The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

"Cany on with your life and work as normally as you can," he answered. "If fate is kind-always an interesting question - you will eventually be able to work your way out of the center of interest you now occupy."

"And if fate isn't?" I said. A human being, even one who worked for Central Intelligence, probably would have given me a soothing answer back. Henry Legion didn't. "If fate is unload, Inspector Fisher, you will be killed. If fate is very unkind, the world will go with you. As I said before, the balance of Powers has been upset for a long time. Megasalamanders may be the least we have to worry about"

That much pessimism rocked me. "But a megasalamander can slag a whole city-" I felt absurd the second the words were out of my mouth. Was I bragging of how destructive our ultimate weapons were or complaining they weren't destructive enough?

"Yes, Inspector Legion, but although megasalamanders are of the Other Side, the devastation they create is confined to the material," Henry Legion said implacably. "Further, they do not launch themselves, but travel when and were ordered by the mages who control them. If the Powers seek to redress the balance on their own-"

He dematerialized then, leaving me an empty office and cold dread in my middle. That's the trouble about arguing with a spook: if he wants it, he can have the last word.

This time, though, I think he would have had it even if he'd stayed around.

I thought about what he'd just said. Suppose all the Powers that had seen their domains shrink over the past five hundred years or so got together and struck back at the Ones that had dispossessed them. A man mad for revenge is liable to take it no matter what ft costs him and those he loves. If the Powers acted the same way, then heaven help the people over a big part of the globe… except it would more likely be hell on earth.

No wonder Henry Legion couldn't work up much concern about whether I individually lived or died. In a way, it didn't seem that important to me any more, either. But only in a way.

I stared down at my desk, trying to get back from contemplating Armageddon to doing my job. My eye fell on the note Rose had come in to give me. The message, I saw, was from Legate Kawaguchi. It said, in its entirety, "The feather is from a specimen of PHAROMACHRUS MOCINNO." It was written just like that; Rose had printed the formal name in block capitals so I couldn't possible misread it Undoubtedly she'd had Kawaguchi give it to her letter by letter so she wouldn't get it wrong, too. Rose is a queen among secretaries.

Only one trouble: I hadn't the slightest notion what a Pharomachrus mocinno was. I called Kawaguchi back, but I didn't get him. He'd gone into the field - something horrible and gruesome had just broken. The centurion who took my call sounded so harassed that I didn't have the nerve to ask him whether he knew what land of bird Kawaguchi had meant I went and checked our own reference library: not all environmental issues involve the Other Side. We had books about birds that dwell in the Barony of Angels. Pharomachrus mocinno wasn't one. A little information, but not much. I made a mental note to ask Kawaguchi about it the next time I talked with him, then went back to work.

A good rule I've developed and don't follow enough is when in doubt, make a list. Writing things down forces you to think about what's important to you. It works so well, it's almost magic. The first writing, I suspect, really was magic - vaasfc against forgetting. It still serves that role if you give it half a chance.

So I wrote. When I was done, the top of the list looked like this:

® Checking around the Devonshire toxic spell dump.

@ Bakhtiar's Precision Burins.

@ The Chumash Powers.

® Importing leprechauns.

® Chocolate Weasel.

Everything below ®, I figured, could wait. Most of the bottom of the list was day-to-day stuff where it didn't really matter whether the day was today, tomorrow, or next Tuesday. Some of the other items, like what had caused Jesus Cordero to be born apsychic, were important in and of themselves, but were also linked to high-priority items.

I also noticed I didn't really have five items up at the top: I had two. Getting to Bakhtiar's Precision Burins and Chocolate Weasel sprang from trying to get to the bottom of what was going on at the Devonshire dump, and of course the Chumash Powers study and the one on leprechauns were almost incestuously intertwined.

Armed with my list, I did go up front to see Bea. I wanted to get her approval on it so I could cany on with a clear conscience and without having to worry about unexpected thunderbolts from her. Rose waved me through into her sanctum; for a wonder, Bea wasn't on the phone and she didn't have anybody in there with her.

"Good morning, David," she said. One eyebrow went up.