FINDING
He was a Finder, and arguably the best there was. Give him a scent, an objective, a mission, and he would search it out, traversing worlds and universes, until it was found. How he had come by this power was as much a mystery to him as others, although he had his theories, but he had used it more than once with good effect, and that in itself was explanation enough.
Of course, good was not all he could do with it; he occasionally indulged in the guilty pleasure of squirrel-chasing, which is where he was now. The bright sun shone overhead in a perfect blue sky, devoid of clouds. Trees dotted the landscape, their branches tall, the shade they cast on the ground refreshing and cool, perfect for those times when he needed to rest and watch the squirrels cluster curiously about him. Once he had recovered his wind, he would leap up and they would scatter again, their furry gray bodies running this way and that, providing endless hours of amusement. Sometimes, when he wanted to, he would catch one and shake it a little bit, as was the nature of dogs, but more often than not, he let them go, relishing the chase, the hunt, more than the capture. Such was the way of things, the way of the Finder. To a Finder, the chase was most important.
Tired finally of his exertions, he left the world behind, secure in the knowledge that it could be recalled, or recreated, at a whim. He stepped--sideways was the closest, if not the most accurate word--into the familiar yard, letting the well-known scents and sounds of home wash over him for a minute before trotting up the back stairs and nosing open the door. Once, he needed someone to let him in and out, but no more; someone who could traverse universes in the space of a heartbeat was not to be stopped by a metal screen door.
The door banged shut behind him as he entered the kitchen, where a tall woman--but then, all humans were tall from his vantage point--busied herself over a large pot of water, humming softly. The distinct smell of semolina reached his nose, and he wagged his tail approvingly. Spaghetti was always a welcome dinner, particularly if she was serving meatballs. The woman gazed down at him knowingly, one eyebrow arched.
"Uh-uh," she said. "You want food, you go bug your partner in crime."
He whined in a hopeful, but-you're-so-much-closer manner, but the woman shook her head again and turned back to the pot of water. He shrugged mentally and padded out into the living room. Kit's mama was a sucker for the puppy-dog look, provided his timing was right, and dinner was never a good time to beg, as she seemed to think human food was unsuitable for a dog. She was wrong, of course--in his opinion, dog food was unsuitable for a dog--but there were other members of the family who were more generous around dinnertime.
The sounds of the television reached his ears, what sounded like a creature speaking in a guttural language he had never heard before. Peering around the edge of the couch, he saw Kit's sister in her usual spot, chatting animatedly on the phone while flipping idly through channels on the television Kit had "improved." He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, then decided she was too tied up in her discussion of what Flok'Nar was doing to Igrenna that was "just so like a man!" to pay attention to him or his desire for food. He didn't even want to consider who--or what--was on the other end of the phone, trotting past her instead toward the stairs at the front of the house.
Upstairs, he expected to find Kit in his bedroom, working on his homework or on another spell diagram, but his nose informed him before he had set foot on the first step that Kit was not up there. Puzzled and slightly annoyed, as Kit had been his last chance to score a before-dinner snack, he turned around and headed back into the kitchen, where Kit's mama was draining the spaghetti noodles into a colander.
Where's Kit? he asked, nosing her and looking up expectantly as she turned to him. He's not upstairs.
The woman frowned. "I don't know, Ponch. He said he had an errand to run," she replied, placing a heavy emphasis on the word "errand." Ponch knew this meant Kit was off on some bit of wizardly business with his other partner in crime, Nita and sighed, disappointed. It came out as a kind of soft whine and growl that caused Kit's mother to glance down at him again. "Can't you...you know, find him?" She waved her fingers in what was supposed to approximate mystical powers.
I don't want to interfere with whatever he's doing, he told her. Anyway, finding takes a lot of work, and I'm starving!
Kit's mother sighed theatrically, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine," she said, retrieving the box of dog biscuits from the top of the refrigerator. "Get fat. See if I care." She handed him a dog biscuit, which he took between his teeth, wagging his tail gratefully.
You're a kind, wonderful, generous person, he said.
She snorted as she returned to the sink, turning on the cold water and running the steaming noodles underneath the tap. "I'm a sucker, and I know it."
A kind, wonderful, generous sucker, he replied, settling down to enjoy his dog biscuit. He had only made it halfway through before there was a loud bang from outside, the sound of air being suddenly displaced as someone materialized in the middle of it. He wagged his tail expectantly, knowing who had returned, and finished the last of the biscuit in one bite.
The screen door flew open and Kit stormed in, looking furious. Ponch finished licking the crumbs from the floor and looked up, concerned.
"What's the matter, mijo?" Kit's mother asked, frowning at the thundercloud on her son's face.
"Nothing," he said sourly, but both his mother and Ponch knew better.
It's Nita, isn't it? Ponch asked, getting to his feet.
Mrs. Rodriguez cocked an eyebrow expectantly at her son.
"Yes," Kit admitted grudgingly, breaking down under her stare. "She's--she's such a girl!" he exploded, throwing his arms in the air. "Half the time, I don't know what she expects, and the other half I spend apologizing to her for not knowing what she expects! It's like I'm supposed to read her mind or something!"
"I thought you two could do that," his mother said.
"That's not what I mean," Kit replied angrily. "I just--I don't know, maybe I should just give up on the opposite sex altogether!" He clenched and unclenched his fists, pacing back and forth furiously.
"Amen!" his sister called from the other room.
"I rest my case," Kit muttered, glaring in her direction.
"Ready to let me talk without biting my head off?" his mother asked coolly.
"Sorry," Kit said, abashed. "I just don't know what to do. How can we be partners and be so completely different?"
"First, stop trying so hard to live up to her expectations," Mrs. Rodriguez said wisely. "A partnership is at its best when both people bring something different to the table. Like your father and me."
"But if I don't try, she just snaps at me," Kit complained. Ponch walked over to him and nuzzled him affectionately, and he responded by scratching him behind the ears.
"That leads up to the second rule," his mother replied, opening the refrigerator door and withdrawing a jar of tomato sauce. "Apologize for everything but take nothing seriously."
"I've already got the first part down," Kit grumbled, but it was only half-heartedly. "But I don't know about the second. How am I not supposed to take it seriously when she's pointing out my supposedly many flaws?"
"Supposedly many?" his mother asked, smiling slightly.
"Well..." Kit said, shrugging.
"The answer to that question comes also in two parts," Mrs. Rodriguez said, screwing her face up as she attempted to unscrew the lid of the jar in her hands. "The first part is to recognize your weaknesses," she said, giving up and handing the jar to Kit, who opened it easily. "The second is to recognize hers."
Kit laughed and handed the jar back to his mother. "She has no weaknesses. Well, she can be a little overbearing at times," he conceded, "and stubborn. And bossy. All right," he said, grinning sheepishly, "so she has weaknesses, too. What am I supposed to do about them?"
"Nothing," Mrs. Rodriguez said simply. "Just know that she has them, and that she'll have to find her own way through them, even as you'll have to find yours." She turned the colander full of limp spaghetti noodles over, dumping its contents into the pot and pouring the jar of sauce over the top.
"I guess so," Kit said dubiously. "I just wish I could find out what she was thinking, sometimes."
"Ah, now that," said Mrs. Rodriguez, carrying the spaghetti over to the table, "is not someplace you want to go. The mind of a teenage girl is no place for a teenage boy."
Kit smiled and began to set the table while Ponch sat, suddenly pensive. He wanted to do something to help Kit, and the idea was there: to find out what Nita was thinking. He could find that out easily; the mind of a teenage girl might be forbidden to Kit, but Mrs. Rodriguez had neglected to include him in her edict. It would have to wait, he decided, as the smell of what was definitely meat sauce wafted through the air to him. Not just because of the sauce, though; if Kit caught on to his intentions, he might extend the no-boys-allowed prohibition on Nita's mind to him as well. Ponch would respect that, out of respect for Kit, which was why he would have to wait. Besides, he thought, his tail wagging furiously, the serving of meat sauce was a rare occasion. Who knew when his next opportunity to get some would be?
Later, after the house had fallen silent to human ears--though it was still noisy to Ponch's ears, filled with the creaking of the house settling, the rattling of pipes in the basement, the tik-tik-tik sound of an insect crawling inside the walls--he stirred himself from his light slumber on the floor of Kit's bedroom. The pale moon shone through the bedroom window, illuminating a square area on the floor. Ponch looked out at it and repressed the urge to howl; the last thing he needed was to wake the whole neighborhood, which invariably occurred as all of the other dogs on the street picked up his mournful cry.
Instead, he stood and shook himself so that he was fully awake, concentrating on exactly how he would find Nita's mind. He still remembered her scent from the last time he had traveled to it, a kind of green smell, as if smell could have a color, that reminded Ponch of earth and growing things; which, after all, was Nita's original specialty. He focused on the smell, and, satisfied that he had it locked in his mind, stepped sideways.
It was dark between universes, but Ponch was used to this. He didn't need his eyes to Find something; he relied primarily on his nose, and even that wasn't quite an accurate description of the Finding process. There was something Else involved, something that was beyond any normal canine--or human--sense, something that transcended them but that existed at the same time within them. It was difficult to explain, even to himself, and he pushed the thought aside, directing his attentions on Nita's smell. He padded on silent feet through the void, stopping occasionally to stick his nose into one universe after another, experiencing all sorts of interesting and occasionally revolting smells, but no Nita. Finally, he sensed the smell was becoming stronger and he began to sniff at each passing universe. One smelled close, but it was not Nita; rather it smelled more like her sister, and was that the faint tang of a certain otherworldly prince with perfect, waist-length blonde hair? Ponch retreated quickly; whatever Dairine was dreaming about was not something he wanted to intrude on.
The next universe smelled much older, and in it Ponch detected the scent of indescribable sorrow and loss, along with a whisper of a scent he had known well: Nita's mother. He retreated again, leaving Mr. Callahan to sleep in peace.
At last he arrived at Nita's universe. He was certain it was hers without even sticking his nose into it, it felt like hers, somehow in a way that was different from the feel of Finding something. He shook himself again and stepped through the opening.
Lava erupted behind him. He yelped, startled as the fiery spume arced high into the air, landing with a sizzle on the rocks not two feet away from his paws. All the world was shrouded in smoke, illuminated from beneath by fire; whole rivers of flame that wound sinuously over the landscape. Great black rocks jutted from the lava at uneven intervals and the smell of sulfur filled the air, accompanied by the roar of a nearby volcano as it spewed forth more molten rock. He turned and saw the enormous black shape of the fiery mountain rearing high above him, its peak shrouded in thick, dark smoke that flashed occasionally, lit from within, as if lightning were involved as well.
So she's angry, Ponch thought, staring grimly at the broken and twisted wasteland before him. Extremely angry, he amended as the earth shuddered beneath him. But where is she? He sniffed carefully at the air, trying to filter out the overwhelming odor of brimstone. Of course, he thought unhappily as he caught Nita's scent. She had to be standing on the rim of the volcano. With a very human sigh, he began to pick his way up the jagged rocks, panting heavily in the intense heat.
What I would give for sweat glands, although they'd probably make me take a bath that much more often. He paused, glancing in the direction of the volcano's rim, which was still hidden by smoke. Had he come halfway up already? It had been too easy, but, he reminded himself, this was Nita's world, and it played by Nita's rules.
As if to emphasize that fact, a bolt of lightning sizzled to the ground at Ponch's feet, causing his fur to stand on end. He scrambled backward. So much for easy.
Panting, feeling as though he'd be willing to take a thousand baths if it would wash the feeling of soot and dirt from his fur, he started upward again, looking warily at the clouds from time to time, in case they hurled another lightning bolt at him. They rumbled ominously a few times as he approached their bottoms, but otherwise remained harmless. Ponch took a deep breath and plunged into them, his eyes stung by soot and ash as he passed through. Just as his lungs began to burn, when it felt like he was never going to make it, the smoke thinned away, revealing the mouth of volcano. Ponch let out an explosive breath and stood, gasping and shaking for a moment while his eyes roved the alarmingly narrow rim of the volcano, searching for Nita.
There, he said to himself, spotting her on the opposite side of the cone; her slender, graceful figure bent so far over the edge that Ponch feared she was going to fall in. Her face was eerily illuminated in the harsh red light, and she held both hands out over the smoke and fire below, as if warming them. A second later, she curled one hand under, raising it skyward, and Ponch understood as a gout of molten rock shot from the volcano, causing the ground beneath him to tremble. She was controlling the volcano; its every eruption was at her command.
He began to gingerly pick his way over to her, trying not to look down, stumbling occasionally as his left front paw slipped out from under him to hang over a thin air. She was making it difficult to get to her, but then perhaps that was the point. He observed that humans often chose to nurse their dark, wounded feelings alone, rather than share them, and the consequent improvement in their moods, with someone else. Nita was doing an admirable job in this respect, but Ponch was a Finder, and that meant he Found whatever he was looking for, whether he, she, they, or it wanted to be Found or not. Gradually, he made his way over to her.
Getting a little melodramatic, aren't you? Ponch asked.
She turned to stare at him, frowning slightly. "Ponch? How did you get here?"
I'm a Finder, he said simply. What's with the fireworks?
Nita scowled, and the clouds surrounding them rumbled dangerously. "Kit," she replied shortly, turning back to the volcano and raising a huge jet of lava from its depths, watching in satisfaction as it cascaded down the mountainside, roiling and seething.
I see. What'd he do?
"It's not so much what he did," Nita snapped, preparing to bring forth another eruption. "It's what he's not doing."
What's that?
"He's not taking our partnership seriously," Nita replied, her hands curling into claws as she dug down deep into the air before her, apparently intending to make this eruption the biggest one of all. Ponch looked around, worried that he would be caught in the lava's path until he noticed that this side of the mountain was not covered in molten rock; Nita obviously did not want to be charbroiled any more than he did.
What makes you think he's not taking it seriously? he inquired, watching impassively as a lake of bubbling magma rushed up to the surface, overflowing the cone completely on the opposite side.
"Oh, I don't know," Nita said irritably, straining to make the lava do something more than froth and bubble. "He's spending more and more time working by himself on things that we used to do together. I can't even get him to go swimming with me and S'ree anymore. And then there's you," she added accusingly, glaring at Ponch.
Me? What did I do?
"He spends an awful lot of time with you, exploring alternate universes or whatever you guys do with each other."
You're afraid, Ponch realized. I can smell it.
"What?" she asked, incredulous. "No, I'm not!"
Yes you are. You're afraid he's forgetting about you. That you'll lose him.
She snorted. "You're giving him too much credit."
Am I?
"Yes!" she snarled, and the earth quaked. Ponch stood his ground, staring at her calmly as she raised Hell itself from the depths of the volcano; an inferno so intense that he could feel the heat licking hungrily at his face, singeing his fur. "Don't look at me like that!" she shouted, stamping one foot.
Like what?
"Like you know what I'm thinking!"
No, I don't know that. Kit doesn't, either, but I'm trying to Find out for him.
"What?" she roared. "He asked you to do that?"
No. I decided to do it.
"Why?"
He frowned mentally. I don't know. Because there's something very...natural about the way you and Kit work together, something I've never seen before, not even from Tom and Carl. When you two fight, the balance is thrown off, and that bothers me.
Nita's rage seemed to be rapidly diminishing; the fire within the mountain was dying out. She looked thoughtful. "You may be right," she admitted after a moment.
I know I am, he said, coming over to her and sitting on his haunches. I can smell it.
She laughed. "Is everything about smell with you?"
No. There's food as well.
"I should have known," she said dryly, scratching him fondly behind the ears. She stared into the distance, where the sun was visible through the rapidly diminishing clouds. "What am I gonna do, Ponch?" she asked helplessly. "I don't want to lose him."
You won't, he assured her. He's just as upset over your fights as you are. Somehow, I don't think you two could ever completely lose contact with each other. And even if you did, I could Find both of you again.
"One of these days, you're going to have to tell us how you do that," Nita told him.
I'll let you know as soon as I know, he promised.
The smoke cleared, revealing a brutally tortured, broken landscape. Nita looked sadly at it. "I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess."
Nothing that can't be fixed, given time. Look, he said, indicating a small, solitary white flower that, against all odds, clung to the jagged mountainside.
"I see it," Nita said. Even as she spoke the words, another flower blossomed, and another, and another, until the whole landscape was transformed into a sea of white petals.
A little overboard, Ponch observed. You need grass and trees.
"And squirrels?" Nita suggested.
Ponch thumped his tail appreciatively. Thanks. But it's your world, not mine. I should go, anyway.
"Ponch," Nita called as he turned away.
Yes?
"Thanks."
Just remember it when I come looking for dog biscuits, he told her. I'll see you in the morning, he added before vanishing sideways.
A moment later, he reappeared in Kit's bedroom. The morning sunlight was visible through the window, and Kit was snoring contentedly on the bed. Ponch nuzzled him affectionately.
She loves you, he said. I think you know that already, though, deep down. Kit stirred slightly, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep.
Ponch regarded him for a moment, then, yawning and stretching, he turned around and sank to the floor with a satisfied sigh. Finding out what Nita thought was easy, he thought drowsily. And it would hardly have been a hazard for Kit to make the trip himself. Dairine, on the other hand? Now that was scary, even for a Finder. He chuckled softly to himself before drifting off into a world of his own, one that he visited often, one that involved the shining sun, the green grass, plenty of trees, and lots and lots of squirrels.
---
LAWYERS NOTE: None of the characters in the Young Wizards(tm) series belong to me; they belong to Diane Duane, whom I may or may not be channeling. Okay, I'm not; I am merely engaging in a creative expression based on that sheaf of sheaf of universes. Lawyers, however, might be argued to belong to the Lone Power, in which case it is my sworn duty to defeat them...