by Eileen Wilks
Those subtle eyebrows lifted subtly. “You know of Queens’ Law?”
“Some. There’s one that says no one is allowed to invoke a certain Name.” Lily ripped off another bite of bread, but didn’t eat it. She looked squarely at the halfling. “Do people in your realm know about Rethna? What he did, what he tried to do, and what happened to him?”
“Stop.” Alycithin turned to the elf standing behind her, who’d watched Lily closely the entire time. The one with the gun. She said something short and musical to him, then to the other elf. They didn’t like it. They argued—at least Lily assumed that’s what they did, because although they sounded terribly polite, Alycithin responded in a voice cold enough that their balls should’ve shriveled on the spot.
The two elves bowed and left. Not the apartment—they went into another room. A bedroom, Lily thought, though she only caught a glimpse before the door closed on them.
Alycithin turned back to Lily. “They do not speak your language, but they understand some of it. I would protect them from hearing that which can be dangerous to know. Why do you bring up Lord Rethna?”
“Because you haven’t landed in the middle of a war between Robert Friar and the lupi. The war is between the lupi and the one we don’t name. Ever. She is who Rethna invoked, and she is who Robert Friar serves. You may not be invoking her name yourself, but if you’re helping Friar, you’ve signed up on the wrong side.”
Silence stretched out between them. Alycithin didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Lily’s heart pounded. She was gambling big-time now. Alycithin might not give a tinker’s damn who Rethna had served. She might be on the same side as Friar, already recruited into the Great Bitch’s service. She might simply not believe Lily.
“And why,” the halfling said at last, “should I believe you?”
“Why did you send your people out of the room? Why did you leave Sean out of our little tête-à-tête? Why have you allowed me to steer the conversation so far? Something’s already bugging you. Something’s not right. That’s why you wanted this chat.”
“It is customary to dine with one’s captives or see that they have other company for meals. The code calls for captives to be treated civilly. This includes providing opportunities for pleasant conversation.”
She sounded abstracted, however, as if she were speaking automatically while her mind was busy with some other subject. Lily decided to take a step back. T.J., her mentor in homicide, used to say that once a fish takes the bait, you let him run out the line. Grandmother put it another way: it’s best if your enemy persuades himself to do what you want. “You were right about the bread,” Lily said politely. “It’s delicious.”
“We were pleased to find a good bakery, as none of us possess that skill. Tell me, Lily Yu…but we never did settle on what I am to call you, did we?” Her smile was a work of art, warm and lovely. “We use few titles, and I am not familiar with the nuances of those you use. What title do you prefer?”
“Special Agent is correct. But why don’t you call me Lily?”
“Lily. A pretty name. It sounds similar to our word for a certain type of happiness. Your English does not have an equivalent. It is the happiness one feels at a pleasant surprise.”
“Given your remarkable command of English, you probably know that here in America lily means a type of flower. But I was named for my grandmother, who is Chinese.”
“I do not have any Chinese, I’m afraid. Is it permitted to ask what it means in that tongue?”
“Oddly enough, it has no precise meaning. This is uncommon with Chinese names.” Should she ask what Alycithin’s name meant? Cullen said names were a big deal to elves, but what kind of big deal?
“Languages are interesting, are they not? My language has many more names for some things than English does. For example, we have sixteen words that would translate, if rather poorly, as enemy.”
“Does that mean you see sixteen types of enemies?”
“It does.” Alycithin took a moment to select a slice of fresh pineapple. “We have only seven words for friend. It is…what is your phrase? Ah, yes. It is a sad commentary on us that we have so many more words for enemy than for friend, yet we find these distinctions useful. Of course, three of our words for enemy also denote a friend, so the imbalance is not so great as it seems.”
“We call that sort friendly enemies.”
“Yes, that is one type—enemies for whom one feels some cordiality. There are also enemies who seem to be friends, aren’t there? Hidden enemies. And those with whom one would be friends if not for other circumstances. Such as, for example, having given one’s word.”
“Circumstances can be a bitch.”
Amusement gleamed in those bright green eyes. “Bitch is a rude word in your culture, I believe. Yes, sometimes one regrets that someone who is so’elriath—ah, that is an enemy for whom one feels no hostility, one who is simply on the other side—cannot become a friend, perhaps of the fifth degree. But once one’s word is given, it must be adhered to.”
“Of course. But what was that other word? The one for someone who would be a friend, under other circumstances.”
“So’amellree. That is the word in the feminine. My language is somewhat like your Latinate tongues, but it is not the adjectives we change to suit the gender of the noun. When appropriate, we make the nouns themselves either masculine or feminine to suit their referent. So’amellree,” she said, looking Lily directly in the eye, “refers to a woman who would have been a friend, perhaps of the fifth degree, had circumstances been different.”
“So-amel-ree,” Lily repeated. And smiled. Bait taken. Alycithin might be going the long way around, but she was swimming in the right direction. “Do you have a word that means the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE conversation with Ruben took longer than Rule expected. Ruben had persuaded the president to order the secretary of commerce to visit the sidhe delegation at their hotel under some diplomatic pretext or another. In an hour or two the secretary would arrive and be amazed to discover that some of the delegates were missing. When Rule got off that call, he started to touch Tony’s number when his phone vibrated.
It was Tony. One of his wolves had found the scent, but at a location north and slightly west of the hotel. Did Rule want to check it out?
He did, once he learned where it was. He called Special Agent Bergman and asked her to meet him there. Rule got there first and congratulated young Ed, who was extremely proud of himself and wiggled all over in delight, his tail wagging madly. Ed’s escort—a tall, morose city cop—watched with disbelief. “If that’s not the damnedest thing,” he said. “Damnedest thing I ever did see. I could swear he understood everything I said to him.”
“He’s not a dog, officer. Most of the time he’s a man.”
“Still.” The cop shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever did see.”
Bergman had one of her people drop her off. She’d had a long night, and it showed in the dark circles under her eyes, but those eyes were bright with anticipation. She knew what this meant as well as Rule did.
Ed had found the scent at a bank.
Follow the money. Lily had said that often enough, and this was something Rule knew. Something he understood. Something the Bureau understood, too. They had excellent forensic accountants.
“I’ll do the talking,” Bergman told him.
“Of course.”
“Yeah, that’s why you called me. You want my badge.”
“Of course,” he said again, this time with the hint of a smile.
She almost smiled back. “Let’s go—and pray one of those tellers remembers something or someone who was a little odd.”
“We won’t be relying on memory alone,” Rule said, pushing open the door and holding it for her. “We’ll want the bank’s records of every transaction at this branch in the past two days, whether through a teller or at the ATM. The scent is probably from yesterday, but it mig
ht be as much as two days old. We’ll need names, addresses, everything the bank has.”
She snorted. “You’ve got funny ideas about banks if you think they’ll hand all that over just because we say pretty please.”
“Ruben is getting you a warrant.” Rule glanced at his watch. “It should arrive in about thirty minutes.”
She stopped and frowned. “What does he do, wiggle his nose and poof, I’ve got a warrant?”
“That wouldn’t take thirty minutes. He’s having someone deliver it here.”
“Huh. I’m starting to like working with Unit Twelve.” They’d paused just inside the doors. Bergman reached into her purse and took out a leather folder much like the one Lily used for her ID. “Even if it’s just two days’ worth of names, it’s going to be a long list. These elves could look like anyone, young or old, male or female, right?”
“Right.” Rule slanted her a smile. “We’ll be able to trim the list by eliminating those who’ve had accounts here for several years, but it will still require a lot of resources to check out whoever is left. Which is why I like working with your Bureau. You have resources.”
That time she did smile—the quick, hard grin of a hunter with a fresh trail to follow.
“I think I like you, Special Agent.”
She snorted and strode over to the nearest desk. “I need to talk to the manager.” She slapped her ID down. “Now.”
They’d follow the money, see where it went…maybe to the third floor of a stucco building on the east side of the city.
THIRTY-NINE
“SO this Benessarai is the one who wants the prototype.” Lily had long since finished eating, and she’d sipped all the tea she could stand. She pushed the cup and saucer away.
“She said so, didn’t she?” Drummond snapped. “This is no way to question a witness. Make her get to the point.”
Drummond had pulled himself into his talkative shape a few minutes ago and was pacing like a man whose patience was used up.
She’s not ready yet, Lily told him. Don’t distract me.
She and Alycithin were getting along like gangbusters…if gangbusters meant being terribly polite and careful with each word. They had cautiously exchanged some information. Alycithin had been embarrassed when Lily told her that Cullen had not refused to sell the prototype—that he had never even received an offer. Benessarai had lied to her about that. For some reason he wanted to obtain it the hard way, using theft and hostages and a complicated plot. Lily thought Alycithin knew very well why he’d taken that route, but she’d waved Lily’s question away with a vague comment about it making him look more skilled. But Alycithin had not known about the confrontation at the middle school, so she couldn’t tell Lily what had happened there.
Lily still didn’t understand what the halfling woman wanted from her. Or what she was offering in return. “Benessarai is responsible for holding Adam King, although Friar’s the one actually doing the job. He’s supposed to be on your side, but he’s lied to you, kept information from you, and undermined your mission. And yet you don’t think he’ll violate your code.”
Alycithin grimaced. “Lies, however crude, are not dishonorable.”
“Just bad form.” In sidhe eyes, it seemed, you kept your word even if it killed you and all your family, but deception and trickery were fine. Expected, even. Yet to lie outright was on a par with farting loudly in church. “He’ll lose a lot of points back home for lying.”
“That does not mean he will kill a hostage.”
“Friar would. In a snap.”
“Too damn right,” Drummond said.
Alycithin shrugged. “Robert Friar wishes for many things from Benessarai. He will not anger him. However, if Jasper Machek did violate his agreement with Friar, who is Benessarai’s agent in this, he has forfeited Adam King’s freedom. I will make sure Benessarai does not leave him in Robert Friar’s custody, but the best I can do is see that Adam King returns with us to our realm, where he will spend the rest of his life as a hostage.”
“Even if Friar violated his end of their deal?”
“Do you believe Robert Friar will admit to Benessarai that he broke oath?”
Put that way, no. “Will Benessarai believe Friar over you?”
She spoke very dryly. “He has so far.”
“Because you two are rivals.” And a hair away from being enemies outright, Lily thought. Benessarai did not trust Alycithin, or claimed he didn’t. He’d set up his own hostage-keeping spot elsewhere in the city, though this apartment had originally been intended for any hostages either of them acquired. Lily had the idea that he and Alycithin were barely speaking to each other.
“It is not so simple as that word suggests, but perhaps you do not need to understand the nuances. It may be helpful to know that my position on the delegation is both punishment and opportunity.”
“A punishment?”
“If the delegation does poorly, the blame will go to me.”
“Even though he’s in charge?”
A touch of impatience flickered in her green eyes. “We are coleaders. Did I not tell you that?”
“You said you were both, ah…I’ve forgotten the word.”
“I failed to explain. Benessarai and I were given joint leadership of the delegation’s goals, but he has far more authority than do I. You may confirm this with your own eyes. He has six people. I have two. They are capable and loyal, but they are two to his six.”
“Listen,” Drummond said. “I’m not doing you any good here. I’m going to see what else I can learn, but you’ll have to call me again to get me through those walls.”
Lily drummed her fingers, careful to look at her hand, not the ghost. She didn’t want him to go, but he was right. He wasn’t helping here…except for making her feel less alone. Go on, then.
“Call me in thirty minutes.” He evaporated.
Lily looked up at the halfling again. “I think I understand. On paper, you and Benessarai are coleaders. In reality, he’s running the show.”
Alycithin nodded. “If I understand your idiom, that is the case. His father is Lord Thierath; his mother is Lord Sessena. My own breeding is…” Her smile flashed, quick and charming. Very nearly a grin. “You may have noticed, Lily, that I am not elfin.”
“I had noticed that, yes.”
“There is some overt prejudice in my realm and a good deal of stereotyping. A most useful word, that,” she added with a lazy smile. “For all its limitations in some areas, English provides an excellent framework for certain concepts. My father is Rekklat. His people are honored as worthy and excellent warriors, but they are not considered capable of the subtleties of dtha through which one may rise in…but now I arrive at those limitations. The closest English word I can think of is society, yet that does not convey my meaning well.”
“Status?” Lily suggested. “Or caste?”
She tipped her head, considering. “Perhaps caste is closer, as it partakes of elements of status as well as power. I am ambitious, you see. Some do not believe ambition is fitting in a halfling. Lord Thierath is one such. Lord Sessena, however, is my sponsor.”
Lily’s eyebrows rose. “Benessarai’s father doesn’t approve of you, but his mother is your sponsor? What does that mean?”
“You have not an equivalent status. I am life-sworn to her. She arranged for me to be coleader with her son. I will speak now with a degree of bluntness that would be considered stupid and absurd by my mother’s people.” She paused as if waiting for Lily to give her permission to be blunt.
“Okay.”
“Benessarai is a fool. His mother knows this. She wished to have one with him who owes her much. One who is, perhaps, not a fool.”
Carefully Lily asked, “Is that the opportunity part of the deal?”
Again a quick smile. “Very good. If the delegation is sufficiently successful that Benessarai is not disgraced, I will receive little public credit, but Lord Sessena will have reason to be very pleased with me.”
“And Lord Sessena has the whole package—authority, power, breeding.”
“She is very high caste.” She selected a grape. “Perhaps you are wondering why I tell you so much about myself.”
“If you were one of my people, I’d say you were trying to enlist me. Convince me we were on the same side in some ways so that I’ll do something you want.”
Alycithin peeled the grape slowly. Her nails were a little longer than Lily’s, well-shaped, but just a bit off. Narrow, as if they’d considered being claws at one point, but changed their minds. “I would say we are negotiating. I wish you to understand why I would negotiate with one who seems to be without power in this situation.” She contemplated the grape she’d peeled, put it in her mouth, and bit. “I must tell you something more, I believe. Lord Rethna’s realm is in chaos. Not simply his land, but the entire realm. The Queens are there. Both of them. You do not know how…astounding…this is. The Queens have not left Thalinol together in over three thousand years.”
“Since the Great War?”
The eyebrows lifted. “Yes.” She paused. “I do not know what your word, your promise, means to you. You seemed surprised I would consider mine binding.”
“Not surprised, exactly. Lupi consider their word binding in an absolute sense like you do. They’re very careful what they promise. Ah…my culture places a high value on honoring one’s word, but it is not absolute. We believe there can be mitigating circumstances. If breaking my word was the only way to save lives, I would do that. But it would truly have to be the only way.”
Alycithin looked at her hands. She smoothed an invisible crease from the yellow silk of her gown then looked up and met Lily’s eyes. “Will you give me your word you will not repeat what I tell you now?”
“No.”
“No? You give me that single, naked response?”
“I’m careful where I give my promises, too. First, I don’t withhold information from Rule. That’s firm. I very seldom withhold things from my boss, and only when there’s…you might call it a conflict of honor. When I think honor is better served by my silence. You asked for too broad a promise.”