Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum by Greg Funaro Page A

offense, lad.”
    “None taken, sir.”
    “You know me better than anyone, Oscar,” Father said sincerely. “And given the substantial risk I’ve taken by coming here, do you think I’d put the success of my quest entirely in your hands if I wasn’t certain I could make good on my promise?”
    Professor Bricklewick held Father’s eyes for a long time, wherein the air between them seemed to change. Then he rose from his chair and crossed to the study window.
    “Tell me,” he said, gazing out at the courtyard. “Do you really still believe, after all these years, that I cast a love spell on Elizabeth O’Grady?”
    “In truth, no,” Father replied. “But looking back, I suppose I wanted to believe it. Eased my conscience somewhat, made things simpler.”
    “Why did she choose you over me?”
    “Perhaps she didn’t see it as a choice, Oscar. After all, we’d only known her a short time. And once you told me of your feelings, I stepped aside so that you might court Elizabeth unburdened by the knowledge that I too had been in love with her from the beginning. How she found out, I never knew, for upon my honor I never spoke a word of it to her. But once she opened her heart to me…well…I hope someday you can forgive me, old friend.”
    “I hated you so much,” Bricklewick said, thinking. “But more so I hated myself, in part because, somewhere deep down, I’d known all along that the two of you were better suited for one another. Ah, but this stubborn British pride, you see—honor and all that. Not to mention that I
am
much smarter than you.”
    Father smiled wryly. “No argument there.”
    Bricklewick turned from the window. “But you must believe me: when I heard what happened, never once did I gloat or rejoice in your loss.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Her leaving you like that—so unexpectedly, rumor had it—was it something you said, something you did?”
    “I don’t know. All she left me was this.” Father produced the Black Mirror from inside his coat and handed it to Bricklewick. “Show me Elizabeth O’Grady,” Father said, and the Black Mirror flashed and filled the professor’s spectacles with sparkling swirls of reflected color. From where I was standing, I could not see the glass itself, but judging from Bricklewick’s stunned expression, I knew when the image of my mother appeared.
    “I’m sorry, my love,”
she said, her tearful voice far away; and then the glass in both the mirror and the professor’s spectacles went dark again.
    Professor Bricklewick, deeply moved, swallowed hard and handed the mirror back to Father. “I want no part of your magic, Alistair Grim,” he said. “It has brought me nothing but pain and suffering.”
    “I understand, old friend. However, if I am going to get Excalibur and defeat Prince Nightshade, I’m afraid you have no other choice but to endure it one last time.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I want you to go with me, of course. To find Excalibur and save the world.”
    Bricklewick’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You can’t be serious.”
    “Oh, but I am. After all, even a sanctimonious twit such as me wouldn’t expect you to take me at my word.”
    “But, Alistair, my work here—my career, my students—”
    “We’re not getting any younger, Oscar,” Father said with a hand on the professor’s shoulder. “Don’t you see? I’m giving you the chance to realize your life’s ambition: to not only hold Excalibur in your hands, but also to be part of something much greater—a quest worthy of King Arthur himself.” The professor’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Please, Oscar. Come with me. The future of mankind depends on it.”
    Bricklewick fumbled for a reply, but then quickly turned his attention on me.
    “That amulet about your neck,” he said. “Is it glowing?”
    “Sir?” I replied, confused. The warding stone looked the same to me as it always had—milky green—but it did feel warmer to the touch. As to whether or