'd gone out of my mind, but that was a small price to pay for keeping my fiancee happy.

Only trouble was, I was land of afraid myself.

After sunset Saturday, I flew up to St. Ferdinand's Valley to pick up the heavy-duty constabulary spellchecker. An advantage of dealing with the constabulary is that they never close (given human nature, they'd better not). A disadvantage is that their parchmentwork is even more cumbersome than what the EPA uses (and if you didn't think that was possible, you're not the only one). By the language of their forms, they figured I'd abscond with the gadget the second their backs were turned unless I promised not to in writing ahead of time.

"Why don't you just lay a gear on me?" I asked sarcastically.

"Oh no, sir," said the clerk who kept shoving parchments at me. "That would be a violation of your rights." Apparently signing away my life wasn't.

Because I spent so long signing forms, I didn't get back to my place until going on ten. I lugged the spellchecker upstairs (it was nominally portable, but being part troll didn't hurt if you wanted to carry it more than a few feet), put it down so I could open the door, picked it up again with a grunt, and set it down in the middle of the front room.

"It's about time you got back," Judy said. "I was starting to worry about you."

"Forms," I said, and tried to make it sound as blasphemous as one of your more usual maledictions. I must have managed, because Judy laughed. I stretched. Something in my back went pop. It felt good. I suspected I'd lost about half an inch of height manhandling the spellchecker up to my flat. Maybe the pop meant I was getting it back again. I glared at the gadget "Miserable thing."

"Twenty years ago, there weren't any portables," Judy reminded me. "Ten years ago, one with the capacity of the 'checker in your closet would have been bigger and heavier than this beast. Ten years from now, they'll probably pack even more microimps into a case you can cany around in your hip pocket." "Too bad they haven't done it yet," I grumbled, and stretched some more.

Judy gave me a sidelong look. "Are you trying to tell me you want me to get on top tonight?"

"If that's what you'd like," I said. Far as I can see, it's wonderful either way, or any others your imagination conjures up.

She asked her watch what time it was. A tiny vertical frown line appeared between her eyes.

"Whatever we do, let's do it soon. We're going to have to get up early to make it to the Valley when the swap meet dealers start coming in."

So we did it soon, and it was fine. Judy is one of the most thoroughly pragmatic people I've ever met, but that doesn't keep her from being able to enjoy herself. It just means she makes sure she blocks out the time in which to enjoy herself.

My alarm clock woke us up much too early on an otherwise perfectly good Sunday morning, then laughed at us as we staggered around like a couple of the not-quite-living dead. I swore I'd have to get a new clock one day soon. I think I've said that before, but this time I really meant it.

I showered, then shaved while Judy went in after me. I was dressed by the time she came out, and fixed breakfast while she got that thick, wavy hair of hers dry. Scrambled eggs, toast, coffee - very basic. I threw the dishes in the sink for later, did my he-man weightlifting routine with the constabulary spellchecker, and offwe went They hold the Sunday morning swap meet at the Mason Fly-In. By night it's the biggest outdoor light-and-magic house in the Valley. By day it's just an enormous parking lot, so they get some extra use - and some extra crowns - out of the space.

Because we were good and early, we got to park dose to the dealers' entrance, for which my overworked back was heartily grateful. The only people there were a couple of guards drinking coffee from a big jug. They looked like (and turned out to be) sunlighting off-duty constables.