He sighed. “Not all dwarves are my subjects, pity though it is, Mr. Grey. Whomever Gerda recruited to help her was her business. If she involved Vize, she sealed her own doom.”
“I want Vize,” I said.
Donor’s gaze shifted toward Brokke. “So do I. I understand he is wanted for high crimes in several countries. As a head of state, his freedom concerns me. I don’t know where he is. I no longer understand his motives.”
“Do a sending. He’ll come,” I said.
Brokke shifted in his seat. “He can make sendings but not receive them.”
“Then call him on the damned phone. Look, I didn’t come here to chat. I want Vize. I don’t care if he’s useful to you. Find someone else to do your dirty work. His usefulness to you has run out.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Donor said.
I leaned over the desk. The attempt at intimidation had no effect that I noticed, but it made me feel better. “Then let me warn you. I will hound him until he is in custody. Anything he does will be done with me breathing down his neck. I will disrupt every plan I can. I will expose every manipulation. I will undermine you at every turn, Donor.”
He murmured a chuckle. “In other words, Mr. Grey, you will do what you have always done.”
“I don’t work for the Guild anymore,” I said.
He smiled. “Officially.”
“At all,” I said. “Maeve is no friend of mine.”
“I have been at this sport much longer than you, Mr. Grey. Denials from the enemy mean nothing. Affirmations mean less.”
“What you and Maeve have going on is not my concern. That was another life for me. I’m not interested in you anymore. What I care about now are four dead bodies, including Gerda, in my town that lead back to you. I won’t shed any tears for her, but I’m not going to let Vize run loose.”
He arched an impatient eyebrow. “Perhaps you should find out who killed Gerda, then. I’m sure it wasn’t Vize.”
“Asking Vize a few questions might help. Where is he?”
“He’s gone rogue,” Brokke said.
“You’ve lost control of him?” I asked.
Donor glared at Brokke, and I sensed the flutter of a sending. The dwarf flinched but set his jaw. “It matters not.”
“I don’t believe you. I saw him in TirNaNog. He has an army of followers. That’s got to matter to you,” I said.
“Those people support my cause, not his. If Vize turns against me, they will not follow,” Donor said.
“Really? Like what’s happened with Eorla Elvendottir?” I asked.
His cheekbones tinged red in anger. “Eorla and I will resolve our differences. She will have no choice. It is no concern of yours.”
“It is if you don’t resolve it. Because if you don’t, then I doubt you can control Vize’s followers either,” I said.
The color faded from his face as he resumed control of his emotions. “Enough of this discussion, Mr. Grey. I will not help you find Vize, but I will not hinder you. Now, it is your turn to answer my questions. Why does Maeve fear you?”
“I seem to have a knack for disrupting her plans without intending to. I annoy her, but I don’t think she fears me,” I said.
“The Wheel of the World turns, and we follow, Mr. Grey. We influence It as much as It influences us. If you obstruct Maeve’s influence, then she has reason to fear you. Your absence in the world might clear her path,” he said.
“Maeve doesn’t turn the Wheel of the World. The Wheel turns, no matter what she wants,” I said.
“Among the common people, that is true, but those with real power do, in fact, move the Wheel. We cannot stop It, but we can change Its course for a time. If Vize had succeeded in TirNaNog, the world would be different right now. The dead fairy queen changed the outcome of that encounter,” he said.
“Her name was Ceridwen, and you’re right. She did change things—for the better. If she hadn’t warned Maeve, Boston would have been destroyed, and Tara would be yours now,” I said.
“You closed the gate to TirNaNog, not she. That kind of power is what Maeve fears. The ability to take power away is as powerful as power itself. I am beginning to wonder if I should fear you, too.”
“Give me Vize, and you have nothing to fear from me,” I said.
He rose from the desk and resumed the Aldred Core glamour. “That, I think, is a promise you cannot make, never mind keep. I wish you well, Mr. Grey, but, more, I wish never to meet you again.”
As Donor strode from the room, Brokke glared at me. “You fool. You just signed your death warrant.”
32
After his portentous announcement, Brokke clammed up, fearing the room was bugged. I expected no less from the Teutonic Consortium. The Guildhouse was riddled with listening devices. It didn’t bother me so much when I thought they were the good guys. Using a sending, Brokke asked me to wait for him in Copley Square. Not long after I settled myself on a bench near the park, he appeared on the sidewalk along Boylston Street and entered the Boston Public Library. I will be in the upper stairwell, he sent.
Since the riots, any number of agencies had people keeping an eye on me. As a high-level advisor, Brokke no doubt had his own spies to contend with. I waited a few minutes, checking if he was followed or I was being watched. The square and surrounding sidewalks were crowded with tourists, businesspeople, and shoppers. Any one of them—several of them—could be working for the Guild or the Consortium.
I crossed to the main entrance of the library and entered the cool quiet of the old building. I climbed the marble steps without hurrying in case someone was, in fact, watching. In the portrait gallery of the third floor, Brokke lingered near the entrance to the special collections rooms. The top floor of the old library received few visitors unless a new exhibit was on display.
“No one is up here,” Brokke said. “If you sense someone coming up the stairs, I’m going down the elevator. You can still sense body signatures, correct?”
“I can,” I said.
He moved into the gallery space. “You should not have gone to Donor. He will kill you now at the opportune time.”
“I’m no threat to him,” I said.
“Not in any way you understand, but you will become one. He needs Vize to finish what Gerda Alfheim failed to accomplish,” he said.
“Is this faith stone the real deal? Can it really be that powerful?”
Brokke checked over the railing before responding. “It is perhaps the greatest stone ward ever created. Kingdoms were founded with it. Battles were fought over it. It made small men great and great men tremble. It grants the ability to sway men to one’s cause with utter fealty.”
“So, how does some dumb-ass like Veinseeker end up with one of the most important artifacts from Faerie?” I asked.
Brokke stared at the murals, a series of portraits showing the progression of religious history from paganism to Christianity. The pagans came off like the bad guys. “You are here-born, Grey. You have no idea what Convergence was like. We didn’t go to bed one night and wake up the next day in a new world. We were thrown here amidst war and confusion. Our memories were damaged. We didn’t know who we were. Most of us still don’t. Things got lost.”
After a hundred years, Convergence was still reverberating through the world. Whatever had happened between the Celtic and Teutonic fey that caused the merge was still being fought. Old wars died hard. “Veinseeker claims he doesn’t have it,” I said.
True surprise came over Brokke’s face. “You’ve met him?”
“Yep. He’s kind of a jerk,” I said.
Brokke worried his hand through his hair. “Then a confrontation is inevitable. The Wheel of the World turns as It will.”
I leaned against the railing and crossed my arms. “Really? Because I met the guy? I’m getting a little sick of the cryptic comments, Brokke. You’re playing me for something. I don’t like being played.”
“Meeting Veinseeker pulls you more into Donor’s we
b. You’re already connected to Vize and Alfheim. Maeve is watching you. The closer you get to the stone, the closer you come to death at Donor’s hand,” he said.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“But you don’t walk away either. If enough people walk away, the inevitable struggle doesn’t happen,” he said.
“Is that what your vision tells you?
He wandered the gallery, looking at the wall murals. “I made a mistake a long time ago, Grey, and I do not want to repeat it. When Convergence happened, I had a vision of the end of everything we know. When I shared my vision, I lost control of it, and now I do not know where it ends,” he said.
“You told Vize the vision?”
“Not I, but he knows it and has tried his entire life to fulfill it for the Elven King, but you changed all that.”
I crossed my arms. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Knowing a thing changes a thing. My vision has driven Bergin Vize to madness. It could do the same to you,” he said.
“That’s not good enough, Brokke. I want answers. You warned me that Eorla might die in the riots, and I made sure that didn’t happen. She’s alive, Brokke. You owe me. Vize knows whatever you’re talking about. I can’t stop him if I don’t know what it is.”
Brokke pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He shook his head and muttered, as if arguing with himself. With a sigh, he looked at me. “The spear was in my vision, Grey. You awakened the spear, and it bonded with you. It bonded with Vize as well.
“And Ceridwen underQueen,” I said.
“Aye, and her. Something changed after my vision, something dark and unseen. I saw one person wielding the spear, not three. I thought it was Donor. Because of what happened to the spear, Vize thinks the vision was about him, not the king. Now he wants the stone because that was part of the vision, too. He thinks he can return us to Faerie. The only person strong enough to prevent him from keeping the stone is Donor. If you interfere, Donor will lose the stone.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” I said.
“Only if the stone doesn’t end up in the wrong hands,” he said.
“Sounds to me that any hands are the wrong hands,” I said.
Brokke snorted. “ ’Struth.”
“It’s been hidden all this time. Maybe it should stay that way,” I said.
“If only that could be, Grey. These things are tied to the Wheel. They do not stay hidden. The spear, the stone, and the sword have all pushed into the path of the Wheel.”
“What sword?” I asked.
Brokke sighed. “The one in your boot. I knew it for what it was the moment I saw it. So did Eorla.”
Briallen had given me a dagger. When I found myself in dire circumstances, it changed size and shape and became a sword. I didn’t understand the mechanism of it; but when Brokke spoke, I realized it responded during times of great essence being expended. “I didn’t ask for that either. It was a gift.”
Brokke gave a sharp nod. “And a perilous one. I don’t know if you are drawn to these objects of power or if they are drawn to you. For you, everything hinges on what you do with these things. You can keep on this reckless course, or you can discard them.”
“I can’t walk away when people are dying, Brokke. There has to be another way,” I said.
He sighed. “I already gave you another way. Stay away from Vize. These are all signs from my vision, Grey. Faerie was just the beginning. The sword and the stone and the spear are here. It will take only one more thing to destroy everything if you choose wrongly.”
33
Before the conversation was even over, I knew I wasn’t about to walk away even though Brokke did. Voices floating up the stairwell spooked him, and he was in the elevator with the doors closed before I had a chance to turn around. Whatever his visions, I didn’t believe everything Brokke said. Like it or not, he worked for the Elven King. A lifetime of experience cautioned me against anything he said.
That didn’t mean I ignored him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that the spear was connected to the Wheel of the World. I had seen that in action. My sword was another matter. Enchanted swords littered the landscape in old Faerie. Mine had saved my ass at pretty opportune times, but not in any way that shocked me. Gerda Alfheim’s interest in the stone—to say nothing of her death because of it—was as red a flag as could be when it came to the stone, though. Whatever Brokke’s motives for warning me away, Veinseeker didn’t seem to have that option.
Brokke might have tried to convince me not to get involved, but his words had the opposite effect. Vize was after Veinseeker. I was after Vize. To track my quarry, I had to track his. Ceridwen had verified enough of what I told her to kick him out. She had made a mistake in expecting Maeve to have her back when she needed it. She wasn’t about to make the same one with an exiled dwarf who wasn’t invested in her cause. A few well-placed questions throughout the day helped me follow Veinseeker out of the Tangle.
I wanted to pity Nar as I tailed him. He moved like a man defeated and a man on the run. The open air of main streets meant danger, and he avoided them at every turn. Time after time, he slipped into a disheveled building, home to squatters or illicit dealers, and was turned away. Individuality ruled the Weird, but community made it function. Nar had proven more than once that he couldn’t be relied on, and no one was willing to take a chance by letting him in.
In the long run, he ended up where so many other fey did in troubled times. With so many bars and clubs destroyed during the riots, Yggy’s had seen an uptick in business in recent weeks. The inclusive environment drew Nar at last. Heydan threw no one out as long as they followed the rules.
People packed the place, brought out by the delicious gossip of a dead elven terrorist. Those with a story about Gerda Alfheim found themselves the center of attention and recipient of free drinks. Once he assessed the atmosphere, no one gained more attention than Nar Veinseeker.
He held court in a booth near the pool table, regaling listeners with a tale of how he had duped Gerda Alfheim a century ago. “She didn’t know what she had,” he said. “Miss High-and-Mighty was dirt poor when I found her in Munich, trying to pass herself off as royalty to any human willing to spot her a dinner or a drink.”
“What precisely-like did she offer for two drinks?” someone asked.
Nar winked. “Now there’s another tale for another time. She was a scavenger, back then, she was. She was able to find the whiff of Faerie in the Black Forest like a pig after truffles. Back then, the fey sold the least pebble for a song, amused that the humans would trade gold for shit. She tried to sell me a lot of cold stone when I noticed a nice piece in her room. I pretended to feel sorry for her, offered to take it off her hands for thrice her price, and she took my coin. I sold it for a ransom price if there ever was one.”
“Aye, and lost your clan in the bargain, the way I heard it,” someone called out.
Nar leaned out of the booth, a sour look on his face. “Then you heard lies, friend. I left the clan because it wouldn’t know a barter from a scam. Where are they now? Hiding in holes, their quarries silent.”
I eased my way among the listeners until I was in Nar’s line of sight. When I caught his eye, I nodded toward the back. Nar lifted his glass. “She hounded me for years, vowing revenge when she learned what she lost. But I sit here, while she lies elsewhere. May she burn in darkness.”
He downed the drink and slid from the booth. “A moment, good kin, while I make room for the water of life.”
People laughed and slapped him on the back as he worked his way to the bathroom. With the entertainment paused, they drifted away, searching for other tales or drink refills. Unsteady on his feet, Nar reappeared from the men’s room. He paused on the threshold, scanning the room. When he saw me, he smiled as if recalling why he had left the booth in the first place.
He propped himself on a stool next to me. “I hear you have your own tale of the witch to tell.”
“You need to be more careful. Gerda wasn’t working alone,” I said.
He waved a clumsy hand. “She’s gone and good riddance. I haven’t breathed so easy in decades.”
“Do you have any idea how many unfriendly eyes are on you right now? Alfheim was working for the Elven King, Nar. You’re no safer with her gone,” I said.
He pressed his finger into my chest. “She was in it for herself, friend. Her cronies have vanished in the night like shadows. I’ve checked. They’re gone. They know nothing.”
“About the faith stone?” I asked.
That pulled him up short. “What’s that?”
“The faith stone, Nar. You see? She talked. The Elven King heard. Where do you think all that money was coming from to hunt you down?” I asked.
He rocked on the stool. “What are you looking for? A payoff? You’ll get nothing from me, Grey. The stone is beyond their reach. They’ll all get nothing because I have nothing.”
“You know where it is. That’s what they want to know,” I said.
He chuckled. “Even if they knew, they couldn’t get it. Maybe I’ll sell that, too. They’ll pay for nothing when they have their answer.”
“You have to trust me, Nar. Bergin Vize is hunting you,” I said.
“Trust you? You got me kicked out by the Dead. I wouldn’t trust you with the time of day,” he said.
“This isn’t about me, Nar. Vize is different. You’ve been making such a loud ass of yourself in here, he’s probably waiting outside right now.”
“Let him wait. He learned his trade at Gerda’s knee. I eluded the bitch for a century. I have no fear of one of her whelps.”
“Think, Nar. You’re practically asking for him to kill you,” I said.
Nar barked. “You know the rules. He can’t touch me here. I learned a thing or two from Heydan in my time. Heydan showed me how to keep scum out.” He leaned in close, his breath thick with whiskey. “I got a hidey-hole so close it would knock your boots off. Goes right to my bed when I need it.”
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