Wild Cards: Death Draws Five by George R.R. Martin, John J. Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

abbot’s private quarters. He’d gone there plenty of times for instruction, to receive a new koan to meditate upon, or even for conversation about his varied experiences in the outside world. He’d even been summoned into the abbot’s presence once or twice for disciplinary measures.
    But, Fortunato reflected, not for the latter reason for years. The last time had been after Tachyon’s visit. Fortunato had gone over the wall after the little alien Fauntleroy had left and spent a week drunk in the village at the base of the mountain. But those days had passed. He couldn’t even begin to guess why Dogen wanted to see him now.
    Dogen nodded as his assistant led Fortunato to the open doorway of his small, austere office.
    “Leave us,” he said as Fortunato stared at the man sitting uncomfortably cross-legged on the mat before Dogen’s low desk. The man smiled up at him like they were long-lost friends.
    “Hey, Fortunato,” Digger Downs said. “Long time, no see.”
    Fortunato looked from the star reporter of Aces! magazine back to Dogen, mystified.
    “Indeed,” he said, and entered the room, bowing to the abbot. He looked back at Downs. Downs was a small, lean, brown-haired, brown-eyed man pushing a well-preserved fifty. Fortunato hadn’t seen him since he’d entered the monastery. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
    “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” Digger said with a smile much too bright for so early in the morning.
    “You were in the neighborhood at two o’clock in the morning?” Fortunato asked in disbelief.
    “Well,” Digger allowed. “It did take me awhile to get here from Tokyo. I left as soon as the news broke. I wanted to be the first to get your reaction, and,” he added with some satisfaction, “it looks as if I am.”
    Fortunato sighed and closed his eyes. He had no reason to like Digger Downs. The man was, at best, an obnoxious pest. But over the years he’d tried to learn how to put such feelings away. He opened his eyes to see Dogen observing him with silent reproof. His master knew that he was letting himself get caught up in a swirl of unpleasant emotion. Yet again.
    “Digger,” Fortunato said patiently, “pretend that this is an isolated monastery on a secluded mountain top in far north Japan.”
    “Man, I don’t have to pretend,” Digger said. “It was Hell getting here.”
    “We don’t get much news about the outside world.”
    “Excellent!” Digger beamed. “Then I can get your exclusive reaction to the news regarding your son.”
    “My son?” Fortunato asked. Suddenly, his stomach felt as if it had dropped out of his abdomen. He had never seen his son. The last time he’d seen Peregrine, weeks before entering the monastery, she’d been heavy with their child. Up until then he hadn’t even known that she was pregnant. He’d told her that he’d be there for her and the child. And then he’d gone into the monastery. Not even Tachyon, who’d come in person begging for his help, not even the telegram announcing the death of his mother, had induced him to leave his sanctuary.
    And now...
    He looked at Digger. The man was smiling, but that didn’t mean he was the bearer of good news. He cared for the story, not the implications the story might have for those caught up in it. It seemed unlikely that he’d travel all this way to impart good news... whatever that could possibly be.
    Fortunato had a sudden premonition that had nothing to do with the powers he’d left behind so long ago, but had everything to do with being a wild carder. And the parent of one.
    “Has,” his voice suddenly went raspy and he swallowed hard, “has his card turned?”
    Downs nodded. “Yes—and,” he added quickly as he saw the expression on Fortunato’s face, “don’t worry. The boy lucked out. He turned over an ace.”
    “An ace!” Fortunato felt a sudden rush of relief underlain with pride he quickly realized was unjustified. The boy had come