Battle Ground

by Jim Butcher

  And it turned out that by unanimous vote, everyone in the Accords agreed on that, because everyone in politics enjoys giving other people’s money to good causes.

  Whatever. I got people some help, did a little good.

  But I wasn’t finished.

  “There is also the matter,” I said, to Mab, “of personal debt. Ethniu was my kill, before all the Accorded nations, in defense of the demesne of Baron John Marcone of Chicago.” I turned to face him. “Acknowledgment of that act is due.”

  Eyes turned toward Marcone.

  “The Eye seems ample reward for such a deed,” Marcone noted.

  “To some,” Sarissa said, her voice very dry.

  “Do you have it?” I asked Marcone innocently.

  He stood there, suddenly very wary.

  “I mean, I’m not sure where it is,” I said, which was technically true—Alfred had it stashed somewhere and I’d told him not to tell me where, specifically for this conversation. Technical truth was, at the moment, the best kind of truth. “But if you want to hand it to me . . .”

  “I assumed you claimed it from Ethniu,” Marcone said.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said.

  “Are we to believe that you just left a weapon like the Eye lying upon the ground?” Marcone asked.

  “Dude, there was an apocalypse on,” I said, in a very reasonable tone. “The earth shaking. Giant waves. I almost drowned, you know, in this giant stupid concrete teacup some fool made. It’s all kind of blurry.”

  Marcone narrowed his eyes.

  “The point is, my people fought and died for your land,” I said, my voice suddenly harder. “I fought and bled for your land. And if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have a territory to defend. I defended your home. And I lost my own home doing it.”

  I pointed at Evanna.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “There was . . . damage to that apartment during the attack,” she politely lied. “No replacement apartment is available at this time. As such, he may no longer be our guest.”

  “See?” I said. “A debt is owed. And we take our debts pretty serious in Winter.”

  I felt Mab’s gaze over my shoulder, like a cold draft in the room.

  Only it was focused on Marcone.

  Marcone eyed me and then Mab, and then Lara. “Surely you don’t believe him.”

  A little smile played on the corners of Lara’s mouth. “The last I saw,” she said, “you were the one running off with the Eye, Baron.”

  “Queen Mab,” Marcone said in protest.

  “He has given me no reason to disbelieve him, Baron,” Mab said. She knew all about technically true things, too.

  Marcone turned to me with his eyes narrowed. He regarded me and said, “I know you have it.”

  Marcone had put me on a pedestal by telling people I’d taken out Ethniu. That act alone had probably scared enough members of the White Council to get me voted out. But if he was going to put me up there, he shouldn’t be too terribly surprised if I kicked him in the face.

  I took a breath, enjoying the moment.

  “Prove it,” I said. “Sir Baron.”

  Marcone eyed me. Then glanced past me to the Queen of Air and Darkness.

  Mab’s eyebrow went up so far that it threatened the line of her skull. Then she said, as if to Marcone, “Much is explained.”

  Marcone’s gaze slid around the faces of the Ministry, weighing what he saw there. He yielded with reluctant grace. “Very well, Sir Dresden.” Marcone sighed. “What is it you wish of me?”

  I leaned down to look him in the face.

  “I want my lab back,” I said. “Move your stuff.”

  * * *

  * * *

  I’ll give this to Marcone: When he gives his word, he’s good for it.

  He emptied out the little castle built on the site of my old boardinghouse within twenty-four hours. Soldiers, personnel, furniture, lights—by the time we arrived the next day, all of it was gone. The castle was empty of Marcone’s presence, right down to the stones.

  “What do you think?” I asked. I turned on a heel, regarding the main hall. There was still a big hole in the roof where Ethniu and the Eye had provided incentive to install a skylight. I pointed at it. “Maybe get one like Doctor Strange’s window, right?”

  Molly looked around the place speculatively. “It looks . . . cold and slightly damp and gloomy. Like one big basement.”

  “Glorious,” I said. “Your dad is coming over later to help me figure out how to make it a little more human-friendly. I mean, you could fit a basketball court in here. And I don’t need a throne room.”

  “And you do need a basketball court?”

  “It’s an idea—that’s all I’m saying.”

  She shook her head. “Have you noticed all the enchantments on the place?” Molly asked skeptically. “There is some really old stuff here that is still working.”

  In point of fact, I had Bob going over the entire thing now for an in-depth assessment. The defensive systems built into the castle had been laid up by a wizard with a particularly thorough breed of the crazies. My first read was that Marcone’s use of them had only touched the surface of their potential—maybe Thorned Namshiel hadn’t yet had time to teach him to make full use of them. Hell, the only reason I felt like I knew what I was talking about was that the enchantments hardwired into the stones of the castle bore a startling structural resemblance to those that had been used to create Demonreach. It was entirely possible that the castle’s magical defenses had been the work of the original Merlin or one of his inheritors.

  It would take time to be sure, but if I was right, by the time I was done with the place, I’d have a redoubt damned near as hard to crack as the island, and a heck of a lot more convenient to live in.

  “Yeah. Kind of like having a smart house, I guess,” I said. “There’re all sorts of features I’m going to have to work through and figure out.”

  Molly gave me a rather wan smile. “Sounds fun.”

  “Maybe a little,” I said. “Gotta make sure Marcone didn’t leave me any magical surprises behind.”

  “Do you think he would?”

  “Not really,” I said. “But home’s a real good thing to be thorough about.” I looked around. “He was supposed to be bringing the keys by. He’s late.” I caught a look on Molly’s face and scowled. “Wait. Did you come down here with me to distract me?”

  “Not distract, precisely,” Molly hedged. “But . . . perhaps it’s better if you don’t butt heads with Marcone just now, Harry.”

  “Indeed,” came Mab’s cool, calm voice.

  The Queen of Air and Darkness entered the great hall through the same doors Ethniu had ducked beneath a few days before and surveyed the bare, clean walls through the shafts of sunlight falling through the hole in the roof. She wore the same business wear she had in the Ministry meeting. “Something of a fixer-upper, isn’t it, my Knight?”

  I scowled at her. “Did you collect the keys from Marcone on my behalf?”

  “No,” Mab said.

  “Because you thought I’d pick a fight with him?”

  “Of course not,” Mab said.

  “You don’t trust me,” I said.

  Mab gave me a bland look. “Do not be ridiculous. I trust you as much as anyone.” She glanced over her shoulder to a second figure entering the shadowed hall.

  “Lara,” I said calmly.

  The power behind the throne of the White Court entered the room with a faintly cautious air, examining the bare walls curiously. One, two, three dangerous women here with me, and a definite sense of conspiracy-for-my-own-good in the air. It was appropriate to start feeling a little wary, I thought.

  “At Mab’s suggestion, I took it upon myself to run the keys down to you,” Lara said. “I pointed out to
the good Baron how it made everything happen in front of witnesses, very official and aboveboard, and avoided any possible moments of . . . negative emotional interaction between the two of you.”

  I grunted and said, “Between the two of us, eh?”

  “Oh, Marcone is furious with you, in his own way,” Lara said. “I’d say you won the round.”

  Which did not make me feel a little surge of petty satisfaction. At all. Ahem.

  “But you’ve got the keys?” I asked her.

  She held them up. She was wearing white gloves to go with the business suit.

  “And you guys arranged everything so us boys don’t get all emotional and start punching each other to impress the girls,” I said.

  “Or start making out with each other,” Lara volleyed back. “The two of you were looking very warrior-bro chummy, I thought.”

  “Ew,” I said, and held out my hands. “How do I know you didn’t make a copy of them for yourself?”

  “Mab was with me,” Lara said. She crossed the room to drop the keys in my hand without touching me. “And as if you weren’t going to change all the locks first thing, anyway.”

  I bounced the keys, two copies of a single master key, in my hand, then slipped them into my pocket. “I wouldn’t have punched him in the nose. I would have been nice. As long as he was.”

  “Of course,” Lara said, nodding firmly. “You’re both very mature.”

  I sniffed haughtily.

  Both of us were kidding around, rather than moving right into what was coming next. Neither one of us liked thinking about the fact that not only had we lost Thomas; we’d failed him, too.

  “Did your people find anything else?” I asked.

  Lara’s expression sobered. “The ship was found sunk in two feet of water off a beach in Indiana. Recovery operations underway.”

  I exhaled and nodded my thanks to her. “So, Justine made it to shore.”

  Lara nodded. “But where she went after that, we don’t know. My people are looking, but it’s a very large world.”

  “Finding people is what I do,” I said. “If you hold down your end, I’ll start from mine. Between us, we’ll catch her.”

  “If we do,” Lara said, “do you really think you can cast out . . .” Her voice lowered. She never said the word Nemesis.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But we owe it to Thomas to try to save her. And the child.”

  Lara’s eyes became grim, and she gave me a small, firm nod and offered me her hand. “Shake on it, wizard?”

  I nodded and traded grips with her. “Agreed.”

  And a flickering something went between us. It wasn’t White Court mojo, I didn’t think. Just . . . a shivering note of energy. A harmony.

  It was a promise both of us had put a measure of will behind. It was a promise both of us meant to keep.

  We both had the same feelings about family.

  “Excellent,” said Mab from behind us. “Lady Lara, upon due consideration, your third favor is granted. You have my permission to court my Knight. The wedding will commence at sundown.”

  “Uh,” I said, “what?”

  Lara arched an eyebrow. “What?”

  “WHAT!!??” sputtered Molly.

  I blinked at her. Then at Mab. Then at Lara. And then Lara and I both more or less simultaneously jerked our hands out of the grip they’d been in.

  “The third favor requested of Winter,” Mab clarified. “Lady Lara desired a binding alliance with Winter. This seems wise to us. It will be done.”

  “Not that part,” I stammered. “The part with a wedding.”

  “The fusion of bloodlines is how these things are generally arranged,” Mab said in a deadly reasonable tone. “And you passed responsibility for such decisions to me when you swore your oaths, my Knight.”

  “Hey, didn’t nobody say anything about weddings,” I protested.

  Mab stared at me for half of a frozen second before saying, “You knew.”

  Yeah, well. There wasn’t any weaseling out of that one. When Mab had staked her claim, she had done so in . . . an unmistakably intimate and thorough fashion. Mab had laid claim to my life. And I’d agreed to it. Also unmistakably.

  I looked away from Mab, because she was probably in the right. I’d made a deal and sworn my oaths. Mab, as my liege, had not only the right, but the obligation to marry me off if it meant a more stable and secure Winter.

  But that didn’t matter.

  Because I’d had a long damned week.

  And Murph was gone.

  And the Winter mantle didn’t do a thing for that kind of pain.

  “You know what you can do with your wedding?” I asked Mab pleasantly, and even though I knew I was about to offer her open defiance in front of witnesses, and that there was only one way she could react to such a thing, I felt the words coming up.

  Mab’s gaze turned icy and settled on me.

  And some part of me said, What the hell? and started looking for the most childishly insulting thing I could possibly say to her.

  But before I could come up with something really good, open my mouth, and doom myself, Molly and Lara had both come between us.

  “This is inappropriate to force upon him at this time,” Molly said in a cool, rational tone to Mab, as she put a hand on my shoulder. Her fingers closed in an icy vise, hard enough to make my arm go numb. It wasn’t quite as effective as slamming a gag over my mouth would have been, but it was close. “In the immediate wake of the battle and his personal losses,” Molly argued, “there is nothing to be gained by putting further strain upon him.”

  “Your terms are acceptable,” Lara said immediately upon Molly’s heels. “But the customs of both my people and his own call for a more graceful and appropriate period of time before a formal union is commenced—as well as for a mourning period after the passing of one of the honored dead. To ignore either of these requirements would be for you and me to openly disrespect each other. It would send mixed messages to our vassals upon the very foundation of our alliance.”

  Mab looked coldly furious, but her gaze flickered aside to Molly and to Lara for maybe a tenth of a second. She stared at me and then arched an eyebrow, daring me to defy her. “Do you concur with this assessment, my Knight?”

  The part of me that missed Murphy and was sick of hurting wanted to scream, Go pound sand, you frigid witch. I am not your Ken doll.

  Molly’s hand clenched me hard enough to make things in my shoulder crackle.

  Maybe she and Lara hadn’t shown up only in an effort to keep me from losing it on Marcone. Maybe they’d come in an effort to protect me from something a lot more dangerous.

  I couldn’t stop from glaring defiance at Queen Mab.

  But the part of me that wanted to survive rasped, “Yeah. What they said.”

  Mab stared daggers at me for a solid thirty seconds of frozen silence. Then she said, “In the interests of building a solid foundation, Lady Lara, and in making best use of our Knight, Lady Molly, I will grant him the period of a year of mourning,” she said.

  “Do you know what you can do with your year of mourn—” I began to say.

  “Agreed,” Molly said hurriedly over me, and gave me a look that said, Dammit, Harry.

  Mab gave Molly a narrow-eyed glance. Then she lifted a finger and added, “With the proviso that they make regular public appearances together. War does not wait for the mending of broken hearts. We must project the image of improved solidarity at once.”

  Mab looked from Molly to Lara and back.

  Molly looked like she was biting back a whole lot of what she had to say. But she inclined her head slightly and nodded.

  Lara grimaced. She gave Molly a look that contained something like an apology. But she nodded as well.

  “Excellent,” Mab said, her tone frozen. “See t
o the details, Lady Molly. Yourself.”

  Lara winced.

  Molly looked as if Mab had just punched her in the belly.

  But she nodded.

  Mab shook her head and said, “The world we have been building is at risk. Now is not the time for defiance. From any of you. Do not make me regret my investments.”

  Something very like fear touched Lara’s face for a moment. She didn’t look up to challenging Mab. I knew how she felt.

  “I would speak privately with my Knight,” Mab continued. “Lady Molly. Lady Lara. Thank you for your time.”

  Mab didn’t exactly dismiss them, not directly. But her tone made it perfectly clear that they had been dismissed, nonetheless.

  Lara turned to go. Molly hesitated for a second, her expression uncomfortable.

  The way I understood it, Molly didn’t exactly have an option when Mab gave her a direct order. Power always comes at a price.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  My ex-apprentice gave me a faint smile. Then she traded a guarded look with Mab, inclined her head to the Queen of Winter, and walked with Lara out of my secondhand castle. There was some definite coolness between Lara and Molly: Actual frost formed on the floor at the Winter Lady’s feet.

  And that left me alone with Mab.

  Mab raised a hand as I began to speak and said, her voice tired and uninflected, “Yes. You defy me. Obviously. You always do. In the interests of efficiency, let us assume you have uttered some mystifying reference to mortal popular nonsense, I have glared at you and reminded you of the power I hold over you, you have confirmed that you continue to understand the circumstances that require me to tolerate your insouciance, and we have both agreed to continue this ridiculous dance in the future, presumably for the remainder of time.”

  Which made me blink.

  Mab didn’t usually get into meta-discussions about the nature of our relationship.

  She took a step past me and looked around the bare walls of the great hall. “The Baron has garnered the lion’s share of respect among his elders by surviving a storm this violent at all, much less proving to have prepared for it, seizing the initiative, and fighting for his territory successfully. Yet you have claimed a choice prize of him, and he has had the grace to yield it to you. And there are many who suspect you have claimed the Eye by right of victory as well—a circumstance far more favorable to you than if they actually knew whether you had it or not.” She pursed her lips. “You begin to understand how to armor yourself with your enemies’ doubts. Your reputation grows more formidable.”