Hidden Talents

adjustment to one of the instruments. “Timing and precision is everything in beer, just as it is in the mathematical universe. In the brewing process, one sees a reflection of the interaction of various cosmic vectors. In beer, the forces of destruction, change, and creation are mirrored on a symbolic scale that can be appreciated and comprehended by the human brain.”
    “I'll drink to that.” Caleb braced one hand against the wall, hooked his jacket over his shoulder and glanced at his wristwatch. “Speaking of time, do you want to tell me why you asked me to come in here, Priestly? I assume there was something other than cosmic forces and beer that you wanted to discuss.”
    “What's your hurry? Going somewhere?”
    “As a matter of fact, I am.”
    Quinton frowned. “You're leaving town?”
    “For a while.”
    “Serenity going with you?”
    “No,” Caleb said. “She's not.”
    “You coming back anytime soon?”
    “I expect to return tonight. Why?”
    “Just wondered.” Quinton relaxed and went back to fussing with the brewing equipment. “Well, that's all right, then.”
    “I'm glad you approve. Now, what was it you wanted?”
    “Two things.” Quinton fiddled with a valve. “First, I wanted to thank you for what you did last night.”
    “You mean what Blade and I did, don't you? And we didn't do anything except get lucky when Kincaid slipped and fell into one of the vision pools.”
    Quinton chuckled. “Right. He fell into the pool.”
    “It's the truth.”
    “Hey.” Quinton held up a palm. “Whatever you and Blade say happened in that cave, happened. You won't get any argument from me or anyone else in town.”
    “I'm pleased to hear that, because what Blade and I told you is the truth. Kincaid went for his flashlight, slipped and fell. Pure luck. Good for us, bad for him.”
    “As to that, who's to say whether it was luck or something else. Perhaps he was the victim of colliding geometric planes.”
    “That's certainly one logical explanation,” Caleb said.
    “But as it happens, I wasn't talking about how Kincaid died, crucial as that particular event was to all of us. I was referring to the aftermath.”
    Caleb raised his brows. “Aftermath?”
    “The way you dealt with Sheriff Banner and all the rest.”
    “I just answered a few questions.”
    “You did a lot more than that.” Quinton rested an arm on top of one of the small stainless steel vats and stroked his beard. “Things could have gotten confused, what with Blade involved. He doesn't interact well with the official representatives of established authority.”
    “Somehow, I had gathered that impression.”
    “The thought of Blade trying to explain last night's events to Sheriff Banner gives one pause.”
    Caleb thought of how Banner might have responded to Blade's elaborate conspiracy theories. He couldn't help it, he grinned. “Yes, it does. Might have been interesting.”
    “Might have been an unmitigated disaster for all concerned,” Quinton muttered. “At the very least, there would have been a hell of a lot more paperwork. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that someone might have tried to take Blade into custody for questioning or stuff him into a mental institution for observation. He couldn't have handled that.”
    “No,” Caleb agreed. “He wouldn't have done very well in either of those situations.”
    “What I'm trying to say is, thanks for saving Serenity and Zone, and thanks for keeping Blade out of trouble.” Quinton's teeth showed in his beard. “You're not so bad for a business consultant.”
    “All part of the service.”
    “Item two on my agenda today,” Quinton continued, “involves politics.”
    “Personally, I never touch the stuff.”
    “Neither do I. However, politics is an inescapable fact of life.”
    “I've never thought of politics as having cosmic implications,” Caleb said.
    “It does. So do the forces of change. And we've got change coming to Witt's End. A town's like a star. It's got to keep burning at a certain temperature or it dies. This town was dying, taking its time about it, I admit, but definitely dying until Serenity opened her grocery store three years ago.”
    “That started the process of change?”
    “It stopped the decaying process,” Quinton said. “Now things are starting to move forward again. This mail order idea of Serenity's may actually give us something resembling a real economy.”
    “The shining star of Witt's End burns brightly