The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  I drank some coffee while paging through the room service menu. It looked good, but I decided I’d rather not sit in my room alone all morning. Besides, networking was important, at least according to Lucia and Diane. I grabbed my phone and my room key, stuffed the Campbell Security keychain into my pocket to make me feel more confident, and headed downstairs. As I went, I texted Judy and got back NO CHANGE. I tried to let it make me hopeful.

  I hadn’t been in the hotel restaurant before now. It was decorated to complement the bar, all warm colors and rich, ruddy woods. A buffet had been set up along one wall, and custodians were helping themselves to eggs and bacon and pancakes. I got a plate and accepted a fresh waffle from a woman dressed in white whose only job appeared to be making waffles on command. At least someone in this hotel was more bored than I was.

  Carrying my waffle and a glass of orange juice, I surveyed the room. I didn’t see anyone I knew as more than a passing acquaintance, and sitting with strangers made me uncomfortable. I found an empty table near the others and took a seat. Nice job networking. Well, it wasn’t as if I wore a sign saying DON’T BOTHER ME, PEASANTS.

  Across the room, Claude entered. He saw me and a smile brightened his features. “Ah, Helena,” he said. “May I join you?”

  “Of course.”

  Claude filled his plate with a fluffy slice of quiche and brought an entire pot of coffee with him to the table. “I am addicted,” he said with another smile. “I am never myself unless I have at least four cups in the morning. And this hotel makes excellent coffee.”

  “I was thinking that about the coffeemaker in my room. Delicious.”

  “Yes, and I would be tempted to take it home with me had I not an even better one at the Athenaeum.” Claude filled his cup and took a long drink, strong and black without adulteration. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Truly it is the nectar of the gods. May I pour you a cup?”

  “Please.”

  We ate and enjoyed our coffee in silence for a few minutes. Around us, the soft murmurs of conversation and the clinking of silverware against china made a peaceful background noise. “So you have no store to go to,” Claude finally said. “What will you do this morning?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked out the window, where a brisk wind was stirring up snowflakes. “It’s the kind of day where you want to stay in and watch a movie, but I feel I should be, I don’t know, making more friends.”

  “There will be movies shown in one of the conference rooms. And of course there is always good company to be had in the bar.”

  “I guess I’m not the only one at a loss, huh?”

  “I had intended to visit OMSI and then Powell’s, with a stop at the local Athenaeum access point. So I think, me, it will be movies today instead.”

  “Ms. Davies?”

  One of the navy-suited Board employees stood beside our table. “Yes?”

  “The Board would like to speak with you.”

  A chill went through me. They didn’t know about Malcolm, did they? No, they wouldn’t have sent a flunky if they did. “What about?”

  “I’m not privy to their intentions. They did say you were to come immediately.”

  I exchanged glances with Claude. “There was no summons for me?” he said.

  “No, sir. Just Ms. Davies.”

  “I’ll see you later, Claude,” I said, standing and putting my napkin on my plate. My hands were shaking and I shoved them into my jeans pockets to still them, wrapping my fingers around the smooth warm surface of my phone and the angular bumpiness of the keychain. Someone had seen Malcolm, regardless of his caution, and the Board was going to fire me. Or have me executed. I had no idea what the punishment for favoritism on this scale might be. Don’t be an idiot. This is probably about Greenough’s proposal. Stay calm and don’t overreact.

  I followed the flunky through the lobby and up the stairs to the Annapurna room. He held the door for me politely—that was a good sign, right? But no, he’d said he didn’t know anything, and this was likely just him showing respect for a named Neutrality’s custodian. I smiled and thanked him, then passed through the door.

  Five Board members sat at the conference table. They were all dressed in business suits and looked exactly like corporate hatchet men come together to fire someone with extreme prejudice. I recognized four of them, Stirlaugson, Ragsdale, Harrison, and Chukwu, and that relieved my mind somewhat, because Ragsdale and Chukwu were at least moderately inclined to like me. Stirlaugson, on the other hand, looked like someone who’d been woken too early and then missed her morning coffee. That boded ill for me.

  “Ms. Davies, have a seat,” Stirlaugson said, waving her hand at the far end of the table. I sat. There was a metal pitcher and several glasses near the center of the table, too far away from me to reach them, which was unfortunate because my throat was suddenly dry and itchy. I didn’t think any of them would be inclined to fetch me a drink.

  “Do you know why we’ve called you here?” Stirlaugson said.

  “No, Ms. Stirlaugson.” Don’t convict yourself.

  “You’re here to answer a charge of partiality.”

  My heart pounded faster. “Partiality?”

  “Specifically, that you are inclined toward a Nicollien frame of mind.”

  It was so unexpected I just gaped at her. Nicollien? “I’m not partial toward Nicolliens,” I said. “Why would you think that?”

  “You were heard expressing the opinion that familiars should not be destroyed, and that they are valuable in fighting the Long War. We also know you have close friends among the Nicolliens. How do you answer this charge?”

  “I have close friends among both factions, and I don’t favor one over the other.” I gripped my hands together under the table to keep their trembling from being obvious. “And I don’t think it’s favoritism to point out the obvious. Familiars do help in the fight, or no one would use them.”

  “At a time like this, no custodian should be defending familiars,” said the stranger, a red-headed woman with hair cropped close to her head. She had a pen in her hand, but no paper in front of her, and she clicked the pen in and out, in and out, in a staccato non-rhythm that had me wishing I could grab it from her and snap it in half.

  “Why not?”

  All five of them murmured as if I’d said something wrong. The redhead looked across the table at Ragsdale. Ragsdale shrugged, the tiniest movement, and looked at me. I watched his face, hoping for a clue, but saw nothing but mild interest. None of them looked as if my fate mattered to them at all.

  “You don’t see it? Familiars are a direct threat to us,” said Stirlaugson. “We’re all trapped here thanks to them roaming free. We tolerated familiars so long as they were under control, but under these circumstances, we claim the right to ask that they be eliminated.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Stirlaugson, but that’s an Ambrosite point of view.”

  That made them sit up and stare at me. Harrison said, “You think to challenge us?”

  “It’s not a challenge. I’m just pointing out that that’s the way Ambrosites think. And I doubt anyone would call Ms. Stirlaugson partisan. You don’t have to want one side to succeed over the other to recognize wisdom in their position. I don’t think the Nicolliens are right any more than the Ambrosites are, but I know what a blow it would be to their hunting teams to lose their familiars. And I think simply destroying all familiars outright is a hasty response.”

  “Pittman’s done it, in the UK,” Harrison said. “He made a wise decision.”

  “I don’t have any idea what the situation is in the UK, and I wouldn’t dare second-guess Mr. Pittman. But much as I dislike William Rasmussen, I think he understands our situation better than any of us, and I’m sure he’ll make a wise decision too.”

  “You dislike Rasmussen?” Ragsdale said. He sounded surprised.

  “Um, I didn’t think that was a secret. He wanted—maybe still wants—me out of Abernathy’s so his daughter Judy can run it. We’re not frie
nds. But if I’m truly impartial, and I am, I have to recognize his skills as a leader.”

  “I…was unaware of this,” Ragsdale said. “Laverne, I think our reports were incomplete.”

  “I agree.” Stirlaugson leaned forward. “And what of your friendship with a Nicollien? You rushed out of here to visit him when he was attacked.”

  I wondered how they knew that. “Ms. Stirlaugson, I’m not inclined to do favors for my friends, because I respect my responsibility to Abernathy’s,” I said. “I don’t believe making connections, even close connections, to members of either faction means I’m automatically partisan.” It was the closest I could come to telling them about Malcolm. I felt alone, and scared, and my words sounded thin and weak.

  The room fell silent. The Board members exchanged looks that made me feel they were all secretly psychic and carrying on unheard conversations about me and my unsuitability to be custodian. Finally, Stirlaugson said, “I am satisfied that Ms. Davies has upheld her oath to maintain Abernathy’s without fear or favor. How say you?”

  A murmur of assents went up around the table. I sagged a little in my seat. “Ms. Davies, as long as you’re here, we might as well conduct your review,” Ms. Stirlaugson said.

  “My…review?”

  “Every three years we review a custodian’s charge, discuss concerns you might have, verify that you’re performing adequately. Yours was to be this afternoon. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Uh…no, I guess not.”

  “The rest of you can stay if you like,” Ragsdale said. Harrison and the redhead stood and left, Harrison shooting me a narrow-eyed look as he did. I was pretty sure he was on Greenough’s side, so I just gazed coolly back at him. I didn’t need any more enemies, but I couldn’t help making that one.

  When the door shut, Ragsdale said, “You’ve had an exciting year. Murder, invaders, an attempt to destroy the oracle…what do you have to say about all that?”

  “I don’t know. I never have figured out why Mr. Briggs hired me, whether he knew he’d be murdered or not. But I’ve done my best to preserve the store, and I think those things would all have happened whether I was custodian or not.”

  “Possibly,” murmured Stirlaugson. “The last major incident Abernathy’s endured was in 1971, when Patricia Kelley thwarted some rather stupid thieves who tried to steal their own auguries. Of course it doesn’t work that way, but they were quite clever in circumventing Abernathy’s alarm system. That was when Campbell Security took over. Dougal Campbell and his son Alastair broke new ground—but that’s not relevant. My point is that nothing this exciting has happened to Abernathy’s since it moved to the United States, and perhaps we should be asking why that is.”

  “You think it does have something to do with me?”

  “The man responsible for attacking the oracle through illusions might have thought the oracle weakened by having a custodian unfamiliar with the ways of the magical world,” Chukwu said. “Not something you can be blamed for, in my opinion.”

  “We should have stepped in immediately and installed a new custodian,” Stirlaugson said.

  “But would your custodian have been able to take on the oracle’s body and fight off the invading monster?” I said. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I think most people wouldn’t have thought to do it. And Abernathy’s would be destroyed now.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Neither do you.” Fear made me bold.

  “It’s irrelevant,” Ragsdale said. “What matters is Ms. Davies did attempt the impossible, and I’m satisfied she’s earned her place as Abernathy’s custodian.”

  “I’m not suggesting she be removed,” Stirlaugson said, not very believably to my eyes.

  “We ought to be asking the standard questions,” Ragsdale said, “if that’s all right with you, Laverne?”

  Stirlaugson nodded and waved her hand dismissively. Ragsdale said, “You’ve had no other problems with those detectives over the stolen books?”

  “None. Though I think Detective Acosta wants me to do something illegal so he can get me on some charge or other.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll protect you. How’s your accounting? Your books are up to date?”

  “The Board accountants audited me when they did Abernathy’s taxes last winter. We’re ready for the coming tax season.”

  “Do you have any concerns you’d like to bring up with the Board at this time?”

  I had so many concerns I was bursting with them, but none of them were what he had in mind. “No.”

  “Does anyone have something they’d like to ask Ms. Davies?”

  Chukwu shook his head. Stirlaugson looked like she wanted to challenge me but couldn’t think how.

  Ragsdale nodded. “Then we’ll approve your annual raise and bonus. Don’t let this discourage you, Ms. Davies, but I don’t think any of us expected you to succeed, given the challenges you faced and the fact that you came to this as an outsider. I’m personally very impressed by how well you’ve handled yourself.” Ragsdale stood and came toward me with his hand outstretched. Stunned, I shook it.

  Chukwu also offered me his hand. “I wish we were not confined here, because I wish to see Abernathy’s before I return home. Perhaps there will still be time.”

  “I hope so. I’d love to show it to you.”

  “You’ll present your case for Abernathy’s remaining here to the Board tomorrow morning,” Stirlaugson said. Reluctantly, she held out her hand, and I shook it quickly and withdrew. “We’ll announce our decision at the business meeting Friday night, after the banquet.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Stirlaugson. I appreciate the opportunity to speak.” I didn’t add I’m sure the Board will make the right decision because it felt like sucking up to them, just nodded and made my escape.

  I found the mezzanine restrooms and hid in a stall, staring at the blank wood of the door and feeling grateful for the quiet anonymity of the restroom. That had been close. And unexpected. I had absolutely no doubt Greenough was behind this attack, and it was just good luck I was well defended against it. Imagine if they knew about Malcolm. I wondered how many more of the Board members thought well of me, and whether that good feeling would persist in the face of a real challenge to their authority.

  I let out a deep breath and left the stall. I would wash my hands, and find out where they were showing movies, and try not to think too hard about everything I had to worry me. Only a few more days, and it would all be over, one way or another, Malcolm had said. I hoped that didn’t include blowing up most of Portland.

  11

  I picked up the plastic bottle of water in front of me and turned it around, reading the label. It was expensive, as everything associated with this conference seemed to be, and I couldn’t help thinking it was a waste of money. They’d given us those really nice metal water bottles, but every presentation I’d attended had had these disposable bottles set out for the presenters. And now I had one of my own.

  The Rainier room was more dimly lit than the other conference rooms, probably why they’d shown movies in it earlier. The sconces lighting the room were of orange glass, mottled to look like translucent marble, though I’d never seen marble that color before. It made the gray Berber carpet look brownish and gave everyone with skin lighter than Nimisha Rai’s an orange tan. All the chairs were occupied, and more men and women stood against the walls. It was the fullest I’d seen any room at the conference to date.

  I took a drink from my own heavy water bottle and surreptitiously looked at my fellow panelists. I’d met a couple of them at the bar the first evening, but didn’t remember their names. We each had little placards with our names on them, but of course they faced the audience and were no help to me. I was near the middle of the table, with three panelists to the left of me and two to the right. I accidentally caught the eye of the man immediately to my right and had to smile in a friendly way, though my insides were knotted up with nervousness.

  “First
time?” he said. He spoke English with an Indian accent I liked. I nodded. “It’s not so hard,” he continued. “Answer the moderator’s questions and speak out when someone says something you disagree with.”

  “That sounds like it could start a fight.”

  He laughed. “It can. But sometimes that’s more interesting than when everyone agrees. You’re the custodian of Abernathy’s, right? Where do you stand on the issue?”

  “I’m opposed to it.”

  “Well, I’m in favor, so we should have a good strong discussion.” The man extended his hand to me. “Vijay Chowdhury of the Devarakonda Node.”

  I took it hesitantly. Chowdhury laughed and clasped my hand tightly. “Just because we disagree doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” he said. “I’ve just seen tremendous benefits—oh, it looks like we’re starting.”

  I took another drink of water to calm my nervousness. Chowdhury seemed nice enough, but he represented the possibility of Nicollien and Ambrosite never making common cause. That made him my enemy, for the next fifty-five minutes anyway.

  Chukwu took a seat at the end of the table farthest from me. “Welcome,” he said. “This panel will address the issue of dividing use of the Neutralities, to restrict Ambrosites and Nicolliens from visiting at the same time. I’d like to invite our panelists to introduce themselves, starting at that end.”

  The woman beyond Chowdhury said, “Maggie Tennyson of the Gilbert Node in Manchester, UK.”

  “Vijay Chowdhury of the Devarakonda Node outside Kolkata, India,” Chowdhury said.

  I cleared my throat and leaned into my microphone. “Helena Davies, custodian of Abernathy’s.” A murmur went up through the room. I had no idea why. My presence here on the panel wasn’t a secret.

  The woman on my immediate left said, “Ana Ruiz, Hernandes Node in Mexico.”

  “Jeff Stockwell, Barrington Node outside Chicago, United States of America.”