'I guess he's around,' he said.
Slowly, quietly, Doc said, 'If you'd rather not talk to me-'
'Anybody can talk' McCain said, in a dull, metallic voice. Then Doc understood, and knew there really wasn't anything to be said, not now, anyway. McCain got up and walked heavily out.
'I'd better go too, Doc,' Carmen said. 'Line-well, when he sees his lord survive this loss, he will forgive you.'
'I suppose… I didn't think she'd leave.'
Carmen looked at him, her face soft. 'Do you think she could have known it herself?'
Doc said, 'Wasn't it what everybody wanted?'
'Oh, no,' she said. 'You did what was right. Big difference.' She stood up, looked after McCain. 'But you did make her happy. Some of us have to work hard for a lot less. Good night, Doc.'
He was alone at the table, looked up and saw he was alone in the room, except for Shaker industriously wiping a glass.
Doc went backstage. Stagger Lee was unplugging some cables. He looked up. 'Evenin' Doc. What can I do for you?'
'Is… um… she still here?'
'She left just after she finished the set. Didn't even change.' Stagger put down the stuff in his hands. 'You don't remember her name, do you?'
Doc opened his mouth, tried to think.
'I'm sorry, Doc. That was mean, and you've been through plenty. The lady's Shadow name is Phasia; changing it would take- well, acts of substance. That's one of the reasons she's gone. And that is your lesson in magic for this day, young sorcerer.' Stagger gave a crooked grin.
'Thanks. Can I have one more?'
'Ask away. Just remember that we wizards are subtle and hard to light.'
'Under Wacker Drive. Cloud said it was for power, so did Mr. Patrise. But-power for what? To do what?'
'You read Orwell, Doc? 1984V
'No.'
'You should. It's in the library. The phrase you're looking for is 'The object of power is power.' You don't gather power because you want to cash it in for something. You do it because of how it makes you feel. It's a feeling you want more of. And if you get power the way most people do, you get scared that someone else might have more than you.
'As far as I know, Whisper Who Dares didn't have some kind of supervillain doomsday plot that needed derailing just as it counted down to zero. No reflection on what you did, Doc.' He pulled some switches, and the lighting room went dim and silent. 'Any more questions?'
'Not now.'
'Yeah. Not now. Poker Monday. See you there.'
Doc went back to the empty main room.
'Another round?' Shaker said.
'Is Mr. Birdsong's typewriter still back there?'
'Sure is. Doe,' the elf said. His voice was light, solicitous. read to listen. The perfect bartender. He set the typewriter on the bar. 'He said you'd ask for it.'
There was a note in the machine: UNION STATION PLATFORM 8 12:15 P.M. sharp
Doc groped for his watch. 11:35. 'Where's the Union Station?'
Shaker gave him directions. 'Do you want me to close up, sir?'
'Didn't Mr. Patrise-'
'No, sir. Mr. Patrise was quite specific. Your decision.'
'Wait fifteen minutes,' Doc said, unsure where the words were coming from. 'If nobody's come in by then, call it a night.'
'You got it, sir.'
'Shaker, it's been a little bit-I mean, this evening hasn't been the happiest.'
'They're mortals, Doc. They don't always take well to a change in fashion.'
Doc turned the car into the station lot at twelve minutes after midnight. He ran up the steps, nearly falling twice, followed the signs to track eight.
Under the dark expanse of the train shed, a pair of red lights were just disappearing in the distance, and a whistle blew long and sad.
Lucius stepped out of the shadows, holding his coat collar up against the cold. 'The train left at midnight,' he said. 'On time, but I wanted to leave a little safety margin.' He looked down the platform, along the empty pair of rails, pointing away west.
Lucius said, 'She didn't really want to say good-bye. But people have changed their minds about that. She did leave a kiss for you. You won't mind if I only tell you that.'
'Where's she going?'
'There are only two ways you can go, relative to Elfland: toward and away,' Lucius said, very patiently. 'She's going away. To be somebody different from Phasia. Someone more like the way she is now.'
' 'Elfland?' You didn't call it Our Fair Levee.'
Lucius didn't laugh. 'I never have, except on paper.'
'Yeah.' He looked at his feet. 'Would you like a ride… somewhere?'
'No.' The word was heavy, very final.
Doc said, 'You're not leaving too.'
'Leave Chicago? Not likely, Doctor. I'm taking a sabbatical from the Centurion, but I doubt it'll last. Ink and sawdust know where they belong. Hold on to my typewriter, will you?'
'I'll tell Shaker.'
'A good fellow. He's still got the Fox's money, now that I recall.'
'Then what do I do with myself?'
'You get to find out. A voyage of discovery, isn't that a wonderful prospect?' He looked up at the platform roof, a glimmer of moon above it. 'Your era may be better than Patrise's. Kinder. Built on care instead of just control.'
'My… what?'
Lucius said, 'Will you take a last piece of advice from the pulp-wood Indian?'
Doc started to protest, then just said, 'Of course I will.'
'Hold on to Ginny. You can do it. And you've got to. The Great Spirit made you out of better stuff than us, true clay with hot breath in your nostrils. But you weren't fired as we were. That's your power, as clay can shift when brick breaks, but clay needs a form. Ginny's your potter's wheel, Doctor. Lose her and you'll shift away to dust.'
'Lucius… who are you?'
Then Lucius laughed, loud and ringing through the empty station platform. 'Man flesh and Man spirit in Shadow time,' he said. 'And therefore part what I am made, what my will makes me, and what I might become.'
'Lucius, please-'
'See you around, medicine spirit man.' He reached out and fingered Doc's lapel, then turned sharply around and walked away, down the platform into fog and hard darkness, colorless as the ending of a Biograph movie. Part of Doc wanted to run after him, but a greater part knew that there would be no more running after.
Doc looked at his coat where Lucius had touched it. Thrust through the buttonhole was an eagle feather.
He got into the TR3, leaned over the dashboard, and said, 'Go where I am going. Go. Go. Go.'
It didn't work. Whatever higher powers had been slumming on the Levee had packed up their dates and gone home. He had to drive.
As he walked past the switchboard, Lisa said, 'Mr. Patrise left word that he would like to speak with you, sir. At your convenience.'
Doc dashed straight to the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. Mr. Patrise was sitting behind his desk, in
