Winter's Tale

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Of all the tengu under my command, Tomiki Hirokazu was my favorite sparring partner. He was not the fastest, or the strongest, or even the most skilled. But when he fought, he fought with everything. He focused on it with such single-mindedness that nothing else existed for him. His world was restricted to himself and his opponent. That it was only a practice bout meant nothing. That he was sparring against his liege meant nothing. There was only the fight itself.

 

We had been practicing for some time, and I had reached the same state. He cuts at my face and I do not see the sword, do not think about the sword, merely allow myself to move. Step in, turn, redirect his momentum, bring my own blade up to threaten. He steps back and I follow, step in, pivot and execute a floating hip throw. He hits the ground but almost immediately regains his feet. He is too zealous in his counterattack, too impatient. I give way before him, my movements fluid, calm. He cuts, cuts, cuts, and each strike comes closer to me than the last, until I am only inches from the weapon.

 

Then he overcommits, placing too much weight on his leading foot. I don’t consciously observe or react to the mistake, so much as I sense and recognize the movement. He expects me to retreat, as I have been doing, but instead I step into him, moving inside the arc of his cut. My own blade taps against his ribcage and he nods, conceding defeat.

 

I stepped back, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, giving myself a chance to return to normal. That mental state—perceiving without consciously recognizing what you observe, responding without consciously choosing to act—is the strongest and most efficient attitude to have in combat. But it can be difficult and bewildering to sustain for very long.

 

Tomiki could enter that state of mind without even seeming to notice the difference. I could only envy him for that. One day, if he developed his skills to match, he would be my superior in a duel. One day. Perhaps then he would challenge me for my mountain, or go and find another place to call his own.

 

“Kikuchi,” a voice called after a few moments, reminding me that I was not alone. “The jarl is here to see you.”

 

I opened my eyes and turned to face them. He was indeed standing there, watching me with an expression of interest. Standing by his side was Matsuda Kimiko, the only kitsune in my service. I had known it was her, simply by her greeting. None of my tengu would have addressed me so casually.

 

I didn’t bother chastising her for it. She might be subdued by the standards of her people, but Matsuda was still a kitsune. She’d been raised in a very different culture, where formal courtesies were not only unusual, but typically used as insults. Expecting that not to have an effect on her behavior would be absurd.

 

“Thank you, Matsuda,” I said, sheathing my sword and walking to the side of the field where they were standing. “You may go.”

 

She nodded to me, not deeply enough to call it a bow but enough that the distinction was minor, and then turned and left. The jarl was left standing by himself as I approached.

 

“Dai-tengu,” he said, nodding slightly less deeply than Matsuda had. “I apologize if I interrupted.”

 

“Winter jarl,” I said. “We were sparring. You are welcome to join us.”

 

“I would be honored, but I’m short on time at the moment.”

 

Was he being dishonest? I considered the possibility for a moment, but only for a moment. He wasn’t the type to lie without a reason; if he didn’t want to participate, he would have simply said so.

 

Unfortunate. I’d seen him fight, and it had been interesting to observe. His style was straightforward, almost brutal in its simplicity. I was curious to see how my techniques would fare against such a radically different approach.

 

“I understand,” I said. “Come, let us sit and you can tell me what you want.”

 

“What makes you think I want anything?” he asked. His tone was hostile, but touched with amusement, as though this was something he’d often had cause to say. Perhaps it was; I would hardly know.

 

“As you just said, your time is short,” I said, sitting on a fallen tree in the shade. I drew a dipper of water from the barrel there and drank some of it, then offered it to the jarl. He sipped at it before returning it to the barrel. “Why else would you have come here at such a time, if not because you want something?”

 

“That’s fair,” he said. “But for once, I actually don’t. This is more of…I guess you’d call it an offer, really.”

 

“An offer,” I repeated. “What manner of offer?”

 

“Well, look at it like this,” he said, with what was probably intended to be a disarming smile. “You know that Sojobo has a major hate on for that woman that was in town back when the territory war was going on last month, right? De Sousa, her name was?”

 

“I am aware of this,” I said cautiously. “I fail to see the relevance.”

 

“She’s hunting supernatural things,” he said. “So I figured she probably puts most of her effort into hiding from supernatural means of locating her. It only makes sense, right? So then I called in a favor from the Khan, and he talked to some people and got various governments to start looking for her. Nothing official, nothing she’d hear about, just people paying attention to things they otherwise might not have.”

 

“I still don’t see the relevance.”

 

He leaned forward, his smile growing wider and more predatory. “I got her,” he said quietly. “She’s in Singapore, and she’s going to be there for at least a day. So here in about an hour, I’m going to get together with some other people and we’re going to go take her down.”

 

“And you want me to be a part of this group,” I said, understanding what he was getting at.

 

He shrugged. “I at least wanted to make the offer. I figured, you know, Sojobo is basically your boss, right? Or your shogun, or whatever you want to call him. Considering how personal this is for him, I think coming to help would probably be good for your standing with him.”

 

“It would also give you a chance to see me fight,” I pointed out. “Possibly allowing you to learn something that you could then use to harm me.”

 

“Yes,” he said, not seeming to take offense. “And that goes the other way, too.” He sighed and stood up. “Look, dai-tengu,” he said. “I’m not saying we have to like each other. I’m not even saying we have to get along with each other. All I’m saying is that at this point, it’s looking like we’re going to be stuck with each other. And it might be better for everyone involved, or at least more stable, if we can find some way to coexist.” He stood up, placing a scrap of paper on the log. “That’s where we’re meeting up,” he said. “Come if you want to.”

 

“Do you truly believe that is possible?” I asked, before he could walk away. “That you and I could coexist in peace, without an enemy to unite us?”

 

He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding tired. “If you’d have asked me a few years ago, I’d have said not a chance. That I was too much of a werewolf to share territory, even if we are keeping ourselves separate. Now, well.” He shrugged. “I have to hope we can do better, or what’s the point?”

 

I nodded. “You leave in an hour, you said?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Very well,” I said, picking up the piece of paper. “I will be there.”

---

 

I had expected a fairly large group, but when I approached the rendezvous point, the only people I could see waiting for me were the jarl, and the kitsune and the hound who appeared to be his closest advisors. “Is this all?” I asked, looking around curiously.

 

“The others will meet us there,” the jarl said. “Are you ready to head out?”

 

“Yes. How are we traveling?”

 

“Otherside portal,” he said, not sounding pleased. “Anything else is too slow.”

 

I had expected the jarl to be the one to actually make that portal, but it was actually the kitsune that began working on it. She was skilled with that style of magic, forming the structure of the portal in only a few minutes.

 

I watched with interest as she did. I knew the basic concept underlying the technique, but it wasn’t one that my people commonly used. It seemed disrespectful to the gods, to abuse the world they had built by exploiting a loophole in such a way.

 

But it was efficient, and I understood that sometimes it was necessary to put efficiency above aesthetics. So when the kitsune finished her working, I followed the jarl through the portal.

 

I knew from experience that it wouldn’t be pleasant, so I wasn’t surprised to lose consciousness. Glancing into the void can be stressful, even when you’ve spent much of your life trying to embrace it on a philosophical level.

 

The kitsune and the jarl evidently used this means of travel more often than I, as both of them were already standing before I woke up. The hound wasn’t standing, and she appeared more uncomfortable than the other two, but she was also conscious before I was. “The next portal should be open soon,” the jarl said as I stood, although I wasn’t sure how he knew I was awake. “Reynard’s opening it from the other side.”

 

About two minutes later, he nodded with some satisfaction. “There we go,” he said, walking towards what seemed like any other patch of air between two massive trees. He disappeared as he passed between them.

 

I must have been staring, because the kitsune smirked at me as she walked into the same gap. I was watching closely enough this time to see the exact point at which she ceased to be in the same place I was. There was something in the air there, a sort of haziness, but nothing like the void I was more accustomed to seeing within portals.

 

The hound still didn’t look happy, but she stood and growled at me until I did the same. Then she began herding me towards what was apparently the next portal, her attitude impatient.

 

This one was less harsh than the last; I didn’t even lose consciousness, so much as briefly drift through a sort of grey in-between state before returning to full awareness.

 

“Is this the place?” the jarl was asking, somewhere near me. I blinked and the visual came into focus. He was looking at a small building, apparently a garage of some kind, and his stance suggested that he was expecting to be attacked.

 

“This is it,” the person he was talking to agreed. This person looked like a bipedal fox, although he was taller than me. I had seen kitsune take a similar form, but there was something odd about one with only a single tail. I blinked again, shaking my head, but the image refused to resolve into something that made sense.

 

It took me a moment to recognize that this must be Reynard. The fox was showing his true colors this evening, more openly than before.

 

The only other person present was Sojobo. My liege was standing at a slight distance, drumming his fingers on the hilt of his sword.

 

“Is she alone in there?” the jarl asked, looking around.

 

“Yep,” the fox agreed. “Shockingly, the psycho killer doesn’t have many friends. I’m about ninety percent sure there’s nobody else in there.”

 

“Good,” the jarl said, with more satisfaction than I had expected. Had he been harmed by this woman, or did he have some other personal stake in the matter? I didn’t remember having heard about something like that, but then, he wasn’t the type to have said anything. I hadn’t spent much time with the jarl, but I had gotten that impression very clearly.

 

He started for the door, and was almost immediately stopped by the fox’s grip on his shoulder. It looked casual, but from the way the jarl jerked to a stop, that grip must have had less give in it than iron.

 

“She does have plenty of traps,” the fox said dryly. “Including some that even I thought were unnecessarily vicious.”

 

“Right,” the jarl said, glancing in my direction. He seemed flustered, perhaps chagrined at having been chastised by the fox. “Let’s do this smart. I don’t want her getting away, which means we want people watching the exits. Dai-tengu Kikuchi, if you would be so kind?”

 

I regarded him for a moment, then shrugged. It wasn’t a bad tactical decision, and of everyone here, I had the least to lose if this went wrong. “I would be honored,” I said, drawing my blade. I had only a vague understanding of the threat we were dealing with, but my understanding suggested that I didn’t want to take it lightly. If de Sousa tried to escape, I would want to be prepared.

 

“Good,” the jarl said, gesturing slightly for the fox to proceed. The fox did so, entering through the same door that the jarl had attempted to use a moment ago. I wasn’t sure if he did something about the traps, or they were further in, but nothing untoward happened when he entered. Sojobo followed a moment later, sword in hand, followed by the jarl and the hound.

 

I looked again to confirm, but it was as I’d thought: the kitsune was not with them. A quick glance didn’t find her outside, either. When I focused on it I could feel the telltale glimmer of kitsune magic, suggesting that she was also watching the door, but didn’t want to be seen.

 

They were using me as the bait, the sentry that our quarry was supposed to see. She would not necessarily think to look for the second guard, which meant that she wouldn’t necessarily think to hide from more than one. It was a simple tactic, but not a thoughtless one.

 

I did what I could to help, not looking for the kitsune any further. I might not have any stake in this matter myself, but my liege did, and I wasn’t going to have it said that I had done something to interfere with him claiming it.

 

The next two minutes were quiet. Apparently the fox was able to deal with whatever traps the quarry had set up; as I understood it, she wasn’t the type to use a quiet trap, so if they had triggered one, I would have known about it.

 

Then there was a hint of movement within the garage. I looked closer, and a moment later I saw a human female approaching. She was carrying or wearing a variety of trinkets, all of which felt like magic of one sort or another, but I hardly noticed them. I was more struck by her bearing, her aura, than anything.

 

In my youth, I’d heard stories about a great many monsters. Most of them are fictional, and most of the rest have always been uncommon, so that I never bothered to learn a great deal about them. I couldn’t even recall the name of the one I was thinking of at that moment. They were known for possessing people, wearing them like garments. You’d look at one of those people and they would look normal, look like someone you knew, until you saw them from behind and realized that they’d been hollowed out, that they were just a husk.

 

This was like that, on an entirely different level. Physically, this woman seemed fine. Not only intact, but healthy; as far as I could tell she was entirely fit.

 

Physically.

 

But on another level? She was a husk, animated without being meaningfully alive. She’d gone so far beyond obsession that it hollowed her, burned out every trace of life or passion or beauty and replaced it all with hate. Even a glance was enough for me to see that.

 

And then she took another step, moving closer to me, and I realized that she was my friend. It was the strangest sensation; on a mental level I knew that she was a stranger, and I recognized that she was almost certainly the quarry I was here to watch for.

 

But when I looked at her, or thought of her, I knew that she was my friend. No, more than that; she was my friend on such a profound level and to such an overwhelming extent that all other friendships might as well not exist, in comparison with it.

 

She took another step forward, moving within reach of me. I saw a delicate silver chain dangling from her fingers, with a large black stone at the end of it. Some part of me recognized it as a deadly weapon, and told me that I should move or do something to counter it. Most of me, however, was incapable of perceiving it as a threat. My friend would not do anything to threaten me.

 

She flicked her wrist, drawing the stone up into her gloved hand, and then tossed it at me. I watched it come, feeling oddly numb despite knowing that it was about to kill me.

 

At the last moment, I managed to convince myself that it was a prank. My new friend was pulling a prank on me.

 

She would be disappointed if I didn’t duck. I would be a boring friend if I could be pranked so easily.

 

I could make my new friend happy by getting out of the way.

 

In that context, I was able to move. The stone passed by my head, so close that it displaced my feathers with its passing. Then it swung down to dangle, spinning, at the end of its chain.

 

My friend paused. “Interesting,” she said, and I felt an odd warmth in my chest. I had done right. My friend had been pleased; my actions had interested her.

 

“Don’t move,” she said, drawing the stone up into her hand again. I watched, and knew on an intellectual level that I was doomed this time. I wouldn’t be able to play that kind of mental game again, not when she’d given me an explicit directive.

 

Except that a moment later, before she could kill me, we both clearly heard the sound of gunfire. Neither of us was hit, but she startled slightly, and a moment later I heard movement within the garage.

 

“Damn,” my friend said, looking over her shoulder. A moment later she began to run away, moving faster than a human could.

 

It took about ten seconds before that irrational feeling of friendship began to fade. I shook my head, clearing it, and then shouted, “She’s out here, getting away,” as my mind continued clearing.

 

The kitsune must have been affected similarly, I thought, or she’d have shot our quarry. As it was, she must have been able to frame what she did as helping the quarry in some way. Warning her that there was someone watching, perhaps.

 

In any case, this was something that the others needed to know about. So I waited for them rather than running off after the quarry, although it chafed at me to know that she was getting away. Hopefully the kitsune was following her, preventing her from making a clean getaway.

 

Almost a minute later, the others exited the garage in the same order they had gone in. “She ran that way,” I said, indicating. All four of them instantly began moving in the direction I had indicated, and I had to run to keep up. “She’s got something that makes you think of her as a friend,” I said. “You can’t do anything to harm her.”

 

“That won’t be a problem,” the jarl said. He sounded amused, if bitter.

 

The hound lead the way as we chased after the quarry. Apparently the incredible speed she’d shown was short-lived, because we caught her up soon, in a dirty alley less than a mile from the garage.

 

The jarl and the hound stepped into the alley first. The jarl was holding his sword, a weapon which I’d been given to understand was considerably more dangerous than it seemed. Something about having been made with the intention of killing and destroying things. It seemed to me that was essentially true of all weapons, but I wasn’t a swordsmith.

 

“Hey,” he shouted. “De Sousa, right?”

 

She paused and looked over her shoulder long enough to say, “Stop following me!” I drifted to a stop, unable to disobey, but the jarl and the hound both kept moving. For my part, I made sure that my blade was drawn and waited. I thought I knew what she would try, and I also thought I might know how to respond.

 

“That’s an interesting toy,” the jarl said. “Makes people regard you as a friend, right?”

 

“Yes,” the quarry said, slowing. She sounded cautious, and she was watching the jarl carefully. “Why didn’t it work on you?”

 

“Oh, it did,” the jarl said cheerfully. “It’s just that I’ve had to kill friends before. It’s kind of a given, for a werewolf. You have to learn how to keep that part of your mind separate.”

 

The quarry nodded and then swung the stone at his head, apparently hoping to take him by surprise. If so it failed; his sword was ready, slicing neatly through the chain, and he dodged aside from the stone as it flew away. I didn’t see where it went, but my liege did; he was on it almost before it fell, holding it close. My understanding was that it was supposed to kill anyone who touched it, but I wasn’t surprised when it did nothing of the sort. My liege was not an easy man to kill.

 

The jarl cut at the quarry without slowing, and I almost moved to protect her, still trapped by whatever magic was interfering with my perceptions. I managed to restrain the impulse, watching as she leaned away from him. A moment later the fox stepped in the other end of the alley, holding a knife in one hand. His other hand was raised as well, his attitude suggesting that it was armed although I couldn’t see anything.

 

The quarry, disarmed and outnumbered, stepped away and turned to flee. Seeing the fox blocking her path, she paused and then threw something at the ground. I felt no hint of magic to suggest what it was, but a moment later there was a loud noise not unlike an explosion, and a very bright flash of light. The jarl and the hound both reeled away, clearly incapacitated, and the quarry bolted in my direction in the window of opportunity this afforded.

 

She clearly didn’t perceive me as a threat, knowing that I’d been incapable of attacking her before. The jarl and the hound were still staggering, the fox seemed hardly better off, and my liege was occupied with the stone. I hadn’t seen the kitsune again, and in any case she’d also been unable to threaten the quarry.

 

Not so strange, then, that she didn’t produce another weapon as she ran, focusing instead on speed. I watched her approach, clearing my mind as she did, so that I felt only a blank detachment. There was still the same feeling that she was my best and only friend, but I made my mind empty so that it was more an afterthought than an important focus of my thoughts.

 

As the quarry neared me, she inexplicably lost her footing. There didn’t seem to be anything obstructing her, but she stumbled over her steps, almost losing her feet entirely. She recovered quickly, but for a single moment she was stumbling, too busy catching her balance to adjust or dodge.

 

I couldn’t choose to attack that moment of weakness. The mental paralysis she induced was too strong. But I could keep my mind empty, allowing my body to act instinctively without consciously deciding to do so.

 

Honed by endless hours of practice and training, my instinct was as polished and practiced as a dancer’s. My blade reached out and licked at her throat, blood blossoming crimson in its wake like the opening of a flower in the spring. I followed the weapon, slipping my hip under hers and sending her to the ground before she could recover her balance.

 

I felt a surge of shame and grief as I did so. I didn’t recognize what I was doing, consciously, until it had already happened, but when I did the shame at having betrayed my friend in such a manner was intense. I stood still, almost paralyzed by the intensity of the feeling.

 

Then, a moment or two later, it began to fade. Not even magic, it would seem, could make me regard a corpse as my dearest friend.

 

The jarl reached me a moment later. He regarded the quarry for a moment, then nodded in my direction. “Excellent work, dai-tengu,” he said. Then he knelt and carefully removed the quarry’s head. I didn’t object to this. It was slightly shameful, perhaps, to treat the body of a fallen enemy in such a way, but on this occasion I thought it could be tolerated in the name of expedience. It was best not to take chances with an enemy like that.

 

About a minute later all of us were standing there, looking at the body of the quarry. “Thank you,” my liege said. “To have finally recovered my love is…thank you.”

 

“I am glad to have helped,” the jarl said. “I think the rest of what she stole should be returned to the Keepers for safekeeping. Unless anyone objects?”

 

“Nope,” the fox said, sliding one arm under the body. He lifted it easily, as though it weighed no more than a child. “I’ll see that they get them.”

 

The jarl was looking at him with a wary expression. “Promptly? And without removing anything?”

 

“Yes,” the fox said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take care of it without doing anything you wouldn’t approve of. You have my word.”

 

A few moments later, the jarl, the hound, the kitsune and I were alone in the alley. “Thank you, dai-tengu,” the jarl said. “I think we can provide transportation back to Colorado, if you would like.”

 

“Yes,” I said. “And thank you, jarl, for inviting me here. I think we have achieved something worthwhile today.”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think so.”

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“Hey,” I said after a few steps. “Scáthach. Are you listening?”

 

“Obviously,” a voice said from about six inches behind me. A moment later she stepped up and started walking next to me. She was dressed more casually than the last time I saw her, in a black T-shirt and cutoff jeans, and she looked very nearly human, but it hardly mattered. She was still the kind of beautiful that makes people start wars. People on the streets turned to stare as we passed, clearly wondering what a guy like me was doing walking with a woman like her.

 

“I thought you might be,” I said, trying to ignore the people watching. I felt uncomfortably exposed, being the focus of so much attention, but it wouldn’t be wise to let Scáthach know that.

 

She regarded me for a moment, her expression inscrutable. “That’s it?” she asked. “I was hoping for some kind of a reaction.”

 

I snorted. “Please. I’d have to be an idiot not to have seen this coming.” I took a few steps before saying, “I’m in a bad place.”

 

She smiled. “Indeed.”

 

“I’m going to assume you know pretty much everything that was said in there,” I said. “So I won’t bother explaining what I need. You already know.”

 

“Correct.”

 

“If I help you with your thing, will you make my problems with the Conclave go away?”

 

“That is hardly within my power,” she murmured, her voice dry and amused. “But I could certainly mitigate the harm caused by your current circumstance.”

 

“That’s not good enough,” I said. “I want a clearly defined agreement. Exactly what you want, and what you’re going to provide for me in return.”

 

“Very well,” Scáthach said, still sounding amused. “There is a single, very specific faction within my Court which is advocating a reckless offensive against the Daylight Court. I wish you to silence them, or enable me to do so without the negative consequences which I would currently incur. If you do so, I shall intervene with the members of the Zhang clan who have brought an accusation against you before the Conclave. While I cannot guarantee that my intervention will prevent this accusation from causing you harm, I can say that I have considerable influence with them, and it is my belief that I will be able to convince them to drop the charges.”

 

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I get it. So do you know which of your people are responsible?”

 

“Of course.”

 

I waited for several seconds before it became apparent that she had no intention of continuing. “Are you going to tell me who they are?”

 

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t believe that I will. You’re a resourceful man, after all. I have confidence that you are capable of finding that information yourself.” She smiled, the expression bright and cold and very, very scary. “Unless, of course, you would like to incur further debt in exchange for the knowledge.”

 

“No,” I said sourly. “That’s fine.” I nodded slowly. “Okay. I think we understand each other.”

 

“Yes,” she said, still smiling. “And you are working on a deadline, jarl. I recommend you get started.”

 

“I don’t get it,” I said, before she could disappear. “Why are you screwing me over like this?”

 

“Did you think we were friends?” she asked, sounding amused.

 

“Of course not. But I thought I was useful. Why would you take the chance of losing that usefulness?”

 

“You’re a weapon, child,” she said patiently. “A tool. And any tool is precisely as valuable as its utility. You have served a function in the past, and I expect you to do so in the future. But that is not sufficient reason not to make use of you in the present. An analogy, perhaps, will be more clear. A card has worth in its use, or in the threat of its use. A good card one cannot play is no more valuable than a bad card.”

 

“So…what? This is all a ploy to make sure that I keep being useful?”

 

Scáthach considered me. It reminded me uncomfortably of a hawk watching a prairie dog. “I have already explained,” she said. “If you have not listened, that is not my concern. Good day, jarl.”

 

“Right,” I sighed. “Good day, Queen.”

---

 

“You were right,” I said. “Scáthach found a way to screw me over.”

 

“I’ll try to contain my shock,” Aiko said, not looking away from the retro platformer she was playing. “Welcome home, by the way.”

 

“Thanks. Apparently the mages are pretty divided about what to do with me. I have two weeks to change their minds before the deciding vote is cast.”

 

“And Scáthach offered to make the problem go away if you do that favor for her?”

 

“Pretty much,” I sighed, sitting down next to her and scratching Snowflake’s ears.

 

“I figured it would go something like that,” Aiko said, turning the game off. “So where’s your cousin?”

 

“Decided to stay and look into signing up with the Guards. Probably just as well; I’ve been trying to keep her out of the politics, and this is about as political as it gets.”

 

She blinked. “The Guards? Seriously?”

 

I shrugged. “That’s what she said. Wouldn’t have been my first pick for her, but I guess I can understand it. Anyway, I was thinking I might go talk to Jacques, see if he has any information about who the people are in Scáthach’s Court that I’m supposed to be silencing. It might go better if you were there.”

 

“You have two weeks,” she said incredulously. “Don’t you think it can wait a day?”

 

“Considering what happened the last time I had a deadline like that,” I said dryly, “I’d rather not waste more time than I have to.”

 

“Fair enough,” she said reluctantly. “I just want it on record that this is not how I wanted to spend my morning.”

 

I think we can all agree with that sentiment, Snowflake said, standing up and sauntering off towards the stairs.

---

 

Jacques answered his door after only thirty seconds of pounding, which might have been a new record. That seemed a little odd, given that it was somewhere around four in the morning locally, but I supposed that he probably hadn’t gone to bed yet. Certainly he looked like he’d been on a three-day bender; even by his standards, his eyes were impressively bloodshot.

 

“Cupcake,” he said. “And Shrike. What the hell do you want?”

 

“Information,” I said. “As usual. Now let us in already, we aren’t talking business out here.”

 

“Fine,” he grunted, undoing the six chains on the door. “Hurry up, it’s too fucking late for this shit.”

 

“You’re telling me?” Aiko said, snorting. She strode in with an assurance I could only envy; I walked gingerly in Jacques’s apartment, and Snowflake was seriously reluctant to walk at all.

 

“Okay,” Jacques said, grabbing a fifth of vodka off the table. “What are you here for?”

 

“There’s a faction in the Midnight Court that’s pushing for a new offensive against Daylight,” I said. “I need to know who they are and how I can get to them.”

 

He snorted, spraying vodka out his nose. Snowflake and I both flinched away a little. “Now what the fuck makes you think I’m willing to deal in that kind of shit?” he demanded.

 

“Money,” Aiko said dryly. “Lots of it.”

 

“You don’t get it, Cupcake. You want to know about mages, werewolves, that kind of thing? Sure, screw it, whatever. But the fae? Those motherfuckers hold grudges. They don’t make the kind of money that would convince me to stick my nose into their business on the level you’re talking about.”

 

“This is sanctioned,” I said. “Personal request of Scáthach.”

 

“That’s even worse!” Jacques shouted. “Jesus, man, you just don’t get this, do you? Look, I’m not doing it, and that’s final.” He took another swig of vodka. “Not that it would matter if I were willing to help. My contacts in the Courts are strictly low-level. Bottom-feeders, thugs, general scum of the earth types, I’ve got you covered. Nobility? Not so much.”

 

“That’s not so helpful,” Aiko said. “We kinda need this info. Soonest.”

 

He leered at her. It made me want to take a shower, and it wasn’t even directed at me. “Well, Cupcake,” he drawled. “I guess you need to go home, don’t you?”

 

I had no idea what he was talking about, but Aiko’s reaction was instant. “No,” she said. “Hell no. Fuck that, there’s no way I’m going back there. Not after what happened last time.”

 

Jacques shrugged. “Suit yourself. Look, Cupcake, you know I love you and all that, but I don’t have what you want and I don’t have the contacts to get it. You go there, I guarantee you’ll find somebody who does. Now, if that’s all, get the hell out.”

 

I wasn’t going to argue.

---

 

“Okay,” I said when we hit the street. “So what was he talking about there at the end?”

 

“The Clearinghouse,” she said sullenly.

 

I waited a moment, then rolled my eyes when it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything else. “And what’s the Clearinghouse?”

 

“Look,” she said. “You know I used to run with the Courts.”

 

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask how you got out.”

 

“I didn’t,” she said grimly. “Not clean. Anyway, this is all tied up with that. I wasn’t in the good part of the Courts; I was hanging out with the scumbags, the shady types.”

 

“I can picture that.”

 

“It isn’t hard, is it?” Aiko said, grinning. “So while I was hanging out with them, I spent a lot of time at the Clearinghouse. If you want to buy something you can’t get anywhere else, that’s where you go.”

 

“Wait a second,” I said. “I thought that, if you wanted to buy something on the Otherside, you went to the Grand Market.”

 

“Sure. But the Market has rules. No weapons of mass destruction, no obvious contraband. You can’t trade slaves there, and the indentureship contracts are pretty heavily regulated. That sort of thing.”

 

I was starting to get the picture. “And the Clearinghouse doesn’t have those rules?”

 

“Exactly. You can make deals there that would get you shot anywhere else. Nothing’s off limits, and there’s nobody looking over your shoulder.”

 

“Okay,” I said. “So what happened the last time you were there that was so terrible?”

 

“Yeah,” Aiko said reluctantly. “About that. I’ve told you I used to hang out with a slave trader.”

 

“The one that bred half-trolls?”

 

She winced. “Yeah, that’s the one. I knew him for a few years. I guess I thought we were pretty good friends. I managed to convince myself his business wasn’t that bad. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about what went on with it. I didn’t want to know.”

 

“And then you went to the Clearinghouse with him,” I guessed.

 

She nodded. “Yeah. We were on the way to a date, sort of. He had to stop and finalize a deal. I…got a look at some aspects of what he did that I hadn’t let myself see before that.” She shrugged. “So I stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Then I stabbed two of his business partners and one of the customers, and shot half a dozen other vendors on my way out. Good times all around.”

 

“Ah. So what does this have to do with you getting away from the Courts?”

 

Aiko shrugged. “After that I was pretty done with the whole thing. So I went to Ryujin, and I told him I wanted out. He told me what it would cost, and I said yes. He made sure nobody tried to drag me back into it.”

 

“What’d it cost you?” I asked. “Maybe I could make a similar deal.”

 

“Ten years of service,” she said. “And a few other things. I’ll tell you the details if it ever comes up. Like I said, nobody gets away clean. You can trade it in for another cage, but that’s about it.”

 

“Yeah. I figured it was something like that. Well, so much for that option. I guess asking around in the Courts is the next step?”

 

Aiko gave me a confused look. “Aren’t we going to the Clearinghouse first? There’s almost certainly someone there who can help.”

 

“I thought you said you weren’t going back. And after what happened, it probably isn’t safe, is it?”

 

“Screw that,” she said sharply. “I don’t need coddled. If that’s where we need to go, that’s where we’re going.”

 

I wanted to argue, but I could tell she wouldn’t take it well. So I just shrugged and said, “Fine. You’re driving.”

---

 

A short jaunt through one of the sleazier backwaters of the Otherside later, we were standing in the antechamber of the Clearinghouse.

 

It was a small room, not much bigger than a closet, but the roof was high enough to be lost in shadow. The air was cool, and smelled strongly of industrial-strength room freshener.

 

“Well, they haven’t changed this place much,” Aiko said, walking over to the door. It looked like little more than a concrete slab set into the concrete wall, but it swung open of its own accord before she reached it. “Let’s see if we can find someone I know.”

 

The main trading floor of the Clearinghouse was a strange, ominous place. It was cavernous; walls and pillars broke up the lines of sight, but the air currents suggested that it was at least the size of a small stadium. We were standing on a relatively narrow catwalk, with four more layers below us and at least as many above. I could only see them by looking for the dim, widely-spaced lanterns that provided the only illumination.

 

There were a lot of shadows there, and I was quite sure that we were being watched from some of them. It was only with difficulty that I kept myself from looking over my shoulder as we followed Aiko out onto the walkway.

 

We passed a number of stalls as we walked, set into alcoves in the walls or crouched in the shadows between lanterns. They were staffed by an astonishing variety of creatures, many of which I didn’t recognize, none of which looked friendly. None of the ones I looked at had any signage, or indication of what goods or services were available. Clearly, if you had to ask, you didn’t need to know.

 

Okay, Snowflake said, peering over the edge of the catwalk at the next level, nearly thirty feet below. This is more like it. This is what a black market should look like.

 

“This level mostly deals in smuggling,” Aiko said, looking around as we walked. “I’m hoping there’s someone here that knows me from back then. They might be able to tell us who to ask.”

 

“But do they want to?” I asked. “I didn’t exactly get the impression that you left on good terms.”

 

“Not all of them hate me,” she said dryly. “There are two or three that are sort of friends, and a handful that still owe me favors.

 

For the next several minutes, Aiko led us in a wandering path around the narrow walkways of the Clearinghouse. I didn’t bother trying to keep track of where we were going, or the people we passed; there wasn’t much I could contribute, in any case. I focused on keeping an eye out for trouble instead, in case we ran into someone that didn’t remember Aiko fondly. This was shitty territory for a fight, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I could try to make sure we weren’t caught by surprise.

 

We’d been walking for around five minutes when a female voice called, “Aiko? Is that you?”

 

Aiko looked in the direction of the voice and winced. “Trouble?” I asked immediately, reaching for a weapon.

 

“Not exactly,” she said, walking towards the stall she’d been called from. “It’s just….well, this ought to be entertaining.” She did not sound entertained.

 

The stall was one of the smaller ones I’d seen, barely large enough for a person to stand behind it, with an orange silk canopy that served no apparent purpose. The woman standing behind it could blend in anywhere with a sizable Mediterranean population, though her attitude would make her stand out, as would the elaborate domino mask. She came across as the sort of person I could picture an adolescent Aiko hanging around with, and that was a pretty major statement.

 

“Hi, Fiona,” Aiko said as we walked up. “How’s business?”

 

Fiona shrugged, the motion just loose enough to make me wonder if her shoulders were articulated like a human’s. “It’s business. Long time, no see. Who’s this, your latest boy toy?”

 

“Something like that. Listen, do you think you could do me a favor?”

 

“For you?” Fiona said, grinning. Her teeth sparkled a little too brightly in the dim light, and I realized they were inlaid with silver. “Of course. But come on, you just got here. Don’t you want to tell me what kinds of trouble you’ve gotten into in the last decade or two?”

 

“Yeah, but this is kind of time-sensitive. Look, I promise I’ll get in touch, but right now we need to keep moving.”

 

“That’s fair. What do you need?”

 

“We’re in the market for information,” Aiko said. “Something fairly high up in Scáthach’s Court. Do you know where we might find something like that?”

 

Fiona frowned. “I don’t really deal in secrets, Aiko. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, but I thought you might know someone who does.”

 

Fiona sighed. “Two levels up, three walkways south. Look for the guy with the eyepatch. But I’m not endorsing him, you hear me? He’s not a friend, just someone I do business with occasionally.”

 

“That’s fine. Thanks, Fiona. I owe you one.”

 

“Don’t mention it. And don’t be a stranger, you hear me?”

---

 

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said, as Aiko led us on another meandering route through the maze of the Clearinghouse. Fiona’s directions had seemed fairly clear to me, but apparently actually getting there was a good deal more complicated. “She seemed pleasant.”

 

“Yeah. A little too much so, sometimes. She’s…bubbly. I don’t really do bubbly.”

 

“I could see that. I guess she’s one of the ones you said was a friend?”

 

Aiko nodded. “I used to work for her as a courier. She specializes in moving small, high-value items. Here’s our way up,” she said, gesturing at a nearby ladder.

 

I carried Snowflake up the ladder and we started meandering back across the catwalks. I had to wonder about whoever had built this place; this setup was inconvenient on all sorts of levels. Several of the bridges were rickety, and few of them had any kind of railings, even disregarding the impossibility of taking a direct route anywhere.

 

It was surprisingly easy to find the person Fiona had pointed us towards. He was a slender Sidhe standing behind a battered oak table, visually unremarkable except for brilliant red hair and a greenish eyepatch covering half his face.

 

I would have hesitated, trying to make sure we were in the right place, but Aiko walked straight up to his table, ignoring the people standing around. Looking at them, I was pretty sure that around three or four were a little too casual to just be loitering. Bodyguards or something similar, most likely.

 

“I hear you might be able to do us a favor,” Aiko said, leaning on the table.

 

The man on the other side smiled. It looked more like a gash carved across his face than an expression of pleasure. “I do many favors,” he said. “What sort of favor might you require?”

 

“My associates and I have heard rumors of a certain group among the Sidhe,” Aiko said. “Members of Scáthach’s Court, as we’ve heard it. This group has recently been making rather provocative statements about escalating hostilities with the Seelie Court.”

 

“I’ve heard similar rumors,” he said, sounding blandly disinterested. “What of it?”

 

Aiko’s smile was no friendlier than his, but for rather different reasons. His expression looked like it had been cut into his face; hers looked like one you’d wear while you did the cutting. “We would quite like to have a conversation with these Sidhe. We think it would be quite productive for everyone concerned.”

 

He nodded once. “This is a favor I can provide. What might you provide in return?”

 

Aiko leaned closer and whispered something in his ear. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw his eyes widen. She leaned back, looking self-satisfied, and he nodded again. “That will be quite sufficient,” he said, producing a scrap of paper and a quill from somewhere. He scratched a short, almost illegible note on the paper and handed it to her.

 

She glanced at it and then folded it and put it in her pocket. “Excellent. A pleasure doing business.” She turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

 

“Is that it?” I asked, falling in beside her before she’d taken more than a couple steps. Snowflake was sticking close to my heels. She felt vaguely discomfited, but she hadn’t said anything, so I didn’t think it was too much of a problem.

 

“Yep,” Aiko said. “They’re having a meeting next week.”

 

“Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

 

“Sooner the better,” she agreed. “Didn’t expect this to go so smoothly, to be honest.”

 

Naturally, it was at exactly that moment that a voice whispered, “Hello, kitsune. It’s been a while.”

 

Aiko went very pale, and I didn’t have to ask what that voice meant.

 

This time, it was trouble.

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

“My investigations have not uncovered the responsible party,” Watcher continued, smiling at me the whole time. “It is plausible that the accused was responsible. As has been stated, the act was not inconsistent with his character. Arbiter, how do you vote?”

 

The man in the black robe regarded me for a long moment. “I would like to speak with the accused prior to casting my vote,” he said at last.

 

“Granted,” Prophet said. “A recess for discussion and refreshment is in order, I think. This Conclave will reconvene in a quarter-hour.”

 

Almost instantly, the room erupted into whispers. None of the conversations was that loud, but there were a lot of them, and the noise was considerable. I caught snatches of English, but they were fragmentary to say the least, and I couldn’t get any useful information out of them.

 

Arbiter glided across the stage toward me, moving so smoothly that I wasn’t entirely sure that he was actually walking. Whatever means of locomotion he was using, it was surprisingly quick; it only took him five seconds or so to reach my section of seating.

 

“Guards,” he said. “Your services are not presently needed. Kindly vacate the area, so that I may have a private discussion with the jarl.”

My escort wasted no time clearing out, leaving me alone with the mage. Up close, his appearance was a little bit unsettling, almost unnatural. He was tall enough to stand out in a crowd, but I doubted that he weighed any more than I did. His features were long and narrow, with dark hair and eyes; the result reminded me more than a little of Aiko.

 

A couple of seconds later, I felt a kinetic barrier snap into place around us. Arbiter didn’t make a big deal of it, or show any effort, but I was confident that it was still one of the strongest barriers I’d ever encountered. “There,” he said. “That should prevent us from being overheard.”

 

“Good,” I said, eyeing him warily. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was isolated with one of the strongest mages in the world, and he was ideally positioned to kill me without anyone realizing what had happened. It wouldn’t be hard for him to claim that I’d been threatening him, if no one could hear a thing we said.

 

“So,” he said, sitting down and facing me. “Did you murder Zhang Qiang? I will not take this as a confession or admission of guilt; I ask out of simple curiosity.”

 

“I have your word on that?”

 

“You do.”

 

“Then no,” I said. “I killed the bastard, but it wasn’t murder. Murder implies wrongdoing, and he deserved what he got.”

 

Arbiter considered me for a moment. “Interesting,” he said. “I wondered whether you might say something along those lines.”

 

“Did you really not know whether I was responsible?”

 

“Of course I knew,” he said dismissively. “We all know. I wanted to see whether you would try to deny it. It speaks well of you that you told the truth. This does place me in a rather interesting position, however.”

 

“How so?”

 

“As the name implies, my role is to resolve disputes,” he said. “Balancing the needs and desires of multiple parties is a large part of my duties. This time, however, there are a great many more interests at play than is usually the case. There a great many possible resolutions to this situation, most of which end poorly for you. For reasons of my own, I would prefer to find an alternative which does not end in your death.”

 

“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “So you’ll vote in my favor?”

 

“The situation is not that simple,” he said, shrugging. “Tell me, jarl, why have you been accused of this crime?”

 

I shrugged. “Zhang had a lot of friends in the clans, as I hear it, and I don’t. It isn’t that surprising.”

 

“Perhaps, but why now?” he pressed.

 

I sighed. “Scáthach has ties to most of the clans,” I said, feeling very tired. “I imagine that she arranged for them to make this happen right now. Pressure me into helping her with her problem.”

 

“In part,” Arbiter agreed. “But things are more complicated than that. Arranging for this to happen was as much a favor to you as anything. Giving you an opportunity. Do you understand?”

 

“Not really,” I admitted. “You’re speaking in riddles. I hate that.”

 

His lips twitched. “There is a reason for that, I promise you. One day you may understand it. Or not. It hardly matters, really. What is of immediate significance is this. You are in a precarious position at the moment, Winter Wolf-Born. You have made some foolish choices, and they will have consequences. To this point, those consequences have been mitigated by a great many factors. But now, you are tangled up in so many different plots that even a small movement on your part can have vast repercussions. I strongly recommend that you take the time, in the coming days, to think about what you are and are not willing to sacrifice. A storm is coming, and none of us will be able to weather it without change.”

 

“I don’t get it,” I said. “You and Scáthach both have talked about a storm on the horizon. But she’s a Faerie Queen, and you’re the Arbiter of the Conclave. What the hell is going on that neither of you could do anything to stop it?”

 

“I suspect you already know the answer to that question,” he said, standing. “I cannot save you from the consequences of your actions, Winter. What I can do is give you the chance to avoid them yourself. This conversation has convinced me that you’re worth that opportunity. If you take it, I think you can make it through. If not, you will most likely still survive, but the price will be considerable.”

 

He glided off before I could say anything else, the barrier collapsing just before he reached it. Ivanov and Neumann were in their chairs on either side of me almost before the barrier had fallen, although neither one seemed inclined to ask what Arbiter had to say. I got the impression that they might not want to know.

 

It was an agonizing ten minutes or so, waiting for the Conclave to reconvene. None of them had moved from their podiums, but I didn’t expect that they would say a word before the scheduled time, and I wasn’t disappointed. The whole time, I was agonizing over what would happen next. From what Arbiter said, I thought he might be about to say that he thought my plea of innocence had been rejected, in which case I would be in for a world of hurt. If the investigation went any further, I would almost certainly be convicted, in which case the best I could hope for was a quick death.

 

Finally, exactly fifteen minutes later, Prophet cleared his throat again. “Arbiter,” he said. “How do you vote?”

 

The man in the black robe folded his hands under his chin and regarded me levelly for thirty seconds in total silence. “I find,” he said at last, pausing between each word, “that I am not as informed about this topic as I would like to be. I hesitate to question the honor of such a distinguished citizen as the jarl without greater evidence than I have. However, I also would prefer to avoid dismissing the accusation at such an early stage without a more convincing rebuttal than has thus far been presented.”

 

“Your words show wisdom,” Prophet said. I’m pretty sure I was the only one who noticed him roll his eyes as he did. “But a decision must be made, and the deciding vote falls to you.”

 

“I am aware,” Arbiter said placidly. “But I will not speak hastily. As I said, I lack information. I choose to defer the decision for a fortnight so that I may gather this information, as is my right.”

 

Prophet stared at Arbiter for several long seconds. When he finally spoke, it was so quiet that I must have been the only one not on the stage to hear him. Even my hearing, which was noticeably better than human, could barely make out the words. “This is unnecessary,” he said. “And cruel, to drag things out.”

 

“A great deal can change in two weeks,” the other man said calmly, looking at me. “As you know.”

 

“Yes, and you know that this outcome was decided long before today,” Prophet countered. “There is no reason to extend the proceedings like this.”

 

“Be that as it may, it is still my right.”

 

Prophet sighed, but nodded. “Arbiter, your request is granted. This Conclave will reconvene a fortnight from today to determine whether the plea of innocence entered by jarl Winter Wolf-Born is to be accepted, or further investigation is merited. In the meantime, let the next matter of consideration be brought before us.”

 

Ivanov, sitting next to me, nudged me with his elbow. “That’s our signal,” he murmured in my ear. “You aren’t cleared for the rest of the meeting. Let’s go.”

 

I didn’t bother arguing with him—honestly, I seriously doubt that I wanted to be there for the rest of the topics, anyway. The internal politics of the mage clans weren’t that interesting to me.

 

So I let the two Guards escort me, politely but rather quickly, up the stairs and out of the door, at which point they promptly vanished back into the auditorium. To my surprise, Alexis was already outside, talking with Laurel. The two of them went silent when I came out of the auditorium.

 

“How’d it go?” Laurel asked a moment later. She didn’t make much of an effort to sound interested.

 

“I’m not dead yet,” I said gloomily, grabbing the bin with my stuff from the shelf. “Apparently I get two weeks to ‘avoid the consequences of my actions,’ whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. What about you? Seems like the two of you were having a nice chat.”

 

Alexis cleared her throat and looked at the floor. “We were talking about the Guards,” she said, not meeting my eye. “I think I want to join.”

 

“Don’t you have to be in the clans to do that?”

 

“No, actually,” Laurel said. “You just have to pass the aptitude tests. Do that and they’ll support your bid to be recognized by the Conclave. Based on what she’s described of her training, Alexis could probably make the tests and be recognized as a journeyman. There’s still a lot of oversight at that level, but she’d have a fair amount of responsibility.”

 

I nodded slowly. “You’re an adult,” I said. “You can make your own decisions. But I have one recommendation, if you’re willing to hear me out.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Don’t do it yet,” I said. “I have it on good authority that a storm is coming, and it sounds like a big one. You might want to give that some time to settle before you make any big moves. Especially ones you can’t take back.”

 

“I’ll consider it,” Alexis said after a moment. “But I’m not going to wait forever. I want to make a difference, and working with you…well, it hasn’t been all that I might have hoped for.”

 

“That’s fine,” I said. “Like I said, it’s up to you. Just something to keep in mind.”

 

“Hang on,” Laurel said. “A storm is coming? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

I shrugged. “Beats me. But I’ve heard it referenced by a Faerie Queen and a member of the Conclave now, and neither of them seemed to think there was anything they could do about it, so I’m guessing it has to be pretty epic in scope.”

 

The Watcher winced. “Which member?”

 

“Arbiter.”

 

Laurel shuddered at that. “Damn. I was afraid you’d say that. That guy is…I don’t know. There’s something messed up there, you know what I mean?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “But my life’s riding on his decision, at the moment. I kind of have to hope for the best out of him.”

 

“Good luck with that,” she said. “I really did enjoy working with you, Winter. It’d be a shame if you died for something like this.”

 

“Thanks for the sentiment,” I said dryly, starting for the door. “But I don’t have any intention of dying. Not yet.”

---

 

Alexis decided to stay and talk more about the possibility of joining the Guards with Laurel. As a result, I made my way back downstairs alone, feeling more than a little dismal. I hate it when I actually decide not do something stupid, for once, and then circumstances force me to do it anyway.

 

I was met at the door by a man in an indigo robe.

 

“Hello, Winter,” he said, falling into step beside me.

 

I eyed him warily, and not particularly happily. “Alexander. Or should I call you Maker?”

 

He shrugged dismissively. “It hardly matters. Both names were assumed.”

 

“Right,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be on stage right now?”

 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve annoyed the rest of the Conclave,” he said dryly. “I doubt it will be the last, either. And I owed you an explanation.”

 

“I’m surprised you’d care,” I said tightly. “Given that you never bothered to tell me about the Conclave in the first place.”

 

He considered me for a moment. “Ah. I’d wondered what that was about.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve been avoiding me for some time,” he said. “I was wondering why.”

 

“Well, you kind of did screw me over with that,” I pointed out. “I mean, all of a sudden I’ve got Watchers chasing me for something I didn’t do, and I don’t even know who the hell they are. Don’t you think that’s the sort of thing you should mention to someone, when you agree to show them the ropes?”

 

Alexander was silent for several steps. “It wasn’t intended that way,” he said at last. “I didn’t expect it to cause you trouble. But it’s been my experience that the less involvement one has with clan politics, the happier they are.”

 

I snorted. “How’d you get on that stage with an attitude like that?”

 

“It’s somewhat traditional. Some of the other positions are assigned based on politics, but Maker has always been passed down more on the basis of skill. I’m quite possibly the best maker in the world, and I have connections to everyone else who might lay claim to the title. My predecessor evidently thought that was sufficient.”

 

“The title of Maker is an inherited one, then?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “All of them are. Nine mages, titled after the nine mages of the original Conclave. Though the resemblance is thin. They were giants among men, fit to stand among the gods. Next to them, we’re just pretenders to the throne, and inadequate ones at that.”

 

“Having seen your work,” I said dryly, “I find that difficult to believe.”

 

Alexander paused again before speaking. “The original Maker was Solomon. His ring could compel any spirit to do his will. He could trap a demon or a djinn in a bottle for a thousand years without difficulty. His bindings could hold a lesser god. The weapons he made are strong enough, even two thousand years later, that one of Keeper’s most important duties is making sure that no one ever uses one. Next to his works, the things I do are parlor tricks.”

 

“Oh,” I said. “Those stories were accurate?”

 

“Many of them.” Alexander shook his head. “I’ve strayed off topic. I imagine you’re curious as to why that vote went the way it did.”

 

“Not really. I figured it was Scáthach’s doing. She wants a favor, and this is some pretty fine leverage.”

 

He nodded slowly. “Not inaccurate, but not entirely correct. While she likely did play a role in the timing, it was as much doing you a favor as applying pressure. She reminded people that you’re connected.”

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

“Look,” he said. “Most people in the supernatural community choose a side and stick with it. They sign up for the Pack, or join a mage clan, or whatever, and they spend their life working their way up the ranks there. That means they have the chance to gain a great deal of influence, but it also makes their position in the world a simple one. You, on the other hand, have done the opposite, intentionally or otherwise. You have very important friends in the Pack, you’ve worked for two of the Conclave, you have connections to three separate pantheons of deities and both Courts of the Sidhe, not to mention Skrýmir’s support.”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’ve made a lot of enemies, too. Some of them are even still alive.”

 

“Exactly,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “See, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You’ve made yourself complicated. You’re linked to so many different groups, in so many different ways, that any action involving you has the potential to have serious consequences that weren’t intended. Pull one string and you can’t predict what tangles might develop, you see? And each of those groups has relationships with others, to the point that the second-order interactions are far too complex to model with any confidence. By declaring her continued support, Scáthach reminded the Conclave of how delicate this issue is.”

 

“I don’t get it. How is getting people to accuse me of killing Zhang a declaration of support?”

 

“The accusation was going to be made eventually,” Alexander said flatly. “If only for the sake of appearances, the Conclave would have been obligated to consider the topic at some point. By pressuring the parties in question to make the accusation now, she ensured that they wouldn’t have time to arrange things to their liking. She also reminds you that her support can be withdrawn at any time, which is why I said you weren’t incorrect about this being a threat of sorts. If she becomes hostile to you, then killing you is a much more advantageous action, politically. There’s a very real danger there.”

 

We walked in silence for around thirty seconds after that, while I processed what he’d said. I might be involved in politics now, however reluctantly, but there was a far cry from being a politician. I wasn’t at all accustomed to thinking in circles that twisty.

 

“Arbiter said I had a chance,” I said at last. “That I could avoid the consequences of my actions. What does that mean?”

 

Alexander was quiet for a long moment. “The balance isn’t favorable,” he said at last. “You have enough advocates to delay things. But in the end, what you did was too blatant. Allowing you to get by without any punishment would invite consequences. And there are enough people in the Conclave who think you’re dangerous that pushing it through anyway isn’t likely to happen. At this point, the only chance you have is to either change the relative value of your life, or mollify the people accusing you.”

 

“What happens if I’m found guilty?”

 

“You’re already a fugitive in the real world,” he said dryly. “I doubt you want to be on the run from the mages, as well.” He shook his head. “You could survive. You might take refuge with Skrýmir, for example, or in Scáthach’s Court. I’m sure you’re aware of other options.”

 

“But there would be a price.” I didn’t have to ask about that. There was always a price.

 

“Yes.”

 

I was silent for several more steps. “The Zhang clan has close ties to the Courts,” I said at last. “A word from Scáthach could go a long way towards evening that scale.”

 

“Precisely,” Alexander said approvingly. “She did you a favor by rushing them into accusing you, but gifts from the fae have a tendency to only draw you in deeper.”

 

“Man,” I sighed. “Fuck faeries.”

 

“A sentiment which has been expressed by a great many people, throughout history,” he said dryly. “Now, I really should be getting back. Did you have any other questions?”

 

“Not really. I mean, at this point there’s only really one way to go forward, isn’t there? As much as I hate the idea of getting mixed up in Court politics, keeping Scáthach happy is kind of important right now.”

 

“That’s how it goes,” Alexander said, shrugging. “Once you get involved with the Courts, there’s no backing out. I tried to warn you.”

 

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You did. Thanks, Alexander. I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

 

“It’s not important,” he said, turning back towards the meeting. “Try not to die.”

 

 

I watched him go, and then I kept walking.

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

“Are you sure bringing me was a good idea?” Alexis asked, hurrying to keep up with me. It was pretty late, local time, and this part of London didn’t see a whole lot of traffic at this hour; I was able to set a decent pace without drawing attention.

 

“Not really,” I said. “I just don’t give a damn. There’s something oddly liberating about knowing that your life’s so thoroughly wrecked that nothing you do can make it meaningfully worse.”

 

“Which is fine,” she said dryly, “but I still had some hope of not making quite that much of a mess with my second chance at things.”

 

“That’s part of why I’m bringing you,” I said cheerfully. “You’re as good as I am, Alexis. We both know it. Coming to this meeting, you should be able to make some contacts. You might even find a clan you’re interested in joining. Who knows?”

 

“But doesn’t it hurt your chances? Make you look like you aren’t taking this seriously?”

 

I shrugged. “That’s fairly low on my list of priorities at the moment. Besides, I think it might have the opposite effect. For me to teach another mage suggests competence and reliability. It might not be bad for my image.” I smelled the magic, and checked the note I’d been given. Sure enough, the large building in front of me matched the address I’d been given. “We’re here,” I said. “You ready?”

 

Alexis took a deep breath and then nodded. “I guess I’d better be,” she said.

 

I grinned. “That’s the spirit,” I said. Then I stepped forward and pounded on the front door of the building.

 

There was a pause of several seconds before the door opened. The guy standing on the other side was pretty normal-looking, only made remarkable by a black three-piece suit and sunglasses. “No entrance without identification,” he said, sounding bored.

 

I paused, confused, before remembering that my face was still covered in shadows. I willed my cloak into the form of a long coat, exposing my face and the same outfit I’d worn to meet with Scáthach. “Happy now?” I asked.

 

Moray did not look happy. “Come in,” he said, stepping out of the way. “You’re early.”

 

“It seemed better than being late,” I said, stepping over the threshold. I felt the mild tingle of the warding spells pass over my skin as I did, though they didn’t try to stop me; I was invited.

 

“You aren’t allowed in early,” he said, closing the door and locking it. “But I can show the two of you to a waiting room.”

 

“That’s fine. Are you in charge of security?”

 

Moray nodded and walked through one of the doors leading out of the lobby, Alexis and I following. “They moved me into the oversight department after the last job we worked on.”

 

“They gave you a promotion for that?”

 

Moray snorted. “Yeah, the very special kind of promotion that comes with a pay cut and doesn’t have any more authority than your old job, and where you don’t have a chance in hell of advancing further.” He shrugged, opening the door to a small cafeteria. It was empty except for the three of us. “A lot of people were upset when Zhang died. Someone had to take the fall.”

 

“That sucks,” I said.

 

He shrugged again and sat at one of the long tables. “It is what it is. So who’s the girl?”

 

“I didn’t realize you hadn’t met. This is my cousin, Alexis Hamilton. Alexis, this is Moray. He’s one of the more pleasant Watchers I know.”

 

“Charmed,” he said. “But why’d you bring her here?”

 

“Alexis is a pretty decent sorcerer,” I said. “I thought it might be good for her to start meeting people in the field. She could use some backup.”

 

Moray looked at her, showing more interest than he had up until this point in the conversation. “Sorcerer, eh? What kinds of powers are we talking about, here?”

 

“I specialize in electricity,” she said, seeming a little discomfited by the attention. “But I’m decent with kinetic force, and a handful of other things. You know.”

 

“Lightning and force, eh?” he said, eyeing her appraisingly. “That profile lends itself pretty well to a fight. You ever practice combat skills?”

 

“A bit,” she said modestly. “I kind of want to do some good with my magic, you know? I mean, I’ve…got some stuff to make up for, I guess.”

 

“I can understand that. You ever consider joining the Watchers? There aren’t many places you could do more good than that.”

 

Alexis laughed. “I don’t think Winter will appreciate you trying to recruit me out from under him.”

 

“Hey,” I said. “Leave me out of this. You need to make your own decisions.”

 

“Just think about it,” Moray said. “Winter knows how to contact us if you decide you want more information.” He glanced at his watch and then stood up. “We probably better start heading that direction. You’re right about not wanting to be late.”

 

At my insistence, we took the stairs. I was starting to regret that by the time we reached the seventh floor, more because of Moray’s griping than any real discomfort. It was still better than an elevator, though.

 

They had a security station set up outside the doors to the auditorium. It was relatively small, but more thorough than I would have guessed. They had a metal detector and one of the full body scanners they use in airports. They also had a Watcher in attendance, a tall woman with harsh features. She was wearing a reddish-brown cloak and a sword belt. I could also detect half a dozen stored spells and foci in various pockets, and the sword itself was clearly enchanted, although I wasn’t quite sure what any of them were supposed to do.

 

I stared for a second. Then I shook my head and walked toward the security station, Alexis in tow. Moray went back downstairs, presumably to go back to watching the door.

 

“Laurel,” I said, stopping just outside the metal detector. “Did Watcher go out of her way to pick security people I already know?”

“Hi, Winter,” she said, cheerfully enough. I didn’t trust that at all; I knew damned well that Laurel could fake any emotion she pleased, and she’d have no difficulty stabbing me without losing that cheerful attitude for a moment. “And yeah, she did. I think she thought it would make you more agreeable.”

 

I snorted. “That sounds like her. I’m guessing you want me to go through these?”

 

“Yep,” she said, holding out a plastic bin. “You can dump your stuff in here. I’m sure you’re carrying.”

 

I didn’t bother answering her, but I did take the bin. I pulled two knives out of my cloak and dropped them in, along with a folding knife that I’d had up my sleeve. Three metal rings followed them, along with a length of chain, a couple spools of wire, a spork, and my belt. A handful of needles and a sack of ball bearings came out of the cloak, followed by a pouch of dust and a pair of handcuffs. I had a couple of darts in my pants pocket, which I dropped in, along with a couple of stored spells and a small sheet of lead.

 

“Jesus,” Laurel said, sounding a little disgusted. “Do you always carry that much kit?”

 

“This is actually a fairly light loadout,” I said, dropping a couple of pitons in the bin. “Okay, I think that’s everything.”

 

“Right,” she said. “Step through the detector and then face the scanner.”

 

I did so. The metal detector didn’t go off, suggesting that I’d actually managed to remember everything I was carrying. “Alexis, do you need to drop anything?”

 

“Hang on,” Laurel said, looking up from the scanner controls. “The girl isn’t authorized for entry.”

 

“On the contrary,” I said. “She’s my apprentice. From what I understand of Conclave protocol, that means she’s entitled to entry under my invitation.”

 

“Yeah, but you aren’t part of a recognized clan. That makes it something of a borderline case.” Laurel spent a moment chewing her lip, then shrugged. “Screw it. They want her gone, they can kick her out themselves. Drop your stuff in the bin.”

 

A minute or so later, following two unremarkable scans, Laurel gave both of us a quick and impersonal patdown before grabbing a crystal prism hanging from a silver chain. I was pretty sure it wasn’t her work; it lacked the odor of bleach and dust that I associated with her magic.

 

“I’m reading a fairly strong signal off you, Winter,” she said, looking at me through the prism. “Doesn’t seem to be localized.”

 

“That’s the cloak,” I said. “It’s harmless. So is the clothing; I just have basic reinforcement on it. Strictly defensive.”

 

“Right,” she said. “I can see that. And it looks like you’re carrying a couple of stored spells?”

 

“Forcewalls, for the most part,” I said. “I can’t do a kinetic barrier worth noticing, so they’re useful things to carry. I put all the aggressive stuff in the bin; what I’m carrying is all defensive.”

 

“All right, then,” she said, turning to Alexis. “I’m willing to let that by. You, on the other hand, are carrying a couple of foci that I’m definitely not comfortable with.”

 

Alexis flushed and pulled off a pair of wooden rings, dropping them into the bin. “Sorry,” she said. “I forgot about those.”

 

“It’s no big deal. But I’m going to need you to drop the rod, too.”

 

“It’s nonlethal,” she protested. “No worse than a Taser.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Laurel said, sounding bored. “It goes in the bin, or you stay out here. Your choice.”

 

Alexis looked like she wanted to argue, but she pulled a small copper rod out of the pocket of her suit coat and handed it over.

 

“Great,” Laurel said, putting a lid on the bin and taping it shut. “Winter, you’re technically a visiting dignitary, so you get a Guard escort and you sit in the VIP section, right in front of the stage. The Guards will get you to your seat. Alexis—did I get the name right?—you’re in the apprentice section. Turn right just inside the door and find a seat. Go ahead inside. Winter, your escort should be here in just a minute.”

 

Alexis didn’t seem to be in a hurry to enter the auditorium, but Laurel herded her inside. I stood around and felt increasingly tense for about thirty seconds before a pair of men emerged from the staircase. They looked almost identical, generic thugs with a fashion sense less sophisticated than but otherwise similar to Moray’s, and had small reddish starbursts prominently displayed on their coats. The only way I could distinguish them was that one was blond and the other had muddy brown hair.

 

“Ivanov,” I said, relatively warmly. “Neumann. They really pulled out all the stops to surround me with familiar faces, didn’t they?”

 

“Looks like,” Ivanov agreed. His voice was a lot more cautious than mine; I don’t think he was ever quite convinced that I wasn’t the one summoning monsters, when I met the pair. “Although that’s standard practice. Someone who knows your style is more likely to be able to work with you and make sure you’re safe if something happens.”

 

“Right,” I said skeptically. Somehow I didn’t think it was my safety they were concerned with, primarily. “Well, we might as well go in.”

 

“Right,” he said as Neumann stepped past and opened the door of the auditorium.

 

The room wasn’t terribly large, as such things went, but it wasn’t small. There were probably two hundred people sitting in there, and they weren’t all that crowded. We’d entered at the very top of the room, and everyone got a chance to watch as I was escorted down the stairs.

 

The variety of humanity in the room was staggering. Male and female, old and young, there seemed to be nothing in common among them. Every ethnicity was represented, and the variety of languages in the quiet conversations I overheard was dizzying. Many of them were dressed in fine robes, cloaks, and similarly antiquated garb, but a significant minority wore modern suits. None of them were dressed informally, and I was very glad that I’d worn decent clothing.

 

The vast majority of them had metal badges or cloth patches prominently displayed, indicators of rank and accomplishments. I knew enough of the code to recognize some of them—the Seal of Solomon indicated a master of summoning and binding creatures from the Otherside, for example, while a braid of numerous metals indicated a master enchanter. The vast majority, though, were obscure to me.

 

Far more noticeable was the smell of their magic. None of them seemed to be actively working any magic, but a couple hundred mages had enough power to be pretty overwhelming even resting. There was enough power in that room to make my nostrils burn, and the disinfectant odor of human magic was incredibly strong. Every step brought new undertones to the scent, as I picked up on the auras of different mages. It was hard to ignore, and impossible to process.

 

The two Guards escorted me down to the lowest row of seating. They didn’t seem inclined to converse and there was no one else in that section, so I had plenty of opportunity to look at the people on the stage.

 

There were nine of them, each standing at a podium. They were dressed in simple robes, one in each of the colors of the rainbow, flanked by a white robe at one end and black at the other. There was a roughly even mix of men and women, and a wide variety of ethnicities as well.

 

I knew almost half of them, at least vaguely. The old woman in the violet robe carrying a black cane was Watcher, who’d been more or less on my side in the past. At any rate, she had a fair amount invested in me, and she knew that I could be useful in the future. I was pretty sure I didn’t have to worry about Watcher.

 

On the other side of the stage, Guard looked unsettlingly cheerful, his crimson robe startling against his dark skin. He watched me all the way down, in a manner more than slightly reminiscent of a bored cat watching a small bird. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

 

A slender Hispanic man was standing directly next to him, wearing orange robes. He smiled encouragingly at me as I took my seat. He was Caller, and while I’d only met him once, I knew something about how he operated. Caller had an interest in the balance of power on the Otherside, and he wasn’t afraid of interfering to nudge that balance in the direction he wanted. I didn’t know him well enough to say whether he would see me as a dangerously unpredictable factor to get rid of, or a potentially valuable tool to keep handy.

 

And, last but most definitely not least, was the man in the indigo robe, standing next to Watcher in the lineup. I knew him very well indeed, although seeing him on that stage was such a shock that I’d very nearly tripped on the stairs when I realized who it was.

 

The room went silent as the man in the white robe cleared his throat. “It is time to introduce the next item,” he said in English. His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it carried through the room with perfect clarity, likely due to some kind of magical assistance. Behind me I heard a number of hushed voices, as his words were translated into a dozen languages. “Namely, the accusation of the jarl Winter Wolf-Born as the murderer of esteemed mage Zhang Qiang. Jarl, please stand.”

 

I did so, feeling the eyes on me as an almost literal weight. “I am present,” I said.

 

The man in white regarded me. “How do you plead in response to this accusation?”

 

I opened my mouth, intending to follow Guard’s advice and admit my guilt. I could eat a little crow and pay the blood price.

 

Then I paused. Guard looked too cheerful, too happy. It wasn’t a good kind of happy, either. It was more the kind of happy that came along with a decisive victory.

 

On impulse, I instead said, “The accusation is inaccurate. I played no part in the crime you described.” Which was true, really. As far as I was concerned, killing somebody that messed up wasn’t murder, it was an entirely rational response to someone too monstrous to live.

 

Guard’s expression became very, very ugly when I said that. It only lasted a second or two before he reinstated his calm mask, but I saw it. It made me feel better about my decision. He wouldn’t have looked like that unless he’d lost something when I didn’t admit my guilt, and I didn’t think he had enough invested in my wellbeing to get that upset over me screwing myself.

 

“Your plea is noted,” said the man in the white robe, with an inscrutable smile. “Let a vote be taken by those present to determine whether it is convincing, or further investigation is needed.”

 

“I move to restrict the vote to the Conclave,” said the woman in the yellow robe. She was elderly, and looked vaguely Middle Eastern to me. “Conveying all the evidence associated with this accusation to all of those assembled would be impractical.”

 

“Seconded,” said Watcher, in her hoarse, raspy voice.

 

“Motion passed,” the man in white said, still smiling. “The vote shall be taken by the Conclave, rather than all members present. Are there any objections?”

 

The room went silent. I heard someone cough in the apprentices’ section at the back of the room.

 

“Very well,” he said. “I am Prophet. I vote that the jarl be held guilty. The accusation was placed by a member in good standing, and the jarl’s claims of innocence ring hollow in the face of his reputation for violence. Guard, how do you vote?”

 

“Guilty,” he said. “The jarl is known to be a man of war, and has shown little regard for the law in the past. This murder is well within his capabilities. Caller, how do you vote?”

 

Caller grinned at me. “Innocent,” he said, his voice marked with the same Spanish accent as the last time I’d heard him. “Winter has acted to support the balance of power in the past. I believe him when he says that he did not behave in such a disruptive way as he has been accused of on this occasion. Keeper, how do you vote?”

 

“Innocent,” the woman in the yellow robe said. “The accused has acted to assist the Conclave in the past. His actions were instrumental in returning several artifacts to my keeping. Guide, how do you vote?”

 

“Guilty,” said the heavyset Asian woman in green. “He has killed those under my care in the past, and while those killings were lawful, they speak poorly for his character. Walker, how do you vote?”

 

The slender, young-looking woman in the blue robe smiled at me. Her teeth were very white, but still looked dingy next to the snowy tone of her skin. “Innocent,” she said, with what sounded like a Russian accent. “My contacts speak well of the accused, and I have no reason not to believe his claim. Maker, how do you vote?”

 

The man I’d known as Alexander Hoffman glowered at me. “Innocent,” he said, sounding more than a little grudging. “I’ve worked with this man. Taught him most of what he knows. Kid’s a bit dim, but he isn’t stupid enough to do something like this. Watcher, how do you vote?”

 

I relaxed a little. I had four votes in my favor, now, and my strongest supporter was still coming up. I was pretty sure they were going on a simple majority, which meant that I should be okay. For the first time since I saw Scáthach’s letter, I was feeling like everything might turn out all right.

 

It was only natural, then, that the first word out of Watcher’s mouth was, “Guilty.”

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

“What’s your visual range going to be like?” I asked Kris as I parked the heavily armored truck that I typically used to ferry minions around. As I’d expected, she’d had absolutely no problems with coming out to help hunt ghouls. We’d always gotten along pretty well. I’d recruited most of the mages of the Inquisition, but Kris had been the only one to volunteer.

 

“Should be pretty much fine,” she said.

 

I blinked. “Really? You don’t think it’ll be too dark?” Raptors are famed for their vision, with good reason, but there’s a reason that you don’t typically see them out and about at night. They aren’t very good at seeing in the dark, probably worse than ordinary humans.

 

“Nah,” Kris said, grinning. “I’ve been playing around with adjusting my eyes. The range isn’t as good, and I lose a little in the way of detail, but they work a lot better at night.”

 

“Nice work,” I said, meaning it. Even for a shapeshifter, that kind of delicate adjustment wasn’t easy. I don’t know that I would have had the balls to make changes to my eyes like that.

 

“Okay, people,” I said, getting out of the truck. “This is the neighborhood that the report came from. Vigdis, Kris, I want eyes in the sky. You’re looking for rapid movement, signs of disturbance or violence, anything anomalous. Try not to give yourselves away unless you have to. If you think you’re in danger get to my location and land. Questions?”

 

“Nope,” Kris said, climbing out of the truck. Vigdis, just behind her, grunted and shook her head. Both of them started stripping, quickly and efficiently. Shapeshifters of any stripe tend to have a hard time bringing their equipment with them. Granted they were both smaller as birds than humans, so they could have shifted in their clothes, but it was inconvenient and neither of them was particularly modest, so they didn’t bother.

 

“Good,” I said, turning to the last member of the group. “Kyi, you’re on the ground with me. I want you scouting a perimeter around me as I move, looking for the same things as the fliers. Anything odd or threatening, come find me. If it’s urgent or you think you’re in danger, give me a signal and I’ll get to your position. Otherwise, don’t let anyone see you.”

 

She nodded, grinning. The compound bow on her back bobbed with the movement, as did several knives and a pair of kama. Kyi specializes in taking people down without them ever knowing she was there, either by putting an arrow through their face from a hundred feet away or by sneaking up on them and putting sharp things into their squishy parts. She isn’t nearly as strong as the other jötnar, but she’s quick, and in a fight she can do a lot more damage than most people expect.

 

She stalked off into the shadow at the edge of a building. I didn’t bother trying to watch her past that.

 

Behind me, there was no sign of the two shapeshifters. In their place was a pair of birds, perched on the truck. One of them was an eagle, huge even by the standards of eagles, which was flexing its wings as though it could hardly stand to put off its flight for even a moment. The other was almost indistinguishable from a red-tailed hawk, though if what Kris had said was right, its eyes were rather markedly different.

 

“Go on,” I said, locking up the truck. Between the armor and the defenses I’d added since I bought it, it locked up pretty nicely. You’d have better odds of cracking a bank vault than getting into that truck without a key.

 

When I looked back, the birds were gone. I took a deep breath and nodded. I checked the contents of my pockets, more out of habit than anything, and then started walking through the streets. As I went I reshaped my cloak into a long coat, drawing a sheet of shadow up over my head so that none of the armor was visible, before pulling a broad-brimmed hat on over my helmet. In the dusk, it would look like I was just a man in a coat, with a hat casting a shadow over my face. Nothing too remarkable.

 

The report had indicated that the ghouls were on the eastern edge of the city, out in the plains, but hadn’t specified beyond a general neighborhood. We’d been able to narrow it down a little from there, just by knowing the habits of ghouls. They wouldn’t be in a populous area. Ghouls were at home in wastelands, deserts, graveyards, and abandoned places. In the city, that narrowed it down quite a bit.

 

That still left a lot of room to look in, though. So as I started walking, I cheated. I called up my magic and sent my awareness out, casting around for any hints of their presence.

 

One of the cardinal rules of magic is that everyone has something, some particular knack, that comes more naturally than anything else. For Kris, it’s the shapeshifting. Alexis is a natural with electricity.

 

For me, it’s always been animals, especially predators. I can communicate with them, and see through their eyes.

 

Oddly enough, though, I’d never really practiced with it. I’d never seen the need; it came so naturally I assumed that I didn’t have anything else to learn. Once I’d been given a motivation, though, it turned out that wasn’t quite the case. Over the past year I’d made some considerable strides. I’d learned to manage multiple sets of senses at once, processing input from different sources at the same time. Five was the most I’d managed so far, as I’d said to Aiko, and I couldn’t get full detail from more than two at once, but that was still a far cry from being limited to one set of senses at a time.

 

One of the other tricks I’d learned was to only dissociate a piece of myself, keeping the bulk of my attention in my own body. I couldn’t pay attention to details while I did that, and I tended to come across as somewhat distractible, but it gave me some options I wouldn’t have otherwise.

 

That was what I did now, devoting part of my attention to skim the awareness of animals around me. I kept most of my focus on myself, and while my reactions would be a little slower, I could function normally. With the rest of my mind, I was skipping from one predator to the next, looking for any kind of sensory information that could point me at my target.

 

Hunting ghouls required different tactics than most quarry. Ghouls have some talent with illusion and shapechanging, and most of them can pass for human when they want to. Their natural forms are a lot more conspicuous, but most of the time they don’t use those forms in an urban setting. If you’re tracking down a ghoul in a city, you need to look for more subtle cues.

 

I’d been walking for about three minutes when I noticed something odd. I devoted a little more of my attention to my magic, and confirmed that a dog about a mile north could smell decay. It wasn’t garbage; the scent was nastier than that, with strong odor of rotting meat.

 

Rot isn’t a perfect indicator for ghouls, but there’s a definite association. At the next intersection I turned north, focusing my attention a little more on the animals I was sensing from that direction. As I did I briefly glimpsed Kyi pacing me on the roof of a nearby apartment building, letting me know she was still pacing me.

 

It only took a minute or so to establish that numerous animals were smelling rotting meat in the same general area, enough that it was more than a coincidence. Even more tellingly, I couldn’t find any actually scavenging for it. That was a definite anomaly; rotting meat is still meat, and your average fox, raccoon, or raven isn’t going to be too proud to indulge in such a meal.

 

Once I’d confirmed that there was something funky going on, I started focusing more tightly on the area in question, looking for a sign that I was uniquely suited to find. Ghouls come in a lot of varieties, but one of the major common features is an insatiable hunger for flesh.

 

Back in the day, ghouls were notorious for luring people into the desert and eating them. They often scavenge in graveyards, digging up corpses for food. In the city, though, both of those behaviors are likely to draw unwanted notice, and as a result ghouls tend to fall back on other sources of meat. One of the most telling indicators of a ghoul’s presence is that animals, pet and stray alike, tend to go missing and not be found.

 

It took several minutes to pick it out, but eventually I found it. There was an area not far north, maybe three blocks in size, with almost no animals in it. There were pets, but they were all indoors, where it would be difficult to snatch them without drawing attention. I found a couple of birds on the streets, but not many, and the ones I could reach all felt wary, especially those towards the center of the area I’d sketched out in my mental map of the region.

 

I’d found them.

 

I drew my attention back into my own body and turned towards the location I’d just marked, picking up my pace. My minions would observe the change and know that I’d spotted the target

 

It was a bit of a hike, but I didn’t hurry. It would give people time to get off the streets. It was getting dark, and it was chilly for a September night. I thought most people would be clearing out pretty quickly.

 

By the time I was in the right area, the streetlights were coming on and I was starting to feel a little edgy. I couldn’t have told you how I knew, but I was pretty sure that I was being watched.

 

That was fine. This was their territory, and ghouls are notoriously territorial; I’d known they would have someone watching. Now it was just a matter of waiting for them to contact me. I wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, and it was hard to construe my presence here as anything other than a challenge.

 

I’d been loitering for maybe five minutes when someone walked up to me. His posture was aggressive, angry, and his expression was fixed into an impressive scowl. His features were human, mostly, but wrong, the bones too thick and pronounced, the muscles of the jaw seriously overdeveloped.

 

There were three people standing behind him, with generally similar features, though he was the biggest by a considerable margin. Glimpses through the eyes of a nearby crow suggested that there were another five or so standing around the corner. I felt a sudden thrill of excitement from the sky, though it was muted and remote. Kris and Vigdis might look like birds, but they weren’t, and that difference made my magic clumsy and vague. It was only recently that I’d managed to sense the shapeshifters at all.

 

“You don’t have permission to be here,” the lead ghoul said. His tone was hostile, but also wary.

 

I grinned, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I don’t need permission,” I said lightly. “My authority was granted by a higher power than yours.”

 

He grunted. “What power?”

 

“You heard of Winter Wolf-born?” I asked him.

 

He nodded. “The giant, right? They say he owns this city.”

 

“They say right,” I said. “And you’re standing in it.”

 

The ghoul grunted again. I was getting the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a conversationalist. “You work for him?”

 

“On occasion,” I said, grinning. I wasn’t going to lie, since that was often a foolish decision and wouldn’t be good for my rep if it got out, but that didn’t mean I was going to tell them the truth. “You didn’t ask him for permission before you settled here. He decided to send someone to find out what the situation was.”

 

“We don’t answer to your master,” he growled.

 

I sighed and shook my head. “That was the wrong answer,” I said. “If you want to live in his city, you’re going to answer to Winter.”

 

“Or else what?”

 

“I’ve got permission to kill all of you if you don’t cooperate,” I said mildly. “I can’t say I want to kill you, but I doubt I’d lose much sleep over it, either.”

 

The ghoul’s grin was ugly. “Big words,” he said. I noticed that his features were becoming less human, the jaw extending into a muzzle, his eyes shifting color to an unpleasant shade of yellow-green. His cohorts followed suit. “But there’s only one of you.”

 

I grinned and held one hand up, gesturing slightly. Almost instantly an arrow flew out of the darkness, moving almost too quickly to see, and slammed into the leading ghoul’s knee. It was a heavy, four-bladed broadhead, and the carbon fiber shaft disappeared almost to the fletching. Kyi, unlike most of my housecarls, is fiercely modernist in her equipment choices.

 

It wasn’t a serious injury, not to a ghoul. They have a reputation for taking an ungodly amount of punishment to put down; I doubted that taking an arrow to the knee would even inconvenience this one. They aren’t like werewolves, either, where all you need is silver. As far as I knew the only way to kill a ghoul was with massive damage.

 

An instant later, before they could really react, a hawk streaked out of the sky and slammed into my upraised hand. Kris mantled, showing off impressive plumage, and let out a hawk’s distinctive scream.

 

“I’m seldom alone,” I said to the ghoul, who hadn’t even reacted to the arrow. “And if I were, I could still take you. Last chance. You sure you want to go this route?”

 

The ghoul grinned and popped his neck. His features had become distinctly bestial now, almost hyenoid, with pronounced teeth. Glancing down I saw that he’d kicked off his shoes, revealing extremities that were more hoof than foot. “I reckon,” he said, his new mouth mangling the words almost beyond understanding, “I reckon you’re bluffing. I reckon we can take you. Run now, and I’ll leave you a hand or a foot. Your choice.”

 

I nodded slowly. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

 

The first thing I did once the fight officially started was jerk my arm, tossing Kris into the air. She moved with it, smooth and practiced, turning the motion into a short flight to my right. She turned human before she hit the ground, the change coming and going so fast you couldn’t see a point in between, and landed on her feet.

 

The leader of the ghouls seemed inclined to hang back and get my measure before attacking. One of his minions wasn’t so patient, though. She stepped forward, leering, her jaws open wide enough to fit my head in one bite. They were slightly lopsided, and I suspected that she couldn’t actually close her mouth properly.

 

I didn’t get the chance to find out. The instant she moved, an arrow slammed home into one eye. The ghoul staggered back, reaching for her face, just in time for a second arrow to pass through her hand and into her other eye. The ghoul retreated and started ripping at the arrows, trying to get them out.

 

A moment later the other group of ghouls poured out from around the corner. My count had been off; there had to be at least ten of them, a veritable tide of misshapen bodies and dirty, matted fur. Some of them, like the leader, resembled hyenas. Others looked more like gorillas, or even goats. The only commonalities were ugliness, hostility, and some formidable natural weaponry.

 

They made it maybe ten feet before an eagle swooped down out of the sky. Maybe ten feet from the ground, Vigdis turned into a huge wolf, letting her momentum carry her forward into the group. She hit hard, knocking two or three of them to the ground, biting and tearing. She danced back after a few seconds, blood streaming from her muzzle, jaws open in a savage grin.

 

Apparently this was enough to spur their leader into action. He leapt at me, jaws agape, both arms ending in oversized claws. I ducked aside, but he was faster than I’d expected. I could see him grinning wider as he realized that I’d moved too slowly, and one paw was going to hit me in the face.

 

That grin faded as his claws skittered aside, utterly failing to find purchase on my helmet. No surprise there; that armor was forged by dwarves, and reinforced by a god. Not much was going to penetrate it.

 

Before he could recover from the surprise, I stepped closer, pulling a knife out of my cloak. I slammed the knife into his chest, glancing off a rib before slipping between them. Leaving the knife in him, I lifted him from the ground, grunting slightly with the effort, and tossed him back. He hit one of his followers and both of them sprawled to the ground in a confused tangle of limbs. I grinned, took a step back, and called Tyrfing. The cursed sword appeared in my hand, eager as ever, and it only took me a moment to undo the catch and flick the scabbard aside.

 

Vigdis’s entrance had thrown that group of ghouls into disarray, and she’d done some considerable damage while they were down. But a few bites wasn’t enough to drop them permanently, and now that they were getting back up she was outnumbered and in a bad position. More arrows flew out of the night, hitting vital areas with incredible precision, but they weren’t doing much, and Kyi stopped after only a few seconds. She was smart enough to realize that it wasn’t an effective tactic for this situation.

 

The ghouls didn’t pay much attention when Kris stepped up next to Vigdis. I couldn’t blame them; Kris really didn’t look like much. She was barely over five feet, and while she was in good shape, her build was closer to that of a long-distance runner than a weightlifter. Her shoulders were a little more heavily muscled, probably because of the flying, but it wasn’t something you’d notice on casual observation.

 

She was also unarmed, and naked. The ghouls were confident that she didn’t represent a threat, and one bite would be sufficient to take her down. Only one of them even bothered to move on her; the others kept their focus on Vigdis. When Kris slapped at that one’s head, it didn’t bother dodging.

 

Then, too fast to see clearly, Kris’s hand melted and reformed as a claw, an absurdly oversized version of a hawk’s talon. The claw raked across the ghoul’s face a good bit harder than someone Kris’s size should have been able to swing, and tore through flesh without slowing. Blood poured out of several broad gashes. One of his eyeballs was gone, impaled on a claw and ripped away. The other was still attached, but only barely, dangling by the nerve. He staggered back, shocked, and Kris followed up by jumping onto his shoulders. She jumped again, throwing him to the ground, and turned into a hawk in midair. The hawk flew away, screaming again, mockingly.

 

The ghoul hit the ground and stayed there. He wasn’t dead, but I was guessing he was in a lot of pain, and it would take time for his vision to recover. I didn’t think he was going to get up soon.

 

The others weren’t so lucky. They got to deal with me.

 

I stepped past the group that had come to confront me before the leader could stand up again. One of the ghouls, the one that Kyi had shot at the beginning of the fight, tried to stop me. I took her claw in the chest without flinching and countered with Tyrfing, a short cut that took one of her hands off. She blinked, staring at the blood fountaining from the stump. I continued past her without further delay.

 

The other group of ghouls were focused tightly on Vigdis. She was staying back, on the defensive, but the ghouls were tougher than she was, and they had her surrounded. Both parties knew that the fight was just a matter of time, and the ghouls were pressing in tighter, all their attention on their imminent meal. None of them were prepared for an attack from the other direction.

 

I hit the ring of ghouls from behind, without warning. I didn’t go for anything fancy, just started cutting them down with Tyrfing. Normally I would have gone for broad, sweeping attacks, removing limbs and dropping whole swathes of them, but that wasn’t good tactics for ghouls; they were too tough, and hard to incapacitate. I used more precise strikes instead, targeting the head and neck.

 

In the first two seconds I decapitated two ghouls and split the skull of a third, my motions swift and economical. Those ghouls fell, and didn’t move afterward. Ghouls are hard to kill, but Tyrfing is really good at killing things.

 

The others reacted quickly, turning to face the new threat. That put their backs to Vigdis, and she was quick to capitalize on the opportunity, darting forward and laying about herself with claws and teeth. She focused on the ghouls’ legs and feet, tripping and slowing them. None of the injuries were serious, but they left them vulnerable to me, and at this point the ghouls were well aware of what a dangerous position that was.

 

I stepped through the ghouls, ignoring several more attacks. Claws and teeth slipped aside on the armor. Hooves did a little better, transferring a fair amount of force, but I ignored those as well. They wouldn’t inflict anything worse than bruises, and bruises didn’t scare me. One ghoul got her hands on me and started to heave me off the ground, but Tyrfing chopped through her forearms easily enough, and I was through.

 

“Nice entrance,” I said to Vigdis, stabbing one of the fallen ghouls through the spine. It jerked and went still.

 

The wolf grinned at me, showing teeth that were more red than white. She was bleeding from a pair of bite wounds on her flank, but didn’t seem to care.

 

“Get airborne,” I told her. “You’re more valuable if they don’t know where you’re going to hit next.”

 

She nodded and then flickered back to the giant eagle. She had a harder time taking off than usual, likely as a result of the bites, but she managed it.

 

I turned to face the ghouls. They were hanging back, clearly reluctant to come any closer to me. I couldn’t say I blamed them. The end result was that I had a wall at my back and about ten feet of clear space, but they had me hemmed in with a semicircle of ghoul.

 

A few seconds later the leader walked up through the center of the semicircle, stopping about five feet from me. He was bouncing my knife in one hand.

 

“Nice work,” he said, regarding one of the dead ghouls. “Shame we’re on opposite sides. I could use a man with skills like yours.”

 

“I appreciate the offer, but I already answer to more people than I’d like,” I said honestly.

 

He shrugged and tossed me the knife. I caught it and returned it to its sheath inside my cloak. “That’s how it goes,” he said. “But it’s a pity to kill someone with your talent.”

 

“That’s funny,” I said lightly. “I was about to say the same thing.”

 

He chuckled. “I appreciate the bravado, but let’s get real. You’ve got your back to the wall. You’re good, but this is it for you.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Look behind you.”

 

He smirked. Several of the ghouls laughed, a sound which really drove home the hyena resemblance.

 

None of them looked behind themselves.

 

Thus, none of them saw Kyi step up out of the shadows on the right edge of the semicircle, kama in hand. The curved blade reached out, almost delicately, and hooked the jaw of one of the ghouls. She drew the kama back, slicing its throat open from one side to the other, and then faded back into the darkness. The whole thing only took a second or so.

 

By the time the others reacted to what had just happened, the ghoul had already hit the ground, surrounded by a rapidly growing pool of blood.

 

While their attention was diverted, I made my move. Two long steps brought me within reach of the lead ghoul. He looked back at me, and started to move, but it was too late. Tyrfing started down on the stroke that would take his head.

 

And then, with no warning whatsoever, there was someone else standing next to him. She reached out and grabbed my wrist, stopping my swing cold, though she didn’t look nearly strong enough to do such a thing.

 

I wasn’t surprised, though. Natalie wasn’t the most combat-capable vampire I’d met, but she was still a vampire.

 

“Peace, Winter,” she said, her voice more serious than usual. “These people are here under our protection.”

 

I glared at her and jerked my arm away. She didn’t try to stop me. “I wasn’t informed of their presence.”

 

“That doesn’t give you the right to initiate violence against them,” Natalie said. She didn’t sound happy.

 

I smiled. “I didn’t initiate violence,” I said sweetly. “I approached openly and started a conversation. I was open and honest regarding my motives and authority. I offered them multiple opportunities to discuss the situation and come to a peaceful resolution. I explicitly warned them that I would use lethal force if they didn’t cooperate. After all that, I was well within my rights to defend myself when they attacked.”

 

Natalie glanced from me to the leader of the ghouls. “Jibril. Is this true?”

 

He glowered at me. “He didn’t say he was Winter Wolf-born,” he muttered sullenly.

 

“No,” I said. “But I informed you of the authority I was here under. It isn’t my fault that you didn’t ask for my name or rank.”

 

“Well,” Natalie said, glaring daggers at Jibril. “It would appear that you weren’t in the wrong here, Winter. We won’t be taking action against you as a result of your actions tonight.”

 

“Hang on,” I said. “You still haven’t addressed the question of why you’ve moved a large group of violent ghouls into my territory without my permission. That’s a pretty blatant violation of our treaty.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Natalie said. “But I’m not in a position to answer that question now.”

 

There was a long, pregnant pause, broken only by the sound of Jibril’s claws extending and retracting. I could see Kyi lurking behind the ghouls, seemingly unnoticed by everyone else, spinning a knife in one hand. She was clearly ready to burst into action at the slightest signal from me.

 

“I see,” I said at last. “There will be repercussions for this, Natalie. There will be consequences.”

 

“Yes,” the vampire said. Then, without fanfare, she disappeared.

 

“I really hate that trick,” I said to no one in particular.

 

“Agreed,” Jibril said. “Shame we’re on opposite sides, jarl. I suspect we could get along.”

 

“I suspect you’re right,” I said. “But that’s how it goes.”

 

The ghoul sighed and nodded, then turned and walked away, his human guise returning as he went. The other ghouls trailed after him, many shooting hateful glances at me as they left.

 

I noticed that they took all the corpses with them. Ghouls are always hungry.

 

I sighed and sheathed Tyrfing, wincing slightly at the pain in my ribs. I was going to be feeling those bruises for a while.

 

Kris flew down a few seconds after the ghouls left, changing ten feet above the ground. She did a frontflip on the way down, presumably because she could, and landed on her feet with casual grace. “Hey,” she said. “What was the deal there at the end?”

 

“Vampires,” I said grimly. “Turns out they’re the ones that moved the ghouls in.”

 

Kris grunted and nodded. “Figures. Did you work it out?”

 

I shrugged. “Sort of. Dealt with the immediate issues, I guess. Didn’t really resolve anything.”

 

“We killed a bunch of them,” she pointed out.

 

“Not as many as you might think,” I said. “Ghouls are tough. But yeah, we killed a few. Does that bother you?” Kris didn’t enjoy violence nearly as much as the rest of my minions, and she had the strongest moral center of the bunch.

 

She shrugged. “Not really. I mean, you tried to solve things peacefully. Not really our fault if they won’t give us a chance, I don’t think.”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Speaking of, what was that bit with the claw? I haven’t seen that before.” I hadn’t seen any kind of partial transformation, in fact. As far as I’d known, all of my shapeshifters were limited to just the one human and one animal form. Vigdis could do multiple animals, but she also wasn’t quite a shapeshifter, and even she couldn’t do partial forms.

 

“I’ve been working out,” Kris said, shrugging. “You want to get out of here before somebody shows up?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. We hadn’t made that much noise fighting, but it was best to be careful with that sort of thing. Especially for me. “You’d probably better go bird. Don’t want to get hit with a public indecency charge.”

 

Kris snorted and made a rude gesture at me, then leapt into the air. I sighed and checked that my disguise was in place, then started trudging back towards the truck. I hadn’t done all that much, but I felt exhausted, and not physically. This outing had been supposed to make me feel better, giving me a simple problem that I could actually solve, but I felt more tired than before on the way back.

 

I saw Kyi every now and then, pacing me, and my allies circled overhead. It didn’t comfort me as much as it might have.

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

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It was a light month for petitions. There were only three people there waiting to hear me pronounce judgment upon them, as though I were in any way competent to do so.

 

The first was a dark-skinned man who claimed to have been conned by a local small-time practitioner. Something about using mental magic to steal his identity and rack up some serious debts, along with getting him put on several watch lists. He wasn’t involved with the supernatural himself, but the cops hadn’t been able or willing to help him, and he’d heard that I could provide an alternative form of justice. I’m pretty sure he thought I was an extremely eccentric mob boss of some sort.

 

He made a pretty good case, and the mage in question hadn’t shown up to defend himself, which was rather telling. I handed down a heavy penalty, with some satisfaction.

 

I wasn’t punishing him for the crime, odd as that may sound. I’d known from the start that I couldn’t enforce mundane law on the people I was in charge of, and I hadn’t even tried. Any kind of law enforcement on my part would be a slippery slope of dangerous and ethically dubious situations, and in the end I couldn’t really hope to do much.

 

But it was one of the unspoken rules of the community that you didn’t get normal people wrapped up in supernatural issues. If this guy had used magic to do this? If he’d done it so clumsily that even someone who was utterly clueless about this stuff managed to catch on and figure out what he’d done?

 

Yeah, I could punish him for that.

 

The second case was a trickier one, involving a property dispute over a stolen inheritance. Both of the individuals in question agreed that it had been stolen from a third party. The question was whether the changeling or the kitsune had been the one who deserved the proceeds of the theft. Both parties claimed responsibility for the deed, and each claimed that the other had attempted to muscle in after it was already done and steal the credit.

 

It was a complicated situation, with no clear answer. Making it worse, I was pretty sure that the whole thing was a con of some sort, and I had no idea what the hell they thought they were going to get out of it. So, as much out of spite as anything, I split the money between the two, and then gave each the choice of either owing me a favor or forfeiting their share, as payment for making me waste my time. Both of them agreed to the latter, so smoothly that I was sure they hadn’t really wanted the money in the first place. Still had no idea what the point had been, though.

 

The best part? The inheritance was less than a thousand dollars. I seriously couldn’t make that situation make sense.

 

The final petition was a much more pleasant and straightforward one. For one thing, it wasn’t actually a variant on a court case. It was just someone wanting help, and thinking that I could provide it. She claimed that a monster of some sort had abducted her nephew off the street the previous week, and she wanted me to rescue him. Failing that, she wanted bloody vengeance, and she wanted it to hurt.

 

I could respect that.

 

I ended up sending Selene and Kjaran with her to get the full story, take a look at the area, and maybe canvass the neighborhood. If her story checked out, we’d be going in in force. Snatching kids off the street isn’t something I can tolerate, and doing it that openly violated the unofficial code of conduct, as well. All things considered, I was pretty sure I could offer her that vengeance, if nothing else.

 

She left with my minions, and I looked around the throne room warily. It was barely dusk, my work for the day was done, and nothing catastrophic had happened. None of the issues of the day had been that pressing, and the resolutions didn’t seem as though they would be that difficult or muddled. As far as I could tell, nothing had come up that was relevant to the situation Scáthach had been telling me about.

 

I was pretty on edge by this point. I didn’t get this lucky. That just wasn’t a thing that happened.

 

I was just about to tell my remaining housecarls to disperse and go about their business when someone knocked on the door. It was a polite sort of knock, loud enough that we would definitely hear but not loud enough to be obnoxious. Other than that I didn’t notice anything remarkable about the sound.

 

Of course, I thought. It couldn’t have been easy, oh no.

 

Out loud, I said, “Sveinn? Get that, if you please.”

 

He nodded and went to the door. A few seconds later he returned, trailing behind a big guy in a pale grey suit. He had very dark skin and an unfriendly expression.

 

The thing I noticed most about the newcomer, though, was his attitude. Most people are afraid when they enter the mansion, at least a little. They’re walking into a literal den of monsters, surrounded by a gang of superhuman thugs with a fondness for violence and little in the way of remorse. It’s even more pronounced if they know who I am, because at this point, I have something of a reputation as an unpredictable, violent person with a tendency to kill everyone who opposes him. Most people are a little nervous in the face of all that, especially if they’re alone.

 

This guy wasn’t. He walked in like he owned the place, and that confidence was a little unsettling to me.

 

The second thing I noticed was that he reeked of magic. The primary note was the disinfectant-like odor of human magic, with underlying tones of fire and something astringent, almost like ethanol. I’d smelled stronger human mages, but not often, and it seldom boded well.

 

The third thing I noticed was the piece of metal pinned to his suit coat, almost like a sheriff’s badge. It was a starburst of some metal I didn’t recognize, a little more reddish than copper, with a pair of crossed spears inset in gold. That was the symbol of the Guards, the branch of the Conclave that dealt with applications of military force. They weren’t soldiers, precisely, but there was a lot of overlap.

 

After noticing all that, I wouldn’t have wanted to start a fight with this guy. Not even here.

 

“Hello, jarl,” he said. His voice was a fairly unremarkable baritone, with a definite Southern accent.

 

“Hello,” I said warily. “You’re with the Guards?”

 

“I am the head of the organization,” he said, not without some pride.

 

Wonderful. He wasn’t just a Guard. He was Guard, singular, the big one, the highest-ranked out of the bunch, one of the biggest names in the Conclave. If his power was anything like the other people on that level that I’d met, he could chew me up and spit me out without even trying.

 

“Is this an official visit?” I asked. “Or are you here under the table?”

 

He grinned, showing brilliantly white, perfectly even teeth. “Some of both.”

 

I sighed. Of course he was. I knew there was trouble coming.

 

“Clear the room, please,” I said. I didn’t want my housecarls here for the next part. There was a good chance that what Guard had to say wasn’t something he wanted spread around, and an even better chance that this interaction wasn’t something I wanted them to witness. With minions like them, maintaining a constant image of strength and confidence is critically important. The second they started to think I was weak, I would be in a bad place.

 

They went without protest, although there was some hesitation and backward glances. Once they were gone, I leaned back in my throne and looked at Guard. “What’s this about?” I asked.

 

“An accusation has been brought against you,” he said, still smiling. “An allegation that you caused the unlawful death of the mage Zhang Qiang.”

 

I managed to keep my reaction to that statement off my face, though it wasn’t easy. “Who am I accused by?” I asked. As far as I knew only Watcher could prove my involvement in that, and she wasn’t about to speak up on the topic. Not when she’d been deeper in it than me, and a hell of a lot more exposed to political blowback.

 

“That’s confidential,” he said. “It’s the policy of the Conclave not to expose any of its members’ identities to outsiders.”

 

I grunted. It was bullshit, but that was to be expected. One of the lessons that had been drilled into me repeatedly was that the major players would walk all over you if you didn’t have a comparable force backing you up. It wasn’t that surprising that the mage clans would cover for one of their own and refuse to let me confront my accuser. Contrary to any principle of justice, but not surprising.

 

“The Conclave is holding an assembly tomorrow,” Guard continued, not giving me a chance to complain. Not that I would have had anything to say in any case. “The accusation against you is one of the topics being addressed. It would reflect poorly on you if you weren’t there to defend yourself.”

 

“Tomorrow?” I said incredulously. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t expect me to show up and defend myself against this accusation on one day’s notice. That’s absurd.”

 

“You’re legally required to be notified in advance of the hearing,” he said. “It doesn’t specify how much warning you have to have in the codes.” He sighed and shook his head, his posture becoming slightly less formal. “Look, Wolf. You’ve upset a lot of people. You’re an unknown factor, and people don’t like that. You’ve gathered a lot of power in a short time, and nobody really knows why. Then you killed one of the most respected, well-connected mages in the world, and…well, it makes people wonder.”

 

“Allegedly killed,” I said. I wouldn’t put it past him for that whole spiel to be a way of slipping that little one by so that he could say that I hadn’t denied it.

 

“Of course,” he said. “My mistake. It hardly matters, though, because to these people? You’re scary. You’re the new kid in school, with an ugly reputation and links to some scary groups. There are a lot of people who don’t care whether you killed him or not, they just want an excuse to get rid of you.”

 

I frowned, but I couldn’t argue too much. I mean, I did have that kind of a reputation. I did have links to some people that I wouldn’t be comfortable confronting. It kind of made sense that people would treat me this way.

 

Oh, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t justified. I wasn’t powerful enough to ruffle the feathers of most clan mages, let alone threaten the entire Conclave. But I looked pretty badass on paper, with the things I’d done. They had no way of knowing that it had been mostly luck and assistance that let me pull it off, or that I’d been manipulated every step of the way by people vastly stronger than myself.

 

The funny thing was that I’d cultivated that rep deliberately, to scare away challengers and make people hesitate before they threatened me. It hadn’t quite occurred to me that it would also make me a target.

 

“Where’s the meeting?” I asked, trying to cover for the long pause.

 

“London, twenty-four hours from now,” he said, pulling a small envelope out of his pocket. He handed it to me and I gingerly tucked it into my cloak. “That contains the details and your entrance pass. It will get you through the security cordon.”

 

“Thank you for the notification,” I said.

 

“Just doing my job,” Guard said, shrugging. “And, now that I’ve done that job, you mind if I give you some advice? Off the books.”

 

“I’m willing to hear you,” I said. “Can’t guarantee I’ll listen.”

 

“Fair,” he said, nodding. “You want my advice? Plead guilty. Admit responsibility, say you’re sorry, and odds are good they’ll let you off with a blood price. It’ll look a lot better than if you deny it and then someone comes up with proof.”

 

“If the concern is that someone would prove me guilty,” I said dryly, “then isn’t beating them to the punch somewhat counterproductive?”

 

He shook his head. “The people who are against you won’t care,” he said. “Like I said, this is more of an excuse than anything. But for the people who are on your side, or on the fence about it, it looks a lot worse if you try to cover it up. Trust me.”

 

I nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “Is that all?”

 

He nodded. “That’s it. Thanks for hearing me out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Wolf.”

 

I sat in my empty throne room for several minutes after he left, debating various options with myself. None of them looked good, and thinking about it wasn’t helping.

 

“Screw it,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dialed a number from memory.

 

“Hey, Winter,” Selene said a few moments later. “What’s up?”

 

“The two reports you got earlier,” I said. “Ghouls on the edge of town, monster in the sewer. Which one would you say is more plausible?”

 

“Neither one is, really,” she said. “But the ghouls were reported by a more reliable source.”

 

“Right,” I said. “You gave Kyi the details on location?”

 

“And Vigdis,” she confirmed. “They were planning to leave right after you finished hearing petitions.”

 

“Right,” I said. “I’ll be taking point on that operation myself.”

 

“That isn’t wise,” she said disapprovingly.

 

“Probably not, but I’m feeling the need for a problem that I can solve.”

 

“You’re the boss,” she said, her tone making it clear that she still thought this was an extremely stupid thing to do. “Just tell me you aren’t going to do something reckless.”

 

“Of course not,” I said lightly. “Aiko would feel left out.”

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

The next two weeks passed in a blur.

 

Aiko was in a funk after running into her mother, but she pulled out of it. Two days later, she seemed totally unaffected, though I knew that much of that was a mask.

 

I started laying the background for my mirror focus, and made minor improvements to my cloak of shadows. I mixed a potion, something I’d only recently learned to do. I added another layer to the warding spells around the castle, though I doubted it was necessary. At this point, the place was so heavily fortified that any more protections were largely redundant. I went with Aiko on a trip to Thailand, where we set fire to a bar, started a minor riot that turned into a major riot, and killed twenty-three members of a gang that was involved in human trafficking.

 

The whole time, though, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I felt like there was a sword hanging over me, just out of sight, and at any moment it might fall on me without warning. Everything I knew about Scáthach told me that this wasn’t over, that she wasn’t going to leave me be this easily.

 

Except that, apparently, she was. And that just scared me even more.

 

It was with that feeling of slowly building dread that I traveled back to Colorado Springs. I didn’t spend much time there anymore, though on some level it would always be my home. It was just too dangerous. I was an internationally wanted criminal, of course—there’s really no other option, when they think you blew up a decent chunk of an American city and killed twenty thousand people—but most of the time I was safe enough, so long as I kept my face covered. But in Colorado Springs, there were a lot of people who might recognize me, and they were a lot less likely to have forgotten the incident.

 

But I was still the jarl of the city, and that entailed certain responsibilities. One of them was that I settle disputes among my so-called subjects, which was hard to do without being present. I suppose I could have done it by phone or something, but that would have been seriously detrimental to my image.

 

It wasn’t that much of a strain, in any case. When I first started the gig, I heard petitions every week. Now, well, I went in once a month. Most of the time there were only a handful of people seeking judgments. Most of my so-called subjects were too scared of me to ask.

---

 

I stepped out of the portal literally on the front steps of the mansion, where I only had to take two steps to open the front door and step inside. No one would have had a chance to see me.

 

Stepping inside, I found my face about six inches away from a broadhead arrowhead.

 

“Good afternoon, Kyi,” I said. “Is everything good here?”

 

The jotun lowered her bow, relaxing the tension. “Já,” she said, nodding. “All goes well this day.”

 

“Good,” I said, stepping past her into the building proper. “I’ll want you in your usual position in an hour. Until then, your time’s your own. I would appreciate it if you could send Selene in to talk with me.”

 

“Já, minn herra,” she said. “I will send her.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Kyi shook her head, scowling disapprovingly. With the tattoos around her eyes and along her hairline, she had a pretty impressive scowl. “Jarls do not say thank you,” she said severely.

 

“Why are you still here?” I asked, continuing into the throne room. “I gave you an order.”

 

“Better,” she said, sounding somewhat mollified. I didn’t hear any footsteps as she left, but then, I wouldn’t. This was Kyi Greyfell we were talking about, after all. If you heard her, it was because she wanted you to.

 

In the throne room I walked up and stared at the throne for several moments. It looked dramatic as hell, a massive, solid thing made from black iron. The wall behind it was windowed on the lower ten feet, with my coat of arms above it. The resulting image was more than a little intense, especially at night.

 

Of course, the throne was also uncomfortable as hell. I didn’t notice as much as I used to, but I still wasn’t looking forward to sitting in it. Not that that mattered. Maintaining my image was more important than being comfy right now.

 

So I sighed and sat in the throne, slouching slightly. A minor effort of will reshaped my cloak into a sort of puddle around me, exposing gleaming armor. It was white and black, covered in ridges and spikes, with accents in cold colors. There were tiny runes inset into the colored trim, although I doubted anyone would get close enough to see them.

 

Besides, the helmet was far more attention-grabbing. It covered my face completely, the mask styled after a wolf’s face with startling realism. In the firelight, it could look almost alive.

 

I’ve always worn armor to these events. It fits with my martial image, in addition to soothing my paranoia. But I used to leave the helmet off. I wanted to put some semblance of a human face on my organization, and I didn’t want to unsettle people too badly.

 

These days, I didn’t care. I was done with pretending to be a kind, supportive ruler. I was even more done pretending to be human. So what if I scared the people who came to me for help? They were scared anyway. They had to be, or they wouldn’t be asking me to help them.

 

I wasn’t a person you went to when you wanted good things to happen. At best, I made bad things happen to people that deserved them. At best.

 

Less than thirty seconds after I sat down, Selene walked into the room. The most recent of my full-time minions, she played a rather different role than the housecarls. She was a demon out of Hell, or a reasonably good facsimile thereof. In her old job she seduced people into evil, figuratively and literally. It showed in her bearing, too; Selene always walked as though she were on a catwalk, and every movement was sensual. It wasn’t even conscious anymore.

 

I didn’t give her assignments like that. I did occasionally send her when I wanted to not scare someone shitless, as she was far better at it than any of the rest of us. By and large, though, she’d taken on a role as my steward, managing my various minions and making sure that everything was kept in operational status.

 

Sveinn used to manage that, but I was just as glad to have someone else doing part of it. I hadn’t been happy having all that responsibility solely on one person. It was too easy for something to go wrong, and then where would I be?

 

Besides, my organization had grown considerably since then. When I’d started as jarl, it had just been me and the six jötnar, not counting Aiko and Snowflake. Now I had all of them, Selene, half a dozen mages, a handful of werewolves on retainer, and a gang of half-breed fae and changelings that was somewhere between taking jobs from me and actually being in my employ. That wasn’t even counting a sizable network of informants, or the dozen or so normal humans who did odd jobs for me without ever realizing who they were working for. Managing all that was more than one person could do.

 

“Winter,” Selene said, approaching. She treated me a little more casually than the housecarls. That was largely because we were a lot closer to being social equals. As Coyote’s granddaughter, Selene was accorded a fair amount of respect. Not as much as I was, just because I had a lot more in the way of personal reputation than she did, but it was still a far cry from my relationship with the jötnar.

 

“Good afternoon, Selene,” I said. “How are things in the city?”

 

“Not bad this week,” she said. “Protesters have been quiet, though that can’t last.”

 

I sighed. “We aren’t going to kill them for speaking up against me, Selene. Not when they’re right, at least a little bit.”

 

“You’re the boss,” she said, though her tone was skeptical. “Anyway, there isn’t any real news for the week. There’s a report of ghouls hiding out on the edge of town. One of our informants claims to have seen some sort of monster being herded into the sewers downtown. Neither report is corroborated.”

 

“Still worth checking out,” I said. “Send Kris, Kyi, and Vigdis to look into the ghouls. Recon only, get out if they think they’re in danger. I want confirmation of the ghouls’ presence and a location, numbers if they can manage it. For the sewers, I want Matthew, Haki, and…see if Jackal will go, or send one of her people. Standard rates. Same instructions for that group. Identify the thing if they can.”

 

“You got it,” Selene said. She didn’t write any of it down, but I was confident that she would remember every word. “You want them on this tonight?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “As soon as possible after the hearings. Is there anything else?” I would have sent them sooner, but I liked to have my housecarls around while I heard petitions. They made for a nice display of force.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Kikuchi sent a messenger this morning. You and Aiko are invited to a dinner he’s hosting next month. Katrin also left a message requesting that you provide a security detail for a meeting this Thursday. She’s offering payment.”

 

I grunted. “For the dinner, check my schedule. If there’s anything conflicting let me know. Otherwise thank him and tell him we’ll be there unless something urgent comes up. For the other….” I frowned, thinking. I didn’t like that. Katrin knew that I wasn’t fond of her. “How much is she offering?”

 

“Fifty thousand,” Selene said promptly. “Half up front. One night, less than eight hours.”

 

I nodded slowly. A considerable payment, but not absurdly so. That said something. She thought I would want to be there without her needing to provide an exorbitant reward. Considering how little I wanted to be there, that meant there was some other reason I should go. Information I would want to have, perhaps.

 

Either that, or she was conning me. Could go either way with Katrin.

 

“Tell her I’ll provide a detail for that price,” I said. “But I can’t guarantee her security without more information on the nature of the meeting. Not on three days’ notice.”

 

She nodded. “Will do. Those were the only messages.”

 

“Good,” I said. “Could you send Tindr in? I want to go over the finances.”

 

Selene nodded again. “Of course. Do you want some food? There should be enough time for a quick bite before people start showing up.”

 

“Tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said. “Something strong.”

 

“We have a decent Darjeeling,” she offered.

 

“That sounds great.”

 

Selene nodded and left. A couple minutes later, Tindr came in.

 

Tindr the Exile was something of an anomaly among my housecarls. He seldom carried weapons, and he normally wore a suit. He wasn’t useless in a fight, although I sometimes referred to him as though he were. Like all jötnar he was stronger and, in his natural form, considerably larger than a human. Like all my housecarls, he’d had basic military training. He was more than a match for your average person. It was just that, in my circles, that didn’t mean much. I didn’t need help for fighting average people.

 

More importantly, though, I would have to be insane to use Tindr in a fight. He was far more valuable here, helping to manage and coordinate my growing empire. The thing that set him apart from my other housecarls was his brain. Tindr was clever, quick-witted, and had a knack for mathematics that I could only envy. It hadn’t taken him long to learn the ins and outs of mortal finance.

 

“Jarl,” he said, entering the throne room. He was carrying a folding table in one hand and a heavy binder in the other.

 

“Tindr,” I said. “Give me numbers.”

 

He nodded and walked over to my throne. He handed me the binder and set the table up. I set the binder on it once he was finished.

 

“We got an anomalous payment on Friday,” he said as I flipped the binder open to the current balance sheet. “Some group in Thailand paying for your services?”

 

“We wiped out a group of human traffickers there not long ago,” I said absently, scanning the numbers. Everything seemed to look all right. Not that I would know if it didn’t; this was Tindr’s realm. It was my money, but I was a stranger here. “Really wasn’t expecting them to pay me for it. Hell, I’m surprised anyone knew it was me.”

 

“Really?” he said, frowning. “If you don’t mind my asking, my lord, why would you do it, then?”

 

“Not at all,” I said, most of my attention on the binder. “Aiko needed to blow off some steam.”

 

He hesitated, as though he expected me to say more, then shook his head. “You exterminated a gang of slavers just because your girlfriend needed an outlet?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

 

“Sure. Why? Is that surprising?”

 

“Coming from you, not really,” Selene said, handing me a cup the size of a thermos. She gave a similar but smaller cup to Tindr and then dropped a large roast beef sandwich on the table next to the binder.

 

“I didn’t say I was hungry,” I told her.

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always hungry,” she pointed out. Which, for the time I’d known her, was more accurate than she realized. “Forty minutes to showtime.”

 

“We’ll be ready,” I promised. I took a sip of tea, and winced; it was painfully hot in my mouth. Not that that took all that much. Since Loki changed me, my body temperature was typically measurably lower than the ambient temperature. “Okay, Tindr. Give me the update.”

 

He turned the binder to face him and flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Payments from the businesses in town came in as usual,” he said. I hadn’t intended to start running a protection racket, but a handful of people in the local supernatural community had started paying me for keeping the peace, and it sort of snowballed from there. “Katrin made an unusually large contribution. Your investments are also doing well, although we did offload some of the gold reserves.”

 

“Skip the routine stuff for now,” I said. “I want to focus on covering any new developments before I hear petitions.”

 

“Of course,” Tindr said, flipping past a couple of pages. “Let’s see. We finalized the purchase of that construction company in North Dakota. It’s been fairly profitable in recent years, and we should also be able to use it as another laundering front. I’ve also been in talks with a potential factor in South Africa. He’s willing to pay ten percent over what we typically charge for stored spells provided we get them there within a week.”

 

I thought for a second, chewing on sandwich. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t picky. “There should still be a decent selection in the storage unit on thirty-first street. Send him some of those and if he likes the quality we can enter negotiations for custom work. I assume you can arrange transportation for the shipment?”

 

“Right,” he said, making a note in the binder. “And yes, of course I can handle the shipping. He’s also expressed an interest in the armaments Kjaran’s producing. He isn’t as enthused about those, but I think I can talk him around if you want.”

 

Kjaran was another of my housecarls, the creepiest in my opinion. I’d had no idea he was a competent blacksmith until about a month earlier, when he asked to set up a forge in the basement. If everything was going according to plan, he should start churning out swords, knives, and axes pretty soon. Oddly enough, knowing that he was an artisan just made Kjaran seem even eerier to me.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “But don’t promise anything and definitely don’t ship anything until I’ve had a chance to do quality control on what he’s making. I’ve got a reputation for providing quality goods, and I don’t want to take any chances with it.”

 

“Understood,” he said, making another note. “I think those are the only actions that needed your approval. Regarding expenses, we’ve got…doesn’t look like anything remarkable this week. Standard expenses.”

 

I frowned and thought about the numbers I’d just read. “It isn’t enough, is it.”

 

Tindr did not pretend not to understand me. “No,” he said. “It isn’t. You’re paying several thousand in wages every week. Add in upkeep, rent, bribes, material expenses, contract payments, and…no. You’re barely breaking even as it stands. When you consider the occasional large payment for a special service or unanticipated expense, we’ve been seeing a slow but steady drain for the past year.”

 

I sighed. “Give me the balance as it stands.”

 

He flipped to another page. “In the operational account, three and a half million, pending a one and a half million expenditure to purchase that construction company. In your personal account, eleven million. An additional seventy million in real estate, stocks, and other assets.”

 

It was still baffling to me that I could have so much money and still need to evaluate the situation every week or risk insolvency. On some level I was still a broke carpenter living hand to mouth, and eleven million dollars was an almost nonsensically large amount.

 

But I didn’t live in that world anymore. With my current lifestyle and activity patterns, I could easily burn through five million in a high-expenditure month. Having less than twenty million in cash between all my accounts was a somewhat risky position to be in.

 

“Transfer another three million from my personal accounts to the operational fund,” I said. “And step back the monthly donation fund by ten percent.”

 

He made a few more notes. “Are there any organizations in particular you want to cut from the donations?”

 

I sighed. “No, not right now. I’ll look at the list later. For now just cut all the donations equally. And I want you to start making inquiries into mercenary work.”

 

“Are you considering hiring yourself out?”

 

“Not really, no. I was more thinking that I have a shortage of funds, and I have a bunch of bored minions who need something to do. Maybe the one problem can solve the other.”

 

Tindr smiled. “Right. I can start looking into the going rates.”

 

“Do that. But don’t make any promises. And keep this to yourself for now.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Good,” I said. “Also, contact the Watchers. Ask if they’re interested in buying back Brick’s debt. Again, no promises, and don’t spread it around. I’m just checking whether they’re interested, and if so how much they’re willing to pay. Don’t limit the negotiations to cash, either; I’m willing to take payment from the Watchers in kind.”

 

“Understood,” he said, jotting down several more notes. “I’ll open communications tomorrow. Do you want a report when I’ve got numbers?”

 

“Save it for our meeting next week,” I said. “The situation isn’t urgent.” I stuffed the last of the sandwich into my mouth and washed it down with the last drink of tea. “Get going,” I said. “You’ve got work to do, and we need to get ready for this.”

 

“Of course,” he said, collecting the binder and table. “Good luck, jarl.”

 

I grunted. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna need it.”

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

Winter recently requested that I start keeping track of the things that I am not allowed to do in the laboratory, so that I could no longer use “oops, I forgot” as an excuse. Now, obviously, I would not normally accept this. However, in this case I’ve decided to tolerate him, because I like him and because, as we all know, life is more exciting when it’s a challenge. With that in mind, I should remember the following when working around restrictions and relentlessly exploiting their loopholes:

 

1. I am not allowed to call Winter’s pet demon “Your Satanic Majesty.”
   1. “Darth Vader” is also against the rules.
   2. So is “Great Lord Sauron”.
   3. All fictional character names are now off limits.
   4. I am no longer permitted to call the demon anything except “Legion.”
   5. “The skeleton in the closet” is, for unknown reasons, acceptable. When I pointed out the inconsistency involved to Winter, he reminded me that working against your own cause is an                 inefficient way of getting things done.
2. I am not allowed to use the coffee maker.
3. I am not allowed to perform the Cheese Shop routine, even if Legion and/or Snowflake want to help.
   1. All Monty Python routines are now off limits.
   2. Even when performed in mime.
   3. Yes, that includes the songs.
4. I may no longer use the stereo system to play They Might Be Giants, Buck 65, or 3Oh!3. 3Oh!3 is now acceptable provided I use standard versions rather than those adjusted so that vocals are performed by a little girl.
   1. All music is now banned unless specifically approved for laboratory conditions. Approved music includes 3Oh!3, numerous classical compositions, and several rap and rock groups. For    complete list see Document D-0021.
   2. Following the Hamadryad Incident, Wagner is no longer approved.
   3. I am no longer allowed to play Mozart, unless I refrain from making any overt or implied references to a “magic flute” of any kind.
5. I may not drink any alcoholic beverages in the lab.
6. I may not use any laboratory reagents in making edible items.
   1. This includes reagents which are, themselves, edible.
7. I may not call the cops claiming that a meth lab has been established in the building.
8. I am not allowed to feed Snowflake peanut butter.
   1. I am also not allowed to dip any other food or nonfood item in peanut butter and feed it to Snowflake. Filling things with peanut butter is also right out.
   2. This list now also includes honey and chocolate.
   3. Also, all forms of syrup are banned.
   4. And ice cream.
9. I may not design, view, market, or act out pornographic scenarios in the lab.
10. I may not design, etc. pornography which is based on or includes anything I have seen in the lab, including all supernatural creatures.
    1. This applies to pornography which is commercially produced and purchased from mundane sources.
    2. The design and marketing restrictions are now lifted, provided that
       1. I do not ever tell Winter any specific information about it.
       2. I market exclusively to supernatural beings and the stranger sort of Japanese  magazine. ‘Cause honestly, some of them make monsters from the nether realm look pretty tame.
       3. I cut Winter in on all profits.

11. I may not use the Bunsen burners to cook with.
    1. I may no longer cook in the lab using any apparatus. I have also been informed that attempts to further circumvent this rule will result in my being disallowed from eating in the lab.
12. I may not submit lab reports as contenders in the Darwin Awards, regardless of how unlikely they are to win.
13. I may not take pictures of lab phenomena and then upload them to 4chan any message board any Internet location.
14. I may not invite demons to play role-playing games.
    1. Spirits and beings from the Otherside are also included.
    2. All supernatural beings are included.
    3. While in the laboratory, I may not invite anyone except Legion, Snowflake, and Winter to play games of any form.
15. I may not threaten Winter’s contacts with disembowelment if they don’t answer his questions accurately, promptly, and without complaint.
    1. This includes beings which do not, in fact, have bowels.
16. I may not claim responsibility for any natural disasters I did not, in fact, cause.
17. I may not endeavor, or threaten to endeavor, to light any of Winter’s contacts on fire, for any reason.
    1. Salamanders and similar entities are, for obvious reasons, exempt.
18. I may not take or place bets regarding what form of laboratory screwup will lead to Winter’s death.
19. When speaking to or about Legion I may not make any references to “jumping bones,” regardless of how literal or technically accurate they are.
20. I may not proposition any supernatural beings, even as a joke.
21. I may not dress Legion as a Death Eater.
    1. I may no longer dress Legion at all.
    2. Following the Koala Incident, baseball caps are also disqualified.
22. I may not offer to pimp for any supernatural being, in any way and for any purpose, even if it would be very lucrative.
    1. Yes, this applies even if they volunteer.
23. I may not invite friends into the laboratory. And, as strangers are only friends we have yet to meet, they are also covered by this.
    1. I am no longer allowed to invite anyone to the lab, for any reason, without express written approval. Alas, Winter appears to be starting to get the idea of leaving out loopholes in his         orders requests.
24. I am not allowed to give anyone directions to the lab.
    1. Not even to people who already know the way. In fact, especially not to those people.
25. Following the Cashew Incident, I may not tell knock-knock jokes while Winter is performing laboratory procedures.
    1. I may no longer tell any variety of jokes at this time.
26. I may not use profane language around Snowflake, as she already has a potty mouth and requires no assistance on my part.
    1. This applies to curse words in other languages. Strangely, Winter appears to be able to recognize them, even though I know he doesn’t speak German, Russian, or Icelandic.
27. Parcels should be sent directly to Winter’s house or PO Box, and not to the lab.
28. I may not give orders to Legion in any language other than English.
29. I am not allowed to read aloud while any supernatural beings are in the lab.
30. I may not use Legion as an improvised xylophone.
31. I may not videotape a lecture on special relativity, set it to a celebrity sex tape, and play it while supernatural beings are present in the lab.
    1. I may no longer play any videos while such beings are present.
32. “Why not,” “because we can,” and “it would be funny” are not sufficient justification for any experiment.
33. I may not add water to acid. I have been furthermore informed that more gross violations of ordinary lab protocol, or common sense, will result in a standard packet of laboratory practices being added to this list. Needless to say I found this quite amusing.
34. I may not mention this rule, or the incident that led to it, in company, polite, mixed, or otherwise. This includes Winter. Ever again.
35. I am not allowed to use the microscope to examine Snowflake’s claws.
    1. I am no longer allowed to use the microscope for any reason unless I have specific written permission.
36. The lab computer is secure and functionally untraceable. I may not take advantage of this to send hate mail to the Vatican.
    1. Or to attempt to scam the FBI.
    2. Or to post images threatening to tear gas a rodeo.
    3. I am no longer allowed access to the lab computer unless by explicit written permission.
37. I may not talk like a pirate in the lab.
    1. This includes Spanish pirates.
    2. And privateers.
    3. And buccaneers.
    4. And “privately motivated Navy personnel.”
38. In the future, I am not to justify any action as being “For the Emperor!” unless I have an actual emperor in mind.
    1. “For great Justice!” is also out of bounds.
    2. “Because pizza” has been added to the restricted list.
    3. All statements taking the form “Because [noun]” are out.
    4. Strangely enough, “For the lolz” is kosher, as is “‘Cause it was funny.” Winter said that he can’t argue with the truth, which is strange considering how often he does so.
39. Yes, many of the world’s greatest discoveries have come about by accident. Yes, there is often little justification for these endeavors at the time. No, that doesn’t make “it seemed like a good idea at the time” a good reason for an experiment. Generally speaking this is a phrase we do not want to say in regards to lab activity.
40. I may not attempt to matchmake for any supernatural being. Not even the Jewish ones.
41. Lewis Black is not to be considered appropriate listening material for the laboratory.
42. I am not allowed to ask supernatural beings the answer to “the Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything.”
    1. Following the Steampunk Incident, I may not ask supernatural beings any existential questions whatsoever.
43. I may not check out poisonous materials from the lab and then use them to drug my cousin, regardless of how informative this will be. Even though she’s a total bitch.
44. I may not offer to purchase a “thrill ride” from anyone who is not aware of Legion’s fondness for possessing people in order to share sensory experiences. Anyone who is aware is, of course, fair game.
45. I am not allowed to give out the contact information for any of Winter’s contacts to xenophiles as a form of schmuck bait.
    1. I may no longer give out this information to anyone, for any reason, without express written permission.
46. As I am possessed of actual magical powers which would cause David Blaine to resign in shame, there is no need to pretend to powers I do not have using gibberish incantations, sleight of hand, and carefully timed special effects.
47. I may not alter the labels on any laboratory reagents or equipment.
48. I may not enter the laboratory when drunk or under the influence of any other psychoactive chemicals.
    1. Psychosomatic effects produced by nonchemical means are also included.
49. I am not permitted to submit lab reports thinly disguised as fiction to writing groups. Although, after the ratings that last one received, I don’t really want to anyway.
50. I am not allowed to carry weapons in the lab.
51. I may not use lab equipment to produce drugs for sale.
    1. Alcohol is okay.
52. I may not set off fireworks in the lab.
53. I may not spike Winter’s potions with hallucinogens.
    1. Or vodka.
    2. All additives are now off limits.
54. I may not justify adding those little candy-things to soda as an experiment.
55. I am no longer permitted to tell fictional horror stories about my old boyfriends in the lab.
    1. Factual horror stories are also out of bounds.
    2. Horror stories about old girlfriends are also banned.
    3. All stories about previous sexual partners are now banned.
56. I may not tape a “Lick Me” sign to Winter’s back in the lab.
    1. I may no longer attach “[verb] Me” signs to anyone, by any means, while in the laboratory.
57. I may not practice gymnastic routines while in the lab.
58. I may not enter the lab if wearing a toga.
    1. This restriction also applies to robes, particularly when paired with a wizard hat and/or glasses.
59. The lab is not an appropriate location for interpretive dance.
60. Subsequent to the Steampunk Incident, I may not do anything involving cowboy boots and a scale model of Cincinnati.
    1. I also am not allowed to blame Winter or lab activities for the destruction of any property. Apparently, if I didn’t have a better excuse than that, I shouldn’t have had my aunt’s priceless jade vase in the laboratory to begin with.
61. Following the Steampunk Incident, I may not attempt to invoke, abjure, or exorcise any supernatural beings using a tuning fork, a glass of punch, or a hairbrush.
62. I may not utilize phosphoric acid as a drink additive in the lab.
    1. I may also not try that trick from school where you drink the sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric acid. Apparently my math was off, and Legion doesn’t like people throwing up on      his bones.
63. I am not allowed to simulate a fire alarm in the lab.
    1. I am also not allowed to install an actual fire alarm in the lab.
64. I may not sing in the lab.
65. I may not set off firecrackers in the laboratory.
66. Following the Noodle Incident, I may not offer to get takeout for any supernatural beings.
67. I am not permitted to claim that I, or anyone or anything else, is in any way superior to any deity.
    1. I may also not claim that I etc. is in any way worse than any deity. Apparently the oddest things are points of pride to some gods. The story about the man uglier than Bugel Noz was                particularly entertaining.
    2. All comparisons to deities are now off-limits.
68. I may not shave Snowflake while in the lab. Not even if she consents.
    1. Dye jobs are now banned for both myself and Snowflake.
69. I may not turn into a fox and pose with Snowflake and Legion for a “Three Dog Night” themed photograph.
70. I do not have the authority to issue a fatwa against anyone or anything.
71. I may not bring in live rats as a present for Snowflake.
    1. All live animals are prohibited except by explicit permission.
72. I may not make any references to a “Deathburger” while in the lab.
    1. Any noun using the prefix “Death-” is off limits. Apparently there are things that take that kind of thing seriously.
73. I am not allowed to suggest the use of bagpipes in any lab activities.
    1. Rituals involving leprechauns are excepted.
74. I may not fake injuries while in the lab.
    1. I am also not allowed to convince Flake to fake injuries in the lab. It took some work to convince her to go along with the tomato soup, too.
75. I am not allowed to cry over spilled acetone.
76. Nail polish is not allowed in the laboratory.
77. I may not give supernatural beings nicknames of any kind.
    1. Not even if their chosen names are physically impossible to pronounce.
    2. Not even if the nickname is physically impossible to pronounce.
78. I may not attempt to hypnotize any supernatural beings.
79. I am not allowed to make or watch any kind of video in the lab.
80. I may not play any form of video game while in the laboratory.
81. I may not respond “Challenge accepted” to any phrase which does not, in fact, contain a challenge.
82. Likewise, I am prohibited from adding “no pun intended” to a statement which cannot be interpreted as containing any puns.
    1. Puns which require knowledge of multiple languages and/or psychoactive drugs to be understood don’t count.
83. I may not take advantage of Snowflake’s blind side to startle her.
    1. Having taken advantage of Snowflake’s blind side to startle her, I am not allowed to complain when she bites me.
84. I may not act as though I do not understand English when in the lab.
85. I may not quote movies in the lab.
    1. The work of the great Mel Brooks is, naturally, exempt. At least he has some taste.
86. Following the Pencil Incident, I may not perform puppetry in the lab.
    1. I am also not allowed to use magic and/or optical illusions to make it appear that I am performing puppetry.
    2. This includes sock puppets.
87. I am not allowed to bring duct tape into the laboratory.
88. I am not allowed to discuss anything with Snowflake and/or Legion which Winter doesn’t know about.
89. As I do not actually serve any functional purpose in the laboratory (ha!), I may not put “laboratory assistant” on my résumé.
90. I may not refer to myself as “Igor.”
    1. I am also not to call Snowflake “Igor,” because she doesn’t like it.
    2. Legion too, as he doesn’t need encouragement.
    3. “Igor” has been added to the list of words banned in the laboratory.
    4. So has “Renfield.”
91. Patent leather is no longer allowed in the laboratory.
92. Following the Bicycle Incident, I may not use writing to bypass restrictions on what I can say in the lab.
    1. Sign language is also prohibited.
    2. All alternative methods of communication are included in this prohibition.
93. I may not use any form of the excuse “My dog ate my homework,” as Snowflake is the closest thing I have to a dog and she does not like the taste of paper.
94. I may not speak largely or exclusively in rhymes in the lab.
    1. This includes reciting poetry.
95. I may not pretend that anything in the laboratory is a work of modern art.
96. Following the Chinchilla Incident, I may not use matches in the laboratory.
97. I am no longer allowed to eat Mexican food directly prior to entering the lab.
98. I may not write lab reports using 1337speak.
    1. Only formal English is allowed for lab reports.
99. I may not reference Calvin and Hobbes in the lab.
100. Woot! Made it to triple digits! Oh, and I’m not allowed to bring plastic explosives or grenades into the laboratory.
101. I may not have LEGOs in the lab.

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

I wrinkled my nose as I walked into the bedroom. I like having an enhanced sense of smell, but there are times when it is a definite handicap. Nail polish qualifies.

 

“Hey,” Aiko said. “How bad is it?” She didn’t look up at me, being more occupied with painting kanji on her thumbnails with crimson polish, vividly colored against the black background. I was guessing the characters were obscene, although I’d never learned to read them well enough to say for sure.

 

“Eh,” I said, collapsing into one of the overstuffed armchairs. Snowflake butted her head against my thigh and I scratched her ears. “Scáthach wanted a favor. Something about some of her minions telling her to be aggressive against the Daylight Court, and she wants me to shut them up.”

 

Aiko froze momentarily, then continued on to the next finger. “So pretty bad, then.”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “I told her no.”

 

The kitsune blinked. “Seriously?”

 

“Yup. I don’t want to touch that kind of mess, and she wasn’t going to kill me for turning her down, not when I might still be useful down the road.”

 

She thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. She won’t like it, though. Could cause trouble for you.”

 

I shrugged. “Probably. I guess you’re rubbing off on me, though. I just don’t care. I mean, I’m gonna get fucked over one way or another. As many people as there are trying to screw with me, it’s pretty much inevitable. Why worry about it?”

 

That’s the attitude! Snowflake said approvingly. Now hurry up and get ready. We need to leave before long.

 

I frowned. “I thought we weren’t leaving for another few hours.”

 

“Your cousin wants to get dinner first,” Aiko said. She can’t hear Snowflake with any reliability, but she’s gotten really good at following half of a conversation. “Maybe in Singapore.”

 

“I don’t know anywhere good in Singapore,” I countered. “How about London?”

 

She shrugged. “Fair enough. I’ll go tell her. You want to get dressed?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

---

 

I hadn’t really done much, but I took a long, hot shower anyway. It sounded relaxing, and after that chat with Scáthach that was exactly what I needed.

 

After that, I toweled off and started dressing. I went with an outfit not unlike what I’d worn to meet with Scáthach, although slightly less formal. The shirt was still silk, but it was dark green, and didn’t have any special decoration. Other than that I mostly went with leather, and draped my cloak over the top. Three knives, a length of chain, two coils of string, two grenades, four pieces of white chalk and two pieces of black, pouches of salt, sand, and ash, and a small bag of my anti-nasty dust went into various pockets, along with half a dozen stored spells.

 

It was a lighter arsenal than I liked to carry, but this was another social event. Nobody would begrudge me a few armaments—the supernatural world is accepting that way—but there were certain limits to be observed. Walking in wearing heavy armor and carrying a shotgun would violate several of them.

 

Once I was finally satisfied, I went downstairs. I found the others waiting for me, with varying degrees of impatience, in the entrance hall.

 

Aiko must have finished getting ready while I was in the shower, because she looked…well, it made an impression. She was wearing a low-cut tunic of green silk and black tights. She’d drawn a complex geometric pattern on her face with some sort of vivid green dye, which contrasted sharply with her cherry-red hair. The end result was…surprisingly appealing.

 

She also had a tanto displayed quite openly on her belt, of course, because this was Aiko. It looked decorative, with a bone handle and jeweled sheath, but I knew quite well that it was a deadly weapon.

 

Aiko crossed the room and hugged me when I entered. I hugged her back, and blocked her hand when she tried to pick my pocket.

 

“You two make a surprisingly cute couple,” Alexis said dryly. “But as far as I know, there isn’t a camera crew here, and we’re running later than we should be.”

 

Aiko snorted and made an elaborate obscene gesture in her vague direction with both hands. But we left.

---

 

There are times, when the supernatural makes a mess of my life, that I’m not fond of magic. That being said, however, it can let you do some pretty cool things.

 

On this occasion, for example, we left the castle in Transylvania at around ten, local time. Two quick Otherside portals later, we were standing in a back alley in Soho, having jumped back two hours in the process. Aiko had no more trouble with the portals than I did, for exactly the same reason. As for Alexis and Snowflake…well, we kept them from throwing up on themselves, at least. That would have been awkward.

 

After that, we enjoyed a pleasant meal at the sort of seedy backstreet restaurant that had no particular objections to letting the scariest-looking husky ever eat at the table. The food was better than you’d expect, from such an establishment. I ate twice as much as any of the others, and walked away hungry, but that was to be expected. It seemed I was always hungry, anymore. Another side effect of whatever Loki had done to me.

 

I try not to think about that too much. It isn’t too hard, most of the time. The vast majority of the alterations were exaggerations of traits I already had. So long as I don’t look in mirrors, I’m only really reminded of all the things I’d lost at mealtimes.

 

It could be worse. It could always be worse.

---

 

An hour or two later, the four of us were stepping out of another portal. This one was a great deal smoother than the previous ones; even Alexis hardly seemed to notice it, and nobody passed out. This portal had been made by someone considerably more skilled than any of us.

 

We’d hardly hit the ground when an androgynous Japanese man stepped up to us. I didn’t recognize him, but the fox-and-spice smell of his magic made it clear that this was a kitsune.

 

Before he could say anything, Aiko dug a crumpled sheet of paper out of her tunic. It looked like it had been torn out of a notebook, complete with coffee stains, a doodle of a crocodile being run over by a tractor, and a half-worked integral. The actual text of the invitation was written in what looked like dried blood in a cramped corner of the page.

 

Aiko claimed that sort of thing was more or less par for the course for this individual, and certainly the other kitsune took it in stride. He glanced at the page, skimmed the writing, then handed it back to her and nodded. We swept past him without a word being said.

 

“You said you’ve seen this guy perform before, right?” Alexis asked as we walked down the narrow corridor leading out of the entrance room.

 

Aiko nodded. “Yeah, once. All of his cousins were invited to that show. It wasn’t nearly as exclusive as tonight’s.” She shrugged. “That was quite a while ago, though. This is the first show he’s done in fifty years.”

 

“That isn’t that long,” I pointed out. “Not for a kitsune.”

 

“Yeah, but this guy’s a special case. He’s a bit wacked in the head, even by our standards. Hell if I know what he’s planning for his big comeback.”

 

As Aiko was saying that, we emerged into a larger room. It wasn’t built on anything like the scale that some Otherside buildings are, though. It wasn’t even that large by the standards of concert halls. The walls were paneled in cherry wood, and there were hanging scrolls and vases of flowers scattered around the walls.

 

People milled throughout the room, talking quietly in an enormous variety of languages. Most of them were kitsune, judging by the smell, but I saw a handful of tengu in their natural, birdlike forms. Here and there one of the Sidhe moved through the crowd, and there were a handful of less recognizable things mixed into the crowd.

 

“The show is supposed to start in about fifteen minutes,” Aiko said. “We’d better find somewhere to sit.”

 

We eventually found a couple of open seats in the third row, directly behind a thin Asian man who smelled strongly of fish and rice paddies. A kappa, I was guessing, though I didn’t have enough experience with them to say for sure. It explained why the seats were empty, at any rate. Aiko had to sit on my lap for all of us to fit, but neither of us particularly objected, and the next available option was eight rows back.

 

After around thirty minutes, the heavy velvet curtains finally pulled open to reveal an extremely tall kitsune. He looked generally human, but had four enormous fox tails, an intermediate shape which I was pretty sure Aiko couldn’t take. Not that that was terribly surprising; power was measured by tail number among the kitsune, and she only had one. There was an order of magnitude between her capabilities and those of a four-tail.

 

He was surrounded by musical instruments, most of which I didn’t recognize. There was a wide variety of taiko drums in a rather absurd range of sizes, a handful of string instruments that I couldn’t name, and several varieties of flute. In addition to these classically Japanese instruments, I also saw a grand piano, two cellos, and what looked like a tuba that had been through a pasta extruder, along with several sets of chimes. Here and there black-clad figures moved among the instruments, checking and rechecking them.

 

The concert itself was…eh. I wasn’t able to really appreciate it, not having that much taste in music and having almost no background in this genre. I didn’t speak the language, either, which limited my appreciation for the recited sections. Aiko seemed to find them deeply amusing, at any rate, which suggested that this particular kitsune’s reputation for eccentricity probably wasn’t overstated. For my part, I was mostly just impressed that he had enough grip strength with his tails to use them to play a taiko.

 

It hardly mattered, anyway. We weren’t here for me. From what I’d gathered, this sort of show was one of the few things Aiko could remember from her youth without some degree of bitterness. We were here primarily for her sake, and secondarily for Alexis’s. I haven’t been the best mentor to my cousin, but I’ve tried to make sure that she gets a chance to have a wide variety of experiences.

 

Aiko was enjoying herself, and Alexis was being exposed to a social event that she sure as hell hadn’t experienced before. As far as I was concerned, that made tonight’s excursion a success. Snowflake and I were pretty much just along to provide tolerably good company.

 

The good mood lasted until the first intermission, at which point the guests were permitted to mingle and converse while the musicians prepared for the next set.

 

I was just debating whether I should go and fetch drinks when another kitsune stepped out of the crowd and stopped in front of us. She was taller than me by a decent margin, wearing a grey kimono with a floral pattern below the waist.

 

I paused and glanced at her again. I was sure that I hadn’t met this kitsune before, but there was something familiar about her features. Between that and the relative formality of her dress and hairstyle, I thought I might know who she was. I was really, really hoping I was wrong, though.

 

“Aiko,” the newcomer said. Her voice was melodious, while somehow still coming across as rather stern.

 

Aiko stood and stared at her. I was scared for a moment that she was about to go for her knife, but instead she took a deep breath and let it out, flexing her fingers at her sides. “Mother,” she said after a long pause.

 

I wasn’t wrong.

 

Oh shit, Snowflake said. Should I hide under a chair, do you think?

 

No, I replied, watching the situation warily. And hush. Not many people could understand her, but it wasn’t unheard of, and the last thing I wanted to do was have her destabilize an already volatile situation.

 

Aiko’s mother looked us over, somehow conveying intense displeasure with numerous aspects of our bearing, manners, and dress without altering her expression in the least, and then turned back to Aiko. She said something in a liquid language that I didn’t know, but which was presumably whatever variant of Japanese the kitsune spoke. Based on what I’d heard of her, I was guessing she wouldn’t be speaking any dialect that had been current for the last several centuries.

 

“I don’t care,” Aiko replied. “My friends speak English. If you want to talk now, you can do the same.”

 

The other kitsune sighed. “Why must you be difficult, child?”

 

“That is not a conversation you want to have,” Aiko said tightly. “Not unless you want me to cause a huge fucking scene, right here, right now.”

 

Apparently her mother wasn’t willing to call that bluff, which was a wise choice. She sighed and made a small, graceful gesture of surrender. “As you wish, my daughter.”

 

Aiko stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “What do you want?” she asked, sounding suddenly very tired.

 

“It has been years since we spoke.”

 

“Not a coincidence,” Aiko said through gritted teeth. “You made it clear that you didn’t want me for your daughter. I was only giving you what you wanted, mother.”

 

She sighed. “You know that isn’t true, Aiko. You know that I love you.”

 

“No,” Aiko interjected. “You don’t. You love the person you want me to be. You love the daughter you wanted to have. But we both know that person isn’t me.” Her voice was still tight, but her expression had gone blank, almost masklike.

 

Holy shit. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anything break Aiko’s composure this badly. I knew her tells pretty well by now, and everything I was seeing suggested that she was about six inches from losing it and lashing out physically.

 

Apparently her mother recognized that, at least to some extent, because she sighed and nodded. “As you wish. You know how to contact me, if you ever want to talk.” She turned and vanished back into the crowd.

 

Aiko spent maybe ten seconds with her eyes closed, taking deep breaths. When she opened them again, her expression had returned to its normal, mobile self. Her voice, though, was still tense as she said, “You guys want to stay here?”

 

“Not particularly,” I said, looking at Alexis. She shook her head. “That kinda killed the mood.”

 

“Just a little,” Aiko said dryly. “Okay. Let’s go, then. I need out of this room.”

 

Nothing more was said as we left the concert hall, passed through the same portal we’d entered by, and walked a short distance along a Faerie trail to a pond by the edge of the woods. Once there, I paused. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” I said awkwardly. I wasn’t really very good at the whole offering comfort thing.

 

“No,” Aiko said. She mostly just sounded tired, now. “Thanks, but there are some things that talking just makes worse.”

 

I glanced into the pond and saw a monster looking back, frozen amber eyes and teeth a little too sharp to pass for human, hollow cheeks hidden behind grey stubble, one hand little more than a mass of scars.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

Previous Chapter                                                                                    Next Chapter

 

I heard the door creak as it swung open at the base of the stairs

 

Small, beady eyes glinted in the darkness, following the motion of the woman through the door. She was slender, almost petite, and looked young. She was not, at least not by the standards of humanity.

 

The door crashed shut again, closing her off from sight. It was a heavy door, a hundred pounds or more, and the sound was commensurately impressive. At such close proximity it was slightly painful. A few moments later there came another crashing sound as the second door closed, followed by a third.

 

I looked up at the sky, and felt the sun on my face. The breeze swirled around my head, bringing with it the scents of the forest. The air was crisp, bearing the promise of an early snow. We had already had our first frost of the year, though it was just now September. A consequence of living in the mountains.

 

The woman’s footsteps made almost no sound on the stairs. I heard them anyway.

 

A sparrow flew past the tower, ignorant or uncaring of the danger it was courting. I watched it pass, tracked its movement as it flew off into the trees. It passed across the sun, but I had little difficulty following its course.

 

The woman kept climbing.

 

When she was thirty feet from the top, I turned to face the trapdoor. That put six hundred feet of empty air at my back, inches away, but I felt no fear at the thought. Heights held no terror for me. Not anymore.

 

The woman threw the trapdoor open with surprising ease, considering her slim build. She was dressed casually, in grey silk marked with the crest of a diving falcon on the back of the shirt. I could see the blade tucked through her belt at the small of her back, however, and I could smell the magic woven through the orb of crystal in her sleeve. Her hair was cut just above her ears, and dyed a vibrant cherry red. She was holding a large envelope, the wax seal on which was broken.

 

“Winter?” she said hesitantly. “You’re kind of creeping me out, here.”

 

“Sorry,” I said, hopping down from the parapet. “You know I’m safe, though.”

 

“Not what I meant,” she said dryly. She gestured slightly at the hawk perched on the parapet.

 

“Oh,” I said. “Right.”

 

I pulled my consciousness back into myself, almost staggering as I lost the rush of sensation from my magic. A moment later I pulled off my blindfold and removed the earplugs. It took a few seconds, one-handed.

 

I blinked back tears as the sunlight hit my eyes. “Is this better?” I asked.

 

“Yeah,” she said, looking around the rooftop. “Bloody hell, Winter. Were you running all four of them?”

 

I looked around. In addition to the hawk, there were two ravens, and a squirrel that was currently stuffing its mouth with seeds from an open bag on the floor. “I don’t run them,” I said. “And I was doing five. There’s a mouse at the base of the stairs.”

 

“Five,” she said. “Damn. That’s a new record.”

 

“I know,” I said. “I just wish I thought it was me improving. I’m pretty sure most of the difference is whatever Loki did to me. It takes some of the fun out of it.”

 

“You can get full detail from two animals at once,” she said. “You can experience what it’s like to have sex as any animal you want, from both directions at once. I am so not feeling your pain.”

 

I snorted. “You know, Aiko,” I said, “I occasionally wonder why people treat us like we’re the most disturbing couple they’ve ever heard of. Then you say things like that.”

 

“It’s an art,” she agreed happily. “You’ve got mail, by the way. In case you didn’t notice.”

 

I grunted and dismissed the various animals. The birds took off, carrying their various foodstuffs with them. The squirrel scampered down the side of the tower, clinging to cracks so tiny I doubted most people would even see them. The mouse went back to ransacking our pantries, where its life expectancy was about as long as it took for Snowflake to get bored.

 

“What’s it say?” I asked, wandering over to the bench. Unlike most of our furniture, it wasn’t a work of art made from exotic hardwood; this particular piece was exposed to the elements, and it would have been ruined if it were made from the wood and fabric so prevalent in this castle.

 

So, naturally, it was a work of art in granite and obsidian instead.

 

“It says you’re screwed,” Aiko said, following me. She handed me the envelope.

 

I dumped the contents out into my lap. One sheet of paper, of a very fine quality, and a sprig of honeysuckle. Both objects reeked of magic, the odor thick and sweet, almost soporific, with a hint of nightshade underneath.

 

I got a sinking feeling when I smelled that. I knew that smell, and it boded nothing good.

 

I unfolded the sheet of paper and read what was written on it. Then I read it again. Then I looked at the sprig of honeysuckle.

 

“I am so screwed,” I said. “How did they deliver this?”

 

“Some Sidhe walked up and handed it to me while I was playing video games,” she said. “Told me it was for you.”

 

I sighed. I really hated how easily the Sidhe had always been able to get past my defenses. They’d at least done so openly this time, I supposed. Not that that made me feel any better.

 

“You read it?” I asked, more form’s sake than anything. I knew she had. She wouldn’t have been so sure that it was bad news, otherwise. Not that it was hard to guess.

 

“Yup. Scáthach wants to chat with you, and she’s being nice about it?” Aiko shook her head. “Screwed. You are, like, epically screwed.”

 

“It might not be that bad,” I said hopefully. “Scáthach isn’t that bad, as Faerie Queens go. And I’m still on her good side, as far as I know. Depending on how you interpret what she said, she might even owe me a favor.”

 

Aiko snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’ve got a bridge to sell you. You know as well as I do that having someone like her owe you a favor is at least as bad as the other way around.”

 

I thought about Loki, and nodded. “Yeah. I know. But I guess I’m probably in too deep to back out now, you know?” I gestured vaguely at my face, and my eyes in particular.

 

She nodded. “Yeah. I know. That’s how it goes, isn’t it?”

 

I nodded. For several seconds, there was no sound but the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees, a long way below us.

 

“How’d you get out?” I asked abruptly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You used to run with the Courts,” I said. “You got away. They haven’t bothered you about it at all, that I can tell.”

 

Aiko was silent for a long moment. “I didn’t get away clean,” she said at last. “The Sidhe have a way of making you pay for every step you take. And I was never as deep into the Courts as you are. You’re dealing with one of the Queens. They aren’t the type to let anyone go, once they get their hooks in you.”

 

I grunted. “Yeah. So. I guess I need to go have a chat with her.”

 

She nodded. “I think we can both imagine what happens if you turn her down.”

 

I could. Oh, I couldn’t guess what the details might be, but the broad strokes? Yeah, I knew what that would look like. When a Faerie Queen sends you a personal invitation to come and chat, you don’t say no. That’s the kind of thing that Greek tragedies are made of.

 

“The invite is for me, specifically,” I said, after a long pause. “Probably best if I don’t bring you guys along.”

 

Aiko nodded again. “Yep. I’ll see you when you get back, hopefully. Try not to get screwed over too badly.” She turned and descended back into the castle without another word, taking the stairs at a speed that would be dangerously reckless for a human. For Aiko, it was business as usual.

 

I stood on the roof for a minute or so longer, watching the sunset. It wasn’t that spectacular, but I’ve always loved watching sunsets. If this was my last chance to do so, a distinct possibility when I was going to meet with Scáthach, I wanted to enjoy it.

 

Then I sighed, and went back inside. I didn’t bother turning the lights on in the staircase. I didn’t need them.

---

 

I would have gladly worn armor to this meeting. I’d gotten used to it, over the years, until I hardly even felt the weight anymore. My armor was made out of an iron alloy, though, and that meant wearing it to an event like this a particularly ugly form of suicide. Invited or not, you don’t bring iron into the personal demesne of a Faerie Queen.

 

I’ve always had a tendency to plan ahead, though, and I’ve gotten a lot better about setting up contingencies. Thus, it should probably not be a great surprise that I’d prepared something to wear in case I couldn’t use the armor, for whatever reason. My social life had been rather sharply curtailed, recently, but there were a handful of places I was still welcome, and wearing a suit of armor on a social visit wasn’t the kind of thing that made you many friends.

 

This particular excursion was more formal than most, and I dressed to match. When I left the castle, I was wearing a silk outfit not unlike the one Aiko had been wearing. My shirt was white, and rather than the diving falcon, it was marked with my own coat of arms, a white wolf’s head on a black shield. The shirt contrasted sharply against black silk pants and a black leather belt studded with bronze. I draped a cloak of shadows over my shoulders and put on some understated jewelry, a mix of gold and bronze, with a few pieces of more exotic materials thrown in.

 

Between the jewelry and the contents of my pockets, I was carrying enough in the way of magical armaments to kill a small army. I had to limit my selections somewhat to avoid any iron derivatives, but it hardly mattered. I’d had years to build my collection. There was plenty to choose from.

 

Before I left, I found Snowflake in the library. She was reading a copy of Kinder- und Hausmärchen. I knew for a fact that she’d read it cover to cover, a few times, but there was something to be said for repetition. Particularly when a lot of the monsters in that book weren’t nearly as fictional as I might have preferred.

 

Hey, I said to her. I’ve got a meeting to go to.

 

The husky didn’t bother turning to look at me, instead flipping the page with a delicate motion of one claw. I know, she said in the back of my head. Aiko told me. Are we still on for the concert tonight?

 

We’d better be, I muttered grimly. We’ve been planning this for three months. If Scáthach gets in the way, I’m going to be peeved.

 

Good. Now get going. You’ve only got a few hours before we’re supposed to leave.

 

I laughed and scratched her ears, then stood and walked out. I thought about stopping to let Alexis know where I was going, but decided against it. My cousin was working on a focus at the moment, and the last thing she needed was a distraction. She didn’t have anything like the practice I’d had making things with magic, and an interruption at the wrong time could easily set her back months in her work.

 

I couldn’t think of any other way to put it off, so I made my way to the ground floor of the castle and crossed the absurdly large entrance hall to the front door. It was made of ash bound with bronze and steel, and large enough to have a smaller door inset into it.

 

It also reeked of magic, a dozen or so flavors of power blending together to form a strong, somewhat harsh medley. The whole building was warded, of course, but the door got special attention. You’d probably have better luck taking a battering ram to the walls than trying to get through that door.

 

I lowered the wards, an exercise of magic so familiar that I hardly even had to think about it anymore, and then raised them again once I’d left. There wasn’t enough room on top of the mountain to fit a courtyard, so the door of the castle opened directly on the staircase that led up the slope.

 

I jogged down the stairs, barely paying attention to where I placed my feet. I knew this path by heart, and I didn’t even have to think about it to know which steps to skip, and which stones I should take care to avoid. The traps out here weren’t nearly as nasty as the ones on and inside the building proper, but I still wouldn’t like to trigger any of them.

 

Down at the bottom of the stairs, I turned around and looked up at the castle. It looked just as ominous as the first time I’d seen it, just over a year prior. The huge, bleak granite edifice loomed over the valley, seeming absurdly large. It looked like a fairytale castle, but not in a good way. It was the kind of castle that you normally picture as seen on a dark and stormy night, with ominous music in the background. It was the kind of castle where dark lords sat and schemed and plotted.

 

I wondered, sometimes, what it said about me, that I kind of liked that aesthetic. That it fit me.

 

I sighed and shook my head, bringing my thoughts back into the present. They seemed more inclined to wander, since whatever Loki had done to me a year ago. Although I supposed that might have just been an effect of my circumstances. I hadn’t been involved in a real catastrophe for nine months. Maybe my mind was getting rusty after so long without a disaster.

 

Whatever the reason, this was definitely not the time for it, not when it looked like the next crisis might be just around the corner. Scáthach asking to talk to me was pretty serious, as omens went.

 

With that in mind, I took a few moments to clear my head, then pulled out the envelope again. I dumped the sprig of honeysuckle in my hand, then crumbled it.

 

As promised, a moment later a portal opened in the air in front of me. It looked like a hole in the world, a circle of almost incomprehensible darkness. It wasn’t black; it was more like there was nothing there to look at. My eyes slid from one side of the hole to the other, refusing to focus on the interior.

 

Scáthach showing off, no doubt. For anyone else, designing an Otherside portal as a stored spell was a whole lot of work for a moderately dangerous result, meaning that you really only used them as last-ditch escape routes. For someone like her, it was a casual display of power.

 

I wasn’t getting any happier about this idea, but there didn’t seem to be any way around it, so I sighed and stepped through the portal.

 

For most people, a portal to the Otherside is not a pleasant experience. The instant of transfer feels drawn out, as though time stretches out and becomes meaningless. It feels nauseating, horrible and distressing in a way that you pretty much can’t describe in English. Once you’re done, you pass out for a couple of minutes, and wake up feeling like you’ve got the worst hangover imaginable.

 

It used to affect me in much the same way. Then Coyote had dragged me into the Void, the primordial chaos that reality had been sculpted from. It turns out that the way I had reacted to portals was just the natural reaction to being exposed, however momentarily, to a glimpse of that Void. It turned out further that, once you’ve seen the real thing, the watered-down version you get when you step between worlds doesn’t really affect you all that strongly anymore.

 

These days, I got an entirely different experience. When I crossed the threshold of the portal, there was a momentary feeling of weightlessness, not unlike the feeling you get when you hit terminal velocity skydiving. My vision went black, the same sort of blackness that I had seen inside the portal, although now the darkness was crossed by streaks of vivid color, in every shade on earth and a few that weren’t.

 

Then I stepped out the other side, blinking. I felt energized, refreshed, as though I’d had a pleasant nap. My left hand itched, which was a step up from its usual dull ache.

 

Before I could really register my new surroundings, someone stepped up and grabbed my left arm. I immediately stepped to the side, calling power and drawing a knife from within my cloak. It was a short, stiletto-style blade made from crystal, oddly beautiful and fragile-looking.

 

A tall, slender figure backed away from me. “Just trying to steady you,” it said. Its voice was high, feminine, and so perfect in tone that it hardly sounded real. It was hard to tell under the wooden armor, but presumably this was a female Sidhe. I didn’t see any weapons, not that that meant much.

 

“Ah,” I said, relaxing slightly. I returned the stiletto to its place. “The sentiment is appreciated, but not necessary.”

 

“So I see,” she said. “May I ask why not?”

 

“You may ask. I highly doubt that you can afford the answer.”

 

She nodded. “Reasonable. The Lady is currently occupied.”

 

“That’s fine,” I said. I looked around for somewhere to sit, but there wasn’t anything appropriate that I could tell. I was standing in a thick forest, rich with the same aromas I had noticed on the letter, with no landmarks in sight. The sky was perfectly clear, a blue as deep and pure as the finest lapis lazuli, filled with ten thousand stars blazing with cold silver light, diamonds scattered across the sky.

 

It was night, of course. It was always night here.

 

“Is there somewhere I might wait for her to be free?” I asked. I didn’t like to admit ignorance that way—admissions of weakness are a terrible idea around the Sidhe—but it was better than blundering around on my own.

 

“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved that I wasn’t going to cause a fuss about it. “Follow me.”

 

The receptionist led me down a narrow path that I would have sworn wasn’t there a moment earlier. The grass twined about my ankles, an unnervingly sinuous movement that did nothing for my peace of mind, but didn’t try to trip me.

 

Maybe thirty feet along the path we reached a clearing. Fallen trees had been arranged around the edges of the space, forming improvised benches. I sat on one and found, as I expected, that it was far more comfortable than its appearance would suggest.

 

To my surprise, the Sidhe sat on another bench, directly across from me. “May I ask what you are called?” she asked.

 

“You may,” I said again. “I am called Winter.”

 

She nodded slightly. “Well met. I am known as Quercus.”

 

“A pleasure,” I said.

 

“May I ask what your purpose is here?”

 

“I think,” I said slowly, “that that is a question which you would have to ask the Lady.” That was true, in that I had no idea what the answer was, but hopefully it would be taken to mean that I knew but didn’t want to share. That kind of word game is important, when you’re dealing with the fae. Telling a direct lie to one of the Sidhe is a bad idea at the best of times, and something told me that doing so now would be considerably worse than that.

 

“Reasonable,” she said again. “It should, I think, only be a short time until she is available to converse with you.”

 

Slippery language, that. What she thought was a short time might be radically different from a human’s interpretation of the phrase. I didn’t think Scáthach was going to screw me like that, though.

 

Quercus said nothing after that, and I didn’t feel any need to fill the silence. I spent the time working magical models in my head instead. I’d been thinking about designing a mirror that could display the visual information I got from an animal, letting other people have some idea what I was looking at. There were a few kinks in the design, and I was still working out how to balance the energy flows properly.

 

About fifteen minutes later, I thought I might have figured out how to rearrange the structures of my mechanism, preventing a potentially disastrous buildup of energy. I’d produced a pencil and a small notebook from my cloak, and I was writing out formulae describing the proposed alterations so that I could figure out whether there was something obviously wrong with it before I got Legion’s interpretation of the changes. The demon was insufferable when I made an amateurish mistake.

 

At that point, Quercus suddenly stood. “She is ready now,” the Sidhe said.

 

I nodded, returned the writing implements to my pockets, and stood. I would rather have had another two minutes to finish what I was doing, but I didn’t bother asking. When the Queen was ready, you didn’t argue.

 

She led me further down the path, and within a minute we reached the base of a large, fairly steep hill. Quercus gestured for me to continue, and I climbed the hill alone.

 

It was taller than it looked. It took me probably ten minutes to climb that hill, and I was breathing hard by the time I reached the top. Hopefully Scáthach wouldn’t be upset by the delay.

 

At the top, the hill leveled out for a few hundred feet. In the center of that expanse was a massive throne carved from a single piece of amethyst. The back flared out like a cobra’s hood, covered in spidery, vaguely runelike designs that glowed with the same pale light as the stars overhead.

 

Scáthach should have looked ridiculous in that throne, dwarfed by the scale of the thing, but she didn’t. On the contrary, she looked quite at home, lounging in the seat. Her posture was strange, subtly off in a way that I couldn’t quite define, making her look more feline than human.

 

She was, of course, beautiful, the kind of intense, overwhelming beauty that drew the eye irresistibly. Her long black hair seemed to move in a gentle breeze that wasn’t there, and her brilliantly green eyes gleamed in the darkness.

 

“Jarl,” she murmured as I approached. “Be welcome in my lands.”

 

I bowed deeply. “Queen,” I said. “I shall endeavor to behave as a guest ought.”

 

She nodded, and smiled. It was…a surprisingly friendly smile, all things considering. “The years have treated you well, it seems.”

 

“I would say the same of you,” I said. “But I can’t envision a world in which it wouldn’t be true.”

 

Scáthach laughed, a high, piercing sound, not unlike wind chimes. “I see your charm has not faded.” The goddess stood abruptly, a motion more akin to a mantis rising to its feet than anything human. “Come, walk with me.”

 

I hesitated, but what was I supposed to do? Say no? Yeah, that would go over real well.

 

So I moved closer and walked around to the other side of the throne with her. I was careful to stay out of reach. It wouldn’t do me any good if she got upset with me, but I thought she might appreciate the gesture.

 

The view was incredible. The hill dropped off sharply just behind the throne, falling a thousand feet before it began to level off. The blanket of trees stretched maybe a mile past that before running into the sea. Starlight glittered off the water, highlighting the peaks of the waves. Other lights gleamed off near the horizon, the only hint that there might be land beyond the edges of this island.

 

“Tell me, jarl,” she said, staring out across the trees. “What did you think of Quercus?”

 

“She doesn’t make much of an impression,” I said. “What’s her position in your personal guard?”

 

“She is the head of it,” Scáthach said, smiling. “How did you know?”

 

“Because you thought she was sufficient as a greeting party,” I said. “Because she wouldn’t get this close to you if she were as naive as she wants to seem. Because she wasn’t carrying a weapon, and the only reason a person guarding the path to their Queen wouldn’t be armed is if they don’t think that they need to be.” I shrugged. “A lot of little details.”

 

“Clever,” she murmured. “I’ve always appreciated that about you.” Scáthach started to pace, the motions uncannily graceful in an odd, almost stilted way. She stared out across the water, her manner almost meditative.

 

“You intrigue me, Wolf,” she said at last. “So clever, so foolish. You consider the consequences of your actions with care, yet the results are never what you anticipated or desired.”

 

I was starting to get a nasty feeling about this. Nastier, I mean. “What do you mean?”

 

“Do you remember the night we met?” she asked, ignoring me. “Do you remember the Hunt, and the duel, and the blood?”

 

I shuddered. “Yeah,” I said. I remembered. I wasn’t lucky enough to forget that. I still had nightmares about that night, on occasion, though it had plenty of competition.

 

“You struck off my counterpart’s right hand, that night,” she said. “You killed her champion. It was fairly done, but that does not change the consequences.”

 

“I would have expected you to be glad about that,” I said. “You wanted me to kill him, as I recall.”

 

“Perhaps,” she said, still pacing. “Perhaps not. Tell me, Wolf, what do you imagine the results of your action have been?”

 

I paused. I’d never really thought about it before. “Removing Pier from the equation changes the balance between the Courts,” I said. “His power wasn’t that serious in comparison to the Daylight Court as a whole, but he filled the role of the Maiden’s champion. He was a symbol.”

 

“Precisely so,” Scáthach said. She had stopped moving, and was regarding me with a thin, predatory smile. Her eyes were fixed on mine. “What result would that bring, then? What are the consequences?”

 

I continued that train of thought, and the sinking feeling in my gut got worse. “Imbalance,” I said. “One Court having an advantage over the other. Doubly so, given that you recovered your spear the same night.” Not that she needed it, but that wasn’t really the point. It was a symbol of her power, much like Pier had been a symbol of her sister’s.

 

When it comes to the fae, a symbol can be more important than the reality.

 

“Yes,” she said. She still hadn’t moved or broken eye contact, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. I wanted to look away from the power I saw there, but I resisted the urge. I couldn’t afford to seem submissive in front of her.

 

“But surely that’s rectified by now,” I protested. “She can replace her champion easily enough. Getting your spear back was a coup, of course, but hasn’t it been balanced by a comparable victory on the part of the Day?”

 

“They have won their battles,” she acknowledged. “But nothing as dramatic as the battles they have lost. In the final balance, the advantage remains with my people.”

 

I gulped. I so did not want to hear that the Midnight Court was winning their eternal war with the Daylight Court. Not that I’d ever noticed that Daylight was much more benevolent, but at least right now they were busy killing each other. I didn’t want to think about what they might get up to without that distraction.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. It was getting harder and harder not to look away from Scáthach.

 

As I might have expected, she ignored the question. “There are many in my Court who say that I should capitalize on this advantage,” she said. “They say that we should attack now, and crush the enemy without mercy.”

 

I gave up and looked down. The moment I did, Scáthach turned and gazed out over the water again. Not a subtle message, but it hardly needed to be. “What do you say?” I asked.

 

“A more challenging question than it appears,” she murmured. “As the Lady of the Isle of Shadow, I would perforce say that the Daylight Court are our sworn enemies. I would say that we have the chance to gain an advantage that our foes could not recover from, and this opportunity is not something that can be ignored.”

 

I thought about that for a moment. Her phrasing was a clue, I knew, a very important indicator. The Sidhe, and especially the high Sidhe, never come at a thing directly. I don’t know why; it’s in their nature. If you want to know what one of the fae is getting at, you have to think about it in a twisty way.

 

I suddenly realized what was going on, and I almost laughed. Man, had Aiko and I gotten the implications of that invitation wrong. “It’s a good thing, then,” I said, “that this is a personal visit. You aren’t speaking in an official capacity, right now.”

 

She inclined her head slightly, still staring out across the waves. “Indeed,” she murmured. “And I, well, my opinion is more complex. This war has raged for millennia, Wolf. Most of my subjects no longer recall why it began. We have found stability.”

 

“And…what? You don’t want to threaten that stability? You’d rather have a war that you know than a victory that you don’t?” I guessed.

 

Scáthach smiled. It was a beautiful expression—I suspected that Scáthach wasn’t capable of any other kind—but an entirely different kind of beauty than she had presented thus far in this meeting. This was the sort of expression that reminded you of all the stories they tell about what Faerie Queens do to their enemies. Some of those stories involved fates so gruesome that even hardened werewolves, who were quite accustomed to eating their enemies without necessarily bothering to kill them first, huddled close to the fire when they told them, and had difficulty sleeping afterwards.

 

I gulped.

 

“On the contrary,” she murmured, in a voice as lovely as a nightshade’s blossom. “One day we will win this war. The Daylight Court shall be ground to dust before us. I shall tear out my sister’s throat, and feast on her heart. Or else she shall do the same to me. There can be no other end to this struggle, but the annihilation of one Court or the other.” She shrugged, the motion fluid and graceful and utterly inhuman. “But there is no hurry.”

 

“But if you have the advantage, why not press it?” I asked. “Granted that timing is the key of any engagement, but hesitation can be as damning as rushing. If this is the time, shouldn’t you move now?”

 

I was taking a risk, pressing her like this, but it was a calculated one. That was the best I could hope for, with Scáthach. Even breathing was a risk around her. She liked boldness, and she wasn’t going to be impressed by timid servility.

 

She glanced at me and nodded slightly, an acknowledgment of a well-made play. “Your words have some wisdom,” she said. “But this is not the time. We have just weathered a storm, Wolf. The uncertainty of recent years has been great, and it is not settled yet. And there is a greater storm on the horizon, an upheaval such as has not been seen in a thousand years. To act now is to risk everything.” She shook her head. “Our victory has waited three thousand years. It can wait a few more.”

 

I nodded slowly. That reference to a coming upheaval was unsettling, to say the least, but it wasn’t like there was much I could do about it. If a Faerie Queen speaks of a storm on the horizon with that kind of fatalism, it goes without saying that people like me can’t hope to do much more than take shelter and hope to still be around when it blows over.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. It was the telling question, of course. People like Scáthach don’t do anything without a reason, and they don’t give anything away for free. That goes double for information.

 

“As I said,” she murmured. “There are elements in my Court which have been outspoken in favor of a more aggressive stance. I would like for you to dissuade them from this position.”

 

“No.”

 

She turned to regard me again, her head cocked just a little further sideways than a human neck could comfortably bend. Between that and the way her green eyes caught the starlight, it emphasized the feline cast to her features. “Oh? Are you certain?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I would reward you well,” she assured me.

 

“I’m sure you would,” I said. “The answer is still no. This is out of my league. Whatever you’re offering, it wouldn’t be worth it in the long run.”

 

“Are you not afraid of risking my displeasure?” she asked. Her voice was light, almost carefree.

 

“Not really,” I said. “I’ve done favors for you in the past, and you aren’t going to respond by screwing me over. That would be imbalanced, and balance is in your nature.” I shrugged. “Besides which, I’ve done favors for you in the past. There’s every chance that I’ll do favors for you in the future, for something less cataclysmic than this particular request. You aren’t the type to throw away a tool that might still be useful.”

 

She nodded slowly. “Well, jarl, I appreciate your forthrightness. Quercus can conduct you back to your home.”

 

I blinked. “Just like that?”

 

“Indeed,” she said, with an eerie smile. “Your assessment of me was, in its own way, accurate. I would hardly press you on a topic you clearly feel strongly about, when I may be able to make use of you in the future in any case.” She went back to looking out over the water, dismissing me utterly.

 

I was scared, and I couldn’t help but think that this was too easy. But I also wasn’t about to argue.

 

I left.

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