“Some people work well with more structure. He’s one of them. And he’s solid.”
Fitz nodded uncertainly. “Okay.”
“Good man,” I said. “You stand up yet?”
He shoved himself unsteadily to his feet.
I got up with him and put my arm around his shoulders as the target smoldered out and lay there smoking. He’d put on ten or fifteen pounds of muscle working out with me since we’d gotten started and gotten physically and mentally tougher, too.
He’d just thrown out about ten times as much power as he had in his early sessions, focused and concentrated and quick. He didn’t have my strength, but he had far more natural control and precision.
Fitz was going to be a very dangerous wizard.
Like me. Like Ramirez.
“Hit the showers, kid,” I said. “Then meet me in the kitchen. I just got a crate from Mac’s, and you’ve earned the good stuff.”
—
Michael Carpenter was walking me and Will Borden through the renovations to the third and fourth floors. The place still looked like acastle, but when you opened the doors to the rooms, they looked a lot more comfortable and modern.
“Blown insulation between the stone and the drywall,” Michael was saying proudly. “Baseboard heating is working, and running the lines through all the stone was a lot of work, let me tell you. Summers won’t be a problem, with all that stone between you and the outside. Might need heaters at night anyway.”
I shook my head. “And Bob signed off on all the drilling?”
He looked slightly uncomfortable and nodded. “Yes. The spirit assured us he could still operate the castle, though only the bare-bones electrical stuff will survive here. The heaters are very simple. The lighting should be all right. The plumbing won’t be an issue, and the boiler we put in the basement is as old-school as they get.”
“Hot showers,” I murmured, somewhat awed.
He grinned at me. “Well. Yes. You’ll need to do preventative maintenance, too.”
Will, wearing jeans and an office shirt rolled up to the elbows, waved a clipboard. “I’ve got a schedule here for you, Harry. Pretty simple stuff, couple of hours a week if you don’t let it stack up.”
Michael walked us to the doors at the end of one of the long halls running the length of the castle and opened them proudly. “The suite.”
I went in slowly, to a sitting room a little larger than the entirety of my old apartment. It was all rich, natural wood panels on the walls, sealed but not stained, bringing out the whorls and knots and imperfections in each board. The floor was stone. Bookshelves had been built in all around three walls, ready to receive. The original fireplace was still there, framed in by new stonework that made it yawn even a little deeper than its makers had intended. There were logs laid upon a grate in it. A tiny flame burned at one spot in them.
“Gas,” Michael said, and flicked a switch on the wall.
There was a little whooshing sound, and fire curled up around the logs, which I supposed must have been masonry or ceramic or something.
“Just like magic,” I murmured, smiling. Then I frowned. “You couldn’t have done this for the price you quoted me.”
Michael leaned on his cane, grinning, and shrugged. “The material wasn’t as expensive as the labor. I told my people you were my friend and asked them to give whatever extra they’d like to.” He scratched his beard with one hand, eyes sparkling. “Honestly, Mouse made a good impression on all of them. Maybe you should thank him.”
Will snorted.
The bedroom was smaller, but just as well done. There was a bathroom, too. And a hot shower.
“But I like my basement,” I said.
“Nothing stopping you from staying down there,” Michael said. “But…I was thinking maybe you’ve been there long enough.”
Will pursed his lips thoughtfully and looked at Michael.
“What’s wrong with a basement?” I asked.
“Not a thing,” he said. “For the man you’ve been. Maybe the man you’re going to be will like it in here, though.”
