The next day, Simon was already regretting have refused the rides. He was starting to sweat, and he had just gotten off the bus. It was warm, but he wondered if it would look like fear.

That would be an easy mistake to make, since in fact he was terrified. He didn’t even understand why. Whatever strength or fighting experience the man might have had, there was no reason for him to beat Simon up. Sharkes was a lawyer, and Simon was offering him something he wanted. Two things in fact, information and a demonstration.

From the outside, the building looked like any other office building. Nice. Modernistic. Fairly new. A lot of glass. Just what you would expect.

Simon fought his nameless fear, walked inside and looked up the Senator’s district office in the office directory. He took the elevator up.

As soon as he entered the waiting room, the receptionist asked him what time his appointment with Senator Mann was. She plainly expected him to say he didn’t have one, so she could shoe him out and tell him to make an appointment over the phone. Presumably she would find a way not to give him one.

Instead Simon said, “I’m not here to see the Senator. I’m here to see Mr. Sharkes. I don’t have an appointment but I’d like you to give him this. If he still doesn’t want to see me I’ll leave immediately.”

She read the folded piece of paper he handed her without asking. It said, ‘I can give you two things you are interested in, an explanation and a demonstration. Adam couldn’t.’

She shrugged, plainly thinking this would be only the briefest delay in her plan to throw him out. That was why he hadn’t mentioned sorcery in the note. If someone besides Sharkes read it, they could decide he was a nut and get rid of him immediately.

She did walk into a back room, perhaps to throw the note into a wastepaper basket. Apparently not though. She came back looking surprised. “Mr. Sharkes will see you now. This way.”

So far his plan was working smoothly, but oddly enough he felt more nervous than ever. His stomach knotted as he tried to look calm, and followed the receptionist into another room.

Sharkes sat behind a desk, somehow more dangerous than ever in his element, or one of them. He nodded and politely thanked the secretary in a tone that indicated she could leave and close the door behind her.

Mr. Sharkes focused his eyes on Simon, but did not ask him to be seated. Seated behind his desk, with legal volumes lining the walls, he was a commanding presence.

He said, “I am certain you would not waste my time. I could not help noticing that you mention a demonstration, but did not bring a subject with you.”

Simon thought but did not dare say, ‘And a good afternoon to you too.’

Actually it was just as well he wasn’t going to be expected to feign small talk.

Simon replied casually, as if he had a room full of test subjects waiting at home had he chosen to bring some. “Here’s the thing. If I brought someone with me there would be all sorts of questions. They might be a confederate. Even if not, I might have chosen a very suggestible subject, or prepared them in advance, or picked someone so obsessed with Eightfold that I could make hypnotic suggestion look like sorcery.”

The other man nodded curtly. “All that is true. If you are going to have me choose a subject myself for you to demonstrate on, I am indeed very interested.”

This was the hard part. Well, one of the hard parts. Simon did his best to meet the flat sharky eyes, and not let his voice squeak. “In a sense. However, I have ethical concerns about using sorcery on someone whose never heard of it, and cannot give an informed consent.”

The face went cold. “So you are going to apologize for wasting my time, and leave as quickly as possible to reduce the amount of annoyance I feel?”

Simon tried to sound calm. “Instead, how about this. You set up some sort of tamper proof recording device that even you couldn’t tamper with. The two of us will need to be in here alone. I am not sure exactly how delirium works, but I believe our opponents have access to judges we don’t. Being in front of anyone who knew less that we do might hinder me.”

Now Mr. Sharkes sounded surprised rather than angry. “So I’m the test subject? That does interest me. I should mention I’m not very suggestible, and people have tried and failed to hypnotize me.”

Knowing it wasn’t possible to hypnotize an unwilling subject, Simon was not dismayed. He said, “Which is exactly why this will settle all the doubts that still exist after Adam’s so called demonstration.”

The lawyer nodded vigorously. “A very good point. Now since I am a law abiding lawyer who would never dream of recording anyone without their knowledge and consent, it will take me a few minutes to have recording equipment set up. Nothing so crude as a machine in a drawer, I assure you. Sally will bring refreshments.”

Sure enough, the receptionist came in a moment after Mr. Sharkes stepped out. She was much more obliging than she had been before, and smiled graciously when he asked for something cold instead of the coffee. The little pastries were much better than his breakfast cereal had been, although there wasn’t quite enough for a full meal. The lemonade was perfect. Simon could get used to this.

Then the food was gone, Sharkes was back, and so were his nerves. The lawyer was seated expectantly behind his desk. As he had anticipated, Simon’s mind had gone blank, so he pulled the index card from his pocket with trembling hands.

In theory Sharkes shouldn’t get an active resistance roll because he had consented, but it occurred to Simon he might be very resistant to the mere idea of having his mind manipulated. Simon asked him to concentrate on something else. He shrugged and pulled some papers in front of him and started writing. He certainly looked like he was concentrating on something else, but Simon had better do something soon before he got impatient. This was as good as it was likely to get.

He read the top of his index card. Then he stared at the lawyer and said aloud, “You believe in sorcery.”

The feeling of power going out from him felt almost natural, and he managed to keep energy in reserve.

Next he said, “You don’t like sorcery or anything associated with it, because your strength and intelligence and determination have gotten you to the top of this world, but they could change everything and you don’t know who would win out.”

More power was used, and gathered from around him. Maybe he should have practiced more before trying this. Something hurt inside him, halfway between pain and exhaustion.

And there was still one more sentence to go on his index card. He had a headache, and a more indefinable pain inside himself, but he had to do the final line so everything he had done so far didn’t go to waste.

“You want to do everything you can to minimize and slow down the changes it makes in the world.”

Now he had a blinding headache, and his mind or soul or spirit or whatever hurt even worse.

Sharkes said politely, “You don’t look well. Just sit there and rest.”

As the lawyer stood up and started to walk around his desk, Simon took a shuddering breath and tried to relax. Hopefully his headache and less definable pains would go away soon. Maybe he should ask for an aspirin. At any rate, the worst was over now. He thought.

Simon was just about to tell Mr. Sharkes that he was feeling better, that he could go back to his chair and Simon would be ready to stand up in a couple of minutes. Then the lawyer sped up suddenly and grabbed him by the throat.

After the first shock Simon realized that he was still breathing and his neck wasn’t broken, so he gasped out, “That was the only way I could really –”

Sharkes interrupted in a calm and even tone. “Yes, the first part was clever. Elegant even. If it had ended there we would not be having this conversation, or at least not under circumstances quite so uncomfortable to you.

“The second part was not so good. While your logic was clear, elegant, and rational, it is no part of your responsibility to tell me what I like or don’t like. I can decide for myself. Plus, it seems like I have this dislike of sorcery, especially when it is used to attempt to control me.

The hand tightened just a tiny bit. It was now difficult and uncomfortable for Simon to breath. There would be bruises on his throat.

Sharkes still sounded calm and conversational though. “Where you erred most grievously was the third part. Telling me what I actually wanted to do was bad. Like I’m your servant or your catspaw. Now this sorcery stuff is dangerous, and I actually feel a strong desire to do what you said. Perhaps I should make sure you don’t interfere or change your mind or try to micromanage me. Perhaps I should start by preventing you from changing the world with your sorcery ever again.”