The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  Carlos laid his hand on my head. “I would like to be alone now.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. Carlos—”

  He hugged me tightly. “Go. Embrace life. She would prefer you not remember her in sorrow.”

  The stranger—he must have been the bone magus tending Elisabeta, but I felt awkward introducing myself—opened the door for me, and I walked blindly down the hall, ending up at the elevator. I stared at the call buttons, not sure where I wanted to go: up, or down? Eventually I decided I didn’t want to be alone and pushed the down arrow.

  The elevator, when it arrived, held a handful of custodians, and we rode in silence to the mezzanine. Tired in spirit, aching in body, I went looking for someone I knew.

  I found Claude sitting alone in Kilimanjaro, watching hotel staff set it up for that evening’s dinner and business meeting. “How can they go on after witnessing what happened last night?” I said.

  Claude patted the chair next to him in invitation. “They were not here last night, and know only that a pack of wild dogs entered the hotel and did a great deal of damage.”

  “Weren’t people on the staff killed, as well?”

  “Yes, but not many. With so many custodians in one place, the familiars attacked non-Wardens rarely, and the hotel’s night staff is few. Did you leave before mundane law enforcement arrived?”

  “I was told they were here, but I didn’t see anything.”

  Claude made a displeased face. “I should not regret having my magic restored so promptly, but as its restoration left me in a position to speak to the police on behalf of the Board, I cannot view it with undiluted pleasure.”

  “Why didn’t Ms. Stirlaugson speak for them?”

  “The Board maintained its solitude throughout the night. We have heard nothing from them directly, only their messengers. I am concerned, me, that something else is awry, but every inquiry returns answers amounting to ‘all is well.’”

  “That seems really strange. I was hoping to find out if I still have to argue my case in front of them today.”

  “It is likely. They have been behaving as if nothing happened, which irks me, since twenty-five of my fellows have lost their lives.”

  “I was so sad to hear about Elisabeta Vaduva.”

  A look of terrible pain crossed Claude’s face. “She is dead? Such a tragedy. Iakkhos will need to be told.” He made no move to rise.

  “Is Iakkhos okay? I heard the heart attack almost killed him.”

  “It did, and he is weak, but he will survive. I think it unlikely that he will see another conference.”

  “I’m sorry. I like him a lot.”

  “He and I have been friends for many years. The Labyrinth will be so different without him.”

  “Does he have a successor? I don’t know how custodianship passes for anything except my own Neutrality.”

  “He does, and the successor has a successor. It is a satisfying feeling to know one’s work will go on uninterrupted.”

  I thought about Judy, and said, “I can see that.”

  “Ms. Davies?” A woman in a navy suit approached us. “The Board will see you now.”

  “About moving Abernathy’s?”

  “They don’t tell us the details. Will you follow me, please?”

  My eyes met Claude’s. “Bonne chance, Helena,” he said. I nodded in return.

  The woman led me to the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. I’d been expecting to meet the Board in Annapurna, so that threw me a bit. Nervously I followed the woman off the elevator and down the hall, past my own room almost to the far end of the hall. The woman pulled out a key card and opened the last door on the left, then bowed me through exactly as if I were a queen. This made me even more nervous. I bobbed my head to her and entered the room. She didn’t follow.

  It was a suite similar to mine, though done in rose and silver rather than blue and gold. Instead of one dinette table, there were two pushed together to make a single long table surrounded by ten chairs. The sofa and armchairs had been moved to make room for the longer table, and the members of the Board sat or stood around them, like they were at an uncomfortable cocktail party where drinks hadn’t been provided. They stopped their quiet conversations when I entered and focused intently on me. That didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all. Of course not. I suppressed the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and waited for one of them to speak.

  “Ms. Davies. Thank you for coming,” Stirlaugson said. Her suit today was pale rose that matched the décor, though I didn’t believe she’d done it on purpose. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s be seated.”

  I let them all take chairs before I sat down, in case there was some ranking I needed to obey, but ultimately I sat where I’d guessed I should, at the bottom of the table facing Stirlaugson. Silence fell when we were all seated. I looked at the smooth, shining surface of the table and noted I could see the reflections of the Board members nearest me. One was the redhead whose name I still didn’t know; the woman on the other side was Chao Min, looking as groomed and polished as the table.

  “Ms. Davies,” Stirlaugson said, drawing my attention, “the Board has received a proposal that Abernathy’s be moved to London. You are invited to make a statement on this subject.”

  “Oh,” I said, and caught a glimpse of the redheaded woman smiling in a superior sort of way. It irritated me enough to help me regain my composure. “Members of the Board, as Abernathy’s custodian I say moving the oracle anywhere will be dangerous and unnecessary. When the store was moved the first time, it was in response to Hitler’s rise to power and the premonition of the London Blitz. The move was hazardous both in terms of disrupting the oracle and in how exposed it was to attack by invaders, as it could not be warded during the move. The proposal to move it now has no compelling reason behind it, and I disagree that the supposed benefits of the move would outweigh the extreme danger the oracle would suffer.”

  Silence. Chukwu said, “Is that all?”

  “Should there be more, Mr. Chukwu?”

  “Ms. Greenough was quite eloquent on the subject,” Harrison said. “She had a PowerPoint presentation.”

  “I don’t believe that’s necessary,” I said, though my heart sank. Diagrams and pictures hadn’t even occurred to me. “I have history on my side. Silas Abernathy was quite specific as to what moving the oracle entailed.”

  “Abernathy,” Harrison spat. “That traitor?”

  “Whatever his later actions, I don’t think anyone can disagree that he saw the oracle through its greatest challenge, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Until last spring,” Stirlaugson said. “When you prevented its destruction at the hand of a rogue magus.”

  The way she said the last two words sounded almost sarcastic, and it threw me. “Um…okay, yes, I guess you could say that had equal potential for destruction.”

  “So you believe that entitles you to make decisions for it, and not this Board?”

  “Ms. Stirlaugson, I thought the point of this meeting was for me to give the Board adequate information so it could make the decision. Yes, I have an opinion, and yes, I believe it’s an important one. But as far as I know, I don’t have the power to make decisions about Abernathy’s future. That’s down to you all. I just want you to make the best one.”

  “And if that decision is to risk the danger, and move the store?” said Ragsdale.

  “Then I’ll get my passport in order and see what kind of a deal I can get on packing crates.” I hoped that wasn’t too flippant, but I was getting angry and was straining to keep it from coming through.

  “And if the Board decides the custodianship should go to someone else?” Harrison said.

  I fixed him with my steeliest gaze, though my heart quailed. “That’s up to you as well. But I hope my actions have proved to all of you that I’m a worthy custodian.”

  Silence descended again. “Any other questions?” Stirlaugson said.

  “Why is moving the oracle dangerous?”
asked the redhead.

  “The books have to stay close together for the oracle to…have a home, I guess would be the best analogy,” I said. “If they’re too far separated, the oracle dies. And in travel, it’s not always possible to guarantee that kind of closeness for cargo. Particularly when you’re dealing with mundane officials. Then there’s the risk of invader attack—”

  “We all understand that,” the redhead said, a look of distaste crossing her face. “And yet it was successfully moved.”

  “The danger of remaining in Charing Cross Road was much greater than the risk to the oracle. Wanting to move the store because it will be more convenient isn’t even in the same class.”

  The redhead’s eyes narrowed in thought, but she nodded and said nothing more.

  “Then you acknowledge there would be a benefit to moving the store,” Harrison said.

  “I don’t know the details, but I’m told it would be a more central location for magery and would be better for holding this conference. Those are benefits. I just disagree that they’re essential enough to justify a move.”

  “I think the Board knows better than you whether that’s true,” Harrison said in a snotty kind of way. I was grateful he was a good ways up the table from me. My anger was simmering high enough I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t have smacked him.

  “Like I said, I don’t know the details. I’m sure the Board does understand that aspect of the situation.”

  “And you’re prepared to uproot yourself and move to London?” Ragsdale said. His tone was neutral, almost casual, as if none of this mattered at all.

  “I am, Mr. Ragsdale. I’ll miss my family, but I swore to serve Abernathy’s without fear or favor, and I think that’s part of what it means.”

  “It sounds like you’re clinging to the store,” said a white-bearded man I didn’t know who spoke with a French accent. “You ought to be thinking about what’s best for it.”

  “Meaning what the Board decides?” I snapped, and had to pause briefly to regain my composure. “I’m sorry. I’m new to all this, you know that. But it seems to me that a Neutrality has two masters—there’s the Board, who sees what’s necessary for the Neutralities as a whole, and then there’s the custodian, who knows her charge intimately. I’m willing to admit there are things you all understand that I don’t. But I think you should be as willing to admit that I know things about Abernathy’s you are never going to understand. And it’s my duty as custodian to make sure you know those details so you can make the best decisions for everyone.”

  I leaned forward, fixing Stirlaugson with my gaze. “I’ve told you why moving the store is dangerous and pointless. Ms. Greenough has given you her arguments. Now it’s on you to decide. You have all the power here, ladies and gentlemen. Please. Make the right decision.”

  The silence that fell when I finished speaking felt like heavy snowfall, muffling every sound and chilling me to the bone. Finally, Stirlaugson said, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Davies. You may go.”

  I pushed back my chair slowly, willing my shaking legs to support me, and said, “What about last night?”

  Stirlaugson eyed me coolly. “Last night?”

  This would probably kill my chances entirely, but I remembered Elisabeta’s shrunken body and it filled me with rage. “Twenty-six people died last night while you hid in your suite and abandoned us. Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”

  “Of course it matters. But our presence would have changed nothing.”

  “Even so—what was so damned important you couldn’t—”

  “That’s enough.” Stirlaugson stood. “I make allowances for how overwrought your experience last night made you. The Board regrets not being present to lend its authority to the situation. But you understand nothing of the decisions we must make on behalf of all magery. And I will not explain myself to you. Now, leave us, and save your righteous indignation for some other event.”

  I clasped my trembling hands together behind me. “Thank you for hearing me out.”

  I managed to make it all the way through the door and down the hall to my suite before I had to stop and lean against the wall. My shaking hands needed three tries to work the key card. I staggered into the sitting room and collapsed on the nearest chair. I had no idea what the Board would make of my little speech. I might have just mortally offended them. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. I’d done what I could, and now I just had to wait for the announcement at the business meeting after dinner. And figure out how hard it was to get a passport.

  Someone knocked on my door. I staggered upright and went to open it. A young man dressed in the hotel uniform stood there, holding a small box. “Ms. Davies?” he said. I nodded. He opened the box. Inside was a new phone and a little envelope. The folded paper inside the envelope read Judy said you broke your old phone. This should be an adequate replacement. Malcolm never signed his notes to me; his handwriting was distinctive enough it was unnecessary. I took the phone and thanked the young man. It was identical to my old phone, and it was but the work of a moment to swap out the SIM card. I felt so competent.

  The first thing I did was call Judy, who picked up so rapidly I guessed she’d been waiting for my call. “They solved the problem,” she said.

  “What problem?”

  “The failing bindings. It was a matter of aging. Like how people today live long enough to die of cancer?”

  “Judy, you’re babbling.”

  “Sorry. It wasn’t until this generation that familiars were bound for longer than twenty-five years. I don’t understand the details, and I don’t care, but basically the magic they used to alter a familiar to accept a harness failed after thirty or forty years of use. They’re replacing all the bindings and it’s never going to happen again.”

  “That’s small comfort to the twenty-six custodians who died last night.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have started with that, it’s just that it means the crisis is over. I hoped you’d be happy about that.”

  “I am. But I can’t believe Mr. Rasmussen isn’t just going to order them all destroyed. They’re dangerous, Judy.”

  “You’re the one who kept talking about what a boon they were to the Nicollien fighting teams!”

  “I know. Now I’m not so sure they’re a good idea.”

  “Father’s been meeting with Parish a lot the last couple of days. I think—” Her voice lowered. “I think they’re talking about ways to phase familiars out.”

  “Really? But that would be—”

  “A huge change, yes. Don’t tell anyone I said that, all right? I’m not totally certain that’s what they’re doing.”

  I started to tell her about the possibility of Abernathy’s moving, but changed my mind almost immediately. We’d know the truth in just a few hours, and I superstitiously felt talking about it beforehand would make the decision come down against us. So instead, I said, “Did you tell Malcolm I needed a phone?”

  “I might have left him a short message to that effect. Did he get you one with a nice heavy-duty case? You’re way too hard on your phone for anything else.”

  I chose to ignore that. “Thanks, Judy. Are the travel restrictions still in place?”

  “Didn’t they tell you? Most of the loose familiars were involved in the attack on the Grandison, and the teams are finishing up the rest of them this morning. I was going to go in to the store, finish up a few last things before Christmas, but I hear Abernathy’s will be open tomorrow from ten to two just like all week.”

  “That’s a great Christmas present, closing up early on Christmas Eve.”

  “Yeah. I got you something.” Her voice was gruff the way it always got when she was embarrassed.

  “Good, because I got you something too.” Something currently hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk back at the store. I hoped it would still have meaning after tonight.

  16

  There were fewer tables at dinner that night, and the sight made my eye
s mist over briefly. So many custodians…I wasn’t sure if I mourned more for the ones whose deaths had been concealed by the paper magi, or for the few the magi had allowed the police to see. Those bodies would go to a police morgue, or something, and maybe be autopsied, when there wasn’t anything a forensic pathologist could learn about them. It just felt wrong, taking them away from us when we needed to mourn them.

  The memorial service had been short but heartfelt, with pictures of the dead flanked by candles I was sure were against the fire code. The little act of defiance warmed me. It was like challenging death, daring it to overcome us. Men and women spoke about friends, Carlos read a tribute by Elisabeta’s husband, and we cried and laughed, even I who didn’t know any of these people as more than acquaintances. It had left me with a dull ache inside, but one that felt as if it would pass. I hoped that wasn’t disrespectful of the dead.

  There was no assigned seating for the banquet that night, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting among strangers when my fate was so undecided. I saw Lucia seated across the room, talking to a man I’d met briefly after one of the presentations, and hurried toward her. “Can I sit by you?”

  Lucia regarded me closely. “Sure,” she said. “Did you make your pitch to the Board?”

  “What pitch?” the man said. “Clive Akins, remember me?”

  “I remember you, Mr. Akins. Yes, I made my pitch. The Board—”

  “That’s supposed to be private information, Davies,” Lucia said. “Sorry, Akins, but you’ll have to learn about it with the rest of us.”

  “You already seem to know about it,” Akins said with a smile.

  “I’m nosier than you. Sit down already, Davies.”

  I quickly took my seat. I’d dressed up for this occasion, reasoning if I looked good, the Board might be swayed. It was stupid reasoning, but it was all I had. I smoothed hair that was already smoothly pinned up, straightening a wayward strand, and resisted tugging my bra strap into place. I looked good in my rose silk dress and matching cashmere sweater, a nice compromise between fashionable and comfortable. Too bad Malcolm couldn’t see me all dressed up.