'Not really, though it'll get used up. Magic doesn't just happen, abracadabra poof. It runs on energy, like everything else. Can you get your head around the idea of multiple universes?'
'Like Elfland.'
'Like that. Some people always thought there were other universes; it helps a lot to have one we can point to. Elfland's a parallel universe, and the magic source is another. There may be more, maybe an infinite number.
'Anyway, Elfland's got a wide-open channel to the magic source. They're bathed in it, like we get sunshine and cosmic ravs. while we're insulated. Sometimes, though-at least since Elfland punched the big holes-we can get into contact with the power.''
'The Touch.'
'You got it. If you're good, you can pull in power without props. But spellboxes need something to drop the resistance. Some metals can do it, especially silver.' He tapped the box. 'The flow will eventually wear the dime away. Nobody rides for free.'
'You said people didn't need props,' Danny said. 'What if you're the dime?'
Stagger Lee said quietly, 'Doc. you arc no more than the third person I know who's ever asked that. The answer is that we haven't been doing this long enough to know. It's going to be interesting finding out. Come on, let's go collect our popcorn and some good seats.'
The movie was exciting, a World War Two adventure with evil Nazis and brave Resistance fighters and a long railroad chase. It was in black and white; Stagger explained that movies were still made that way even after color was available. 'Artistic choice,' he said. 'The sort of image you want in the viewer's mind.'
'Well, sure, but isn't it-'
'Not what's on the screen. In the mind. Like any magic trick, it's what the audience remembers that counts.'
They went back to the house and collected Danny's car. This time they drove north, to a place called the Rush Street Grill. It had large round tables, a short but busy bar, a small bandstand with drums and an amp set up. Lucius Birdsong was there, alone at a big round table, eating a huge sloppy cheeseburger. He was wearing a sweatshirt with what looked like a college seal, with the school name and motto in neat lettering. It actually read J-SCHOOL is for the other guys.
'Glad you could make it, Doc,' Birdsong said. 'I trust you have brought all you hold dear, intent on bidding it farewell?'
'Listen to this guy,' Stagger Lee said. 'I've seen him shove in his last typewriter on a pair of fours.'
Carmen Mirage came in. Heads turned. She was wearing a bronze shirtwaist blouse with a deep-cut neck, and a long black leather skirt. Her hair glowed with fairy dust. She sat down with Danny and the others. 'Deka won't be here tonight. She's got a gig way uptown.'
'Neither will Spoke,' Stagger Lee said. 'He's got a date… some distance downtown.' Carmen laughed musically.
A woman sat down behind the drum kit, and a man in a vest and black T-shirt stepped up next to her, carrying an electric guitar. The woman began with a stately beat, the man joined it, and then they launched into an instrumental of 'Wall of Death.'
During 'Valentine's Day (is Over)' the Tokyo Fox came in. Under her coat she was wearing a brilliant red dress, one of those Oriental silk dresses with a high collar and a slit halfway up her thigh that showed black stockings and red high heels.
She looked straight at Danny. 'Good evening, Doc.'
Danny had the impression that the others were looking at him as well. He didn't turn his head to check. He had a feeling that his response was important. 'Hello, Miss Kitsune. Pleased to see you. Are you joining us?'
'Wouldn't miss it,' she said as she sat down.
A couple of songs later, the waiter whispered into Carmen's ear. 'Well, of course, cara mia,' she said, excused herself, and went up to the bandstand.
The drummer began a quick four-beat; the guitarist launched into a twanging riff. Danny hadn't expected country music here. It wasn't that he didn't like country. He was just, well, tired of songs about guns and trucks and the love of good women, dogs, and Jesus in no particular order.
What Carmen sang, though, was jazzy and very quick, not danceable at all:
Black iron through the hard red wheat
Blue crocuses around her feet
North prairie house that stands alone
And the light goes down behind the painted shutters
In the early dark
And Persephones daughters are home
Danny had read the Persephone story: she had been taken away from her mother for part of the year, and the separation made winter. But her daughters…?
Hard benches in the emigrant cars Straight horizon under strange new stars Railroad passage to a dream of land I 'ntil the wheels stop turning And the milk needs churning And the chaff wants burning And the days get over too soon To quite understand
White crosses in a pale green plot
Time passes but the heart moves not
Take comfort that its Someone's will
As the storm wina' s rising and the beech tree shudders
In the golden haze
And Persephone's daughters are still
Long shadows from the great white mills Thunder echoes from the unseen hills Somewhere surely there are welcome lights But this is where you 're dwelling And the crop needs weeding And the children feeding And there's never time for a word To soften her nights
Danny glanced around the room, wondering if there was anyone here who hadn't left home for the Shade. Did anyone get born here? He hadn't seen any children at all. He turned his head away, looked out the window at the empty street. He didn't stop listening.
Gray geese across the diamond sky
How long the wings have passed her by
Good children ought to carry on
But the clouds shine doubled on the clear blue waters
In the silver night
And Persephone's daughters are gone
Carmen took her bow and came back to the table. Around the room, the other diners were rising from their seats. 'Guess we should start?'
'Guess we should,' Lucius said.
The crowd was moving to a large back room. The tables here were covered with green felt. Behind a brass teller's cage Danny could see racked chips, cased decks of cards in neat stacks. There were already people around a craps table, and a roulette wheel was turning.
A slightly plump blond woman in a green velvet tuxedo was greeting people, shaking hands. 'Hello, Lucius, Fox. Nice number, Carmen; thanks. Or do I owe you?'
'Owe Alvah next time you see him. It's his lyric.'
Lucius said, 'Doc, this is Flats Montoya. She owns this joint. Flats, meet Doc Hallownight. He's giving us a try tonight.'
'Good evening, Doc. Didn't I read about you in Lucius's column the other night?'
'She can cook a rare burger and she reads my column,' Lucius said. 'Will you marry me? Or at least let me leave teeth marks on your ankles?'
'Let's hear it for journalistic ethics. Welcome to the game, Doc. Good luck.'
They sat down at one of the round tables. Stagger Lee said, 'Our game is even buy-in, table stakes, dealer's choice. You can sit out any game you don't like; we're all friends here, but the game's still poker. Is that all right?'
