Morvilind said nothing as he drew himself up, but I saw the rage on his face. The last time I had seen that expression had been when he had butchered those two Archons outside the Marneys’ house.
I was suddenly certain that I had made a mistake, that I had pushed him too far, that he was going to kill all four of us.
A van door slammed in the ominous silence.
I glanced to the side and saw Rusk scramble out of the van, a computer tablet in his hand. He looked shocked, and he rushed towards Morvilind.
“My lord,” he said. “My lord, you need to see this right now.”
“Not now,” snapped Morvilind.
“My lord, I apologize for interrupting, but this is extremely important, and I sincerely believe that you will want to see this right now,” said Rusk, coming to a stop and holding out the tablet.
That caught Morvilind’s attention. I doubt Rusk contradicted him all that often.
“Very well,” said Morvilind. “What is it?”
In answer, Rusk rotated the screen to face us and turned up the volume.
It was a news report, with two polished anchors looking solemn as they gazed into the camera.
“More information about the Battle of New York was released today,” said the male anchor. “The Skythrone has announced that the entire battle was, in fact, a diversion to allow the Rebels to sneak a nuclear weapon into the city.”
“That’s right, Bob,” said the female anchor. “And the Rebels came within a minute of detonating the weapon. We have exclusive footage, just released by the Skythrone, of the Inquisition agent who disarmed the weapon.”
“What?” I said.
An overhead shot of 7th Avenue appeared. I remembered that there had been a lot of camera drones flying over Times Square, no doubt to capture footage of the Royal Progress from every possible direction. I saw the blue box truck drive down the street, I saw myself shoot past and blow up the diesel tank. I watched as I killed Nicholas and ran into the truck.
“That dramatic footage,” said the male anchor, “was the truck that carried the bomb into the city in a failed effort to assassinate the High Queen. The announcement from the Skythrone identified the Inquisition agent as Nadia Moran of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, age twenty-two.”
My scowling driver’s license photo appeared in the lower right-hand corner of the screen.
“What the hell?” I said, almost shouting.
“It looks like she saved a lot of lives,” said the female anchor. “The announcement gave no further details about…”
“What the hell?” I said, shouting this time.
I looked at Morvilind. For the first time I could ever recall, he looked puzzled. Even taken aback.
“Who told them who I was?” I snapped.
Morvilind blinked several times, and then looked up.
I heard a faint roar, and I followed Morvilind’s gaze.
Three helicopters were flying low over Battery Park, heading right towards us. As I watched, the helicopters rotated and began coming down, landing in the parking lot by the pier.
They were the same helicopters I had seen take off from the Skythrone.
“Boss,” said Nora, her voice uncertain. “That’s not…”
“That,” said Morvilind, “is the High Queen’s helicopter.” He grimaced. “I suspect she wishes to have a conversation with us.”
Chapter 14: Thief Trap
I stood frozen with shock as the helicopters shut down with a whine, the rotors coming to a halt.
For one of the few times in my life, I had absolutely no idea what to do next.
And I wasn’t the only one. I looked at Morvilind, half-expecting him to give orders, but he stood in grim silence, waiting.
“Riordan,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
He opened his mouth to answer, and Royal Guards started to disgorge from the helicopters. They were stern-faced Elven men in gleaming silver armor, crimson cloaks streaming from their shoulders, swords and pistols at their belts. I had seen them fight the Archons with sword and spell, and there was no way I wanted to face them in a battle. Some humans emerged as well, mostly dour-looking middle-aged men in expensive business suits, tablet computers in hand.
Then a middle-aged woman, trim and fit, climbed down from the helicopter, and after her came a tall, bony-looking man with a graying crew cut and a cane in his hand, and…
“Russell!” shouted Lucy Marney.
She ran across the parking lot and caught him in a hug, James Marney limping along behind her at a good clip despite his scarred leg.
“Hi,” said Russell. “Sorry I…uh, sneaked off like that.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Lucy, blinking back tears. “Oh, thank you God, you’re safe. They said you were safe, but I had to see it for myself.” She looked at me and grinned, and suddenly she hugged me, too. “Nadia. Oh, we were so worried about you. But look at what you did.”
James limped up and leaned on his cane.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I said. “For the stuff I did, and running off, and…and disappearing like that, and taking Russell with me, and…”
James put a hand on my shoulder, and I stammered to a halt.
“Kiddo,” he said. “It’s okay. You kind of saved the world.”
“You’re not under arrest?” I said. “They didn’t arrest you?”
“No,” said James. More Elves emerged from the helicopter. Arvalaeon appeared, his long black coat stirring around him, along with the grim-faced Lord Mythrender, Duke of Manhattan and the High Queen’s Lord Marshal. Lord Mythrender glared at Morvilind, who glared right back at him and Arvalaeon. The Lord Inquisitor ignored the glare, and I did my best not to look at him. “No, they came to Milwaukee to pick us up. The High Queen herself had summoned us, I guess. They also picked up Russell’s shop teacher for some reason…”
Even as he spoke the words, Nathan Vander emerged from one of the helicopters. He was a thin, rough-looking middle-aged man in a work shirt and jeans. Except he was actually a former Archon, and his appearance was an illusion from the Ghostwright Mask the High Queen had given him. He was also a bloodcaster, able to use his magic to heal nearly anything. I had asked him to heal Russell, and he had been willing, but frostfever was so potent that Vander would have needed the powerful magic of a dragon pearl to make the spell work.
Vander looked around, blinked, and hurried to join us.
“Mr. Vander?” said Russell. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a phone call after the battle ended,” said Vander. “The High Queen has put me to work healing people in New York, but…I don’t know. I think she has something else in mind for me, I…”
“Attention!” barked Lord Mythrender. He had a harsh, deep voice. “Her Majesty Tarlia, High Queen of Elves and humans!”
The High Queen emerged from the central helicopter.
She looked just as she did in all her official portraits, tall and beautiful and imposing and terrifying. The High Queen wore armor of similar design to that of the Royal Guard, gleaming and silvery. In her right hand, she carried a silver staff topped by a headpiece that looked like a combination of a rotating gyroscope and an astrolabe.
The Elves, all of them save for the Royal Guards, dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. For the first time in my life, I saw Kaethran Morvilind, archmage and Elven lord, kneel to someone. The Marneys knelt, though James had to wince a bit to get his knee down. Riordan and Russell and Nora went to one knee.
“For God’s sake!” hissed Vander. “Kneel!”
His voice jerked me out of my shock, and I went to one knee.
I heard the click of the High Queen’s boots as she walked towards us, the staff tapping against the asphalt. Closer and closer she came, and a cold fear gripped me.
She was walking right towards me.
She stopped in front of me.
Then the High Queen dropped to her haunches, so she was looking me right in the face.
The fear worsened. The High Queen’s face was alien and beautiful and terrifying, and her eyes were like flames licking the bottom of copper pans. Her red hair streamed behind her like a banner of fire, and she wore a simple golden circlet. I felt the weight of those strange eyes on me, felt the attention of a mind as powerful and as unyielding as Morvilind himself.
I shivered in the grip of that gaze like a deer caught by the headlights of an oncoming truck.
Then something unexpected happened.
The High Queen winked at me.
I blinked in astonishment. The High Queen Tarlia, the supreme ruler of Earth, had just winked at me. A lot of strange things had happened today, but by God, that was the strangest.
“So,” murmured Tarlia, her voice like music and thunder. “The girl who nuked Venomhold.”
I swallowed. “Yes, your Majesty.”
“Hmm. Thought you would be taller.”
I blinked again, and Tarlia reached out and took my left hand, turning it over. She ran a finger along the metal identification tags I wore on my wrist.
“Jeremy Shane,” she said. “I remember him.” The strange blue eyes grew distant. “He was a man of vision. Many things might have been different had he but lived.”
“He…he left a video, your Majesty,” I said, forcing moisture into my dry throat. “A final message for his successor.”
She smiled a little. “I imagine he called me impolite names.”
In point of fact, Shane had called her a cast-iron bitch.
No way I was repeating that, though.
“He…said that humanity needs to work with the Elves,” I said. “That if we didn’t, the Dark Ones would destroy us both.”
“Shane learned that lesson,” said Tarlia. “It seems that you did, too. As I did, a long, long time ago.” She came to her feet in a single fluid motion. “Rise, all of you.” Her voice was imperious, commanding now. I got to my feet with the others, my heart hammering against my chest.
“Your Majesty,” said Morvilind. “We must…”
Tarlia raised a finger, and to my amazement, Morvilind stopped talking. “I’ll get to you in a moment, Kaethran. First, though. I believe that is Riordan MacCormac who now stands before me.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Riordan, stepping to my side.
Tarlia’s eyes flicked between us, and she seemed almost amused. “As I recall, Mr. MacCormac, I hired the Family to rid me of Nicholas Connor. Instead, it seems that your girlfriend killed him. On national television, no less.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Riordan again.
“That was very gallant, though,” said Tarlia. “You and young Mr. Moran flinging yourselves into the rift way after her. My Lord Inquisitor’s rift way, as it happened.” She looked at Arvalaeon, who remained impassive. I wondered how much he had told her about the battle. “Now why would the Lord Inquisitor open a rift way for them, I wonder?”
“He…felt he owed me,” I said.
Tarlia’s eyes turned to burning ice. “He felt he owed you because he did. I asked him to rid me of Baron Castomyr before the idiot did something foolish. My Lord Inquisitor botched the matter so badly that he was left with no choice but to put a human in an Eternity Crucible to become strong enough to kill Castomyr.” She rapped the end of her staff against the asphalt. “This, despite my explicit command not to put any humans into Eternity Crucibles. I am displeased when my lords fail to follow my wishes. It makes me…cross.”
Somehow, she filled that final word with deadly menace.
“So, Miss Moran,” said Tarlia, turning back to me. “Tell me a story. Tell me how matters came to such a state that the only thing that saved Earth from destruction was a margin of ninety seconds and your actions.”
“Uh,” I said. “It’s a very long story, and your Majesty’s time is very valuable…”
“Darling,” said Tarlia, “I don’t wait on people. People wait on me. Take as long as you like. I will be disappointed if you omit anything.”
So I told her everything. I didn’t dare lie, not with Arvalaeon standing next to her. I told the High Queen about the Eternity Crucible, about Morvilind’s deal with the Forerunner, about Chicago and the Royal Bank and Last Judge Mountain. Tarlia said nothing, her fingers tapping against her staff. She looked at me without blinking as I spoke, which was unsettling.
“You threw the Sky Hammer into Venomhold,” said Tarlia. “Clever. How did you plan to escape?”
“I…uh, well, I didn’t,” I said. “I thought that was it.”
“I see,” said Tarlia. “So, both Lord Arvalaeon and Lord Morvilind saw fit to disregard my wishes. Consequently, the only thing that saved all our lives was the bravery and quick thinking of a psychologically disturbed human woman.” Her eyes turned to Morvilind. “I am disappointed with you, Kaethran.”
“Your Majesty,” said Morvilind, his voice stiff. “Everything I have done, as always, has been to save our race. To work towards our return and reconquest of Kalvarion.”
“And, as always,” said Arvalaeon to him, “your methods are too ruthless.”
“I am not the one who put Miss Moran into the Eternity Crucible,” said Morvilind.
“Nor am I the one who made a deal with the human Forerunner,” said Arvalaeon.
“That’s quite enough. Are you lords of the Elves, or squabbling children?” said Tarlia, and the Lord Inquisitor and the archmage subsided. She looked at me. “Do you see my dilemma? I am never ruthless enough for Kaethran. Nor am I merciful enough for Arvalaeon. It is like those old cartoons that humans made in the pre-Conquest epoch, showing a woman with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.”
I realized that she was waiting for an answer.
“Uh,” I said. “I…I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Eloquent,” said Tarlia. “Thankfully, you have other talents. Well, my lords, you have heard her story. What shall I do with her?”
“Reward her,” said Lord Mythrender. “Because of Morvilind’s bungling,” Morvilind glared at him, “we were almost slain in a nuclear explosion. The girl’s wit prevented that.”
“I agree with the Lord Marshal,” said Arvalaeon.
“It is against custom,” said Morvilind, his voice stiff, “for the sovereign to interfere with the shadow agents of his or her vassals.”
But he seemed somehow resigned as he said it. As if he had just decided to accept an outcome he didn’t like.
“I’m afraid you’re outvoted, Kaethran,” said Tarlia. “Two to one. Democracy is at times a useful tool, isn’t it? Nadia Moran, come here.”
I swallowed and stepped closer to her.
“I need to cast the mindtouch spell on you,” said Tarlia. “A look inside your head. It’s much more reliable than simply asking you questions about your nature, isn’t it? You can decline, of course, but then I’ll just have to kill you.”
“No,” I said. “No, go ahead.”
“Wise girl,” Tarlia said, and she cast the mindtouch spell and put her free hand on my forehead.
Her fingers felt icy cold, and then I sensed the mindtouch spell.
It was a peculiarly gentle touch. Hailey Adams had been good with the mindtouch spell but compared to Tarlia, Hailey had been a blundering child. I felt Tarlia’s will probing my thoughts, and as I felt the link, I realized something.
She hadn’t shielded her mind from me. I could look through the link and into her mind.
Her voice echoed in my head.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Tarlia. “Look for yourself.”
So I did. I mean, she told me to do it. Right away I realized why she didn’t fear having me look inside her head, because she was strong enough to crush me without much difficulty. Hailey had been good at this, but if she had tried to reach inside of Tarlia’s mind, the High Queen would have reduced her to a drooling vegetable.
I looked into her mind, and a mixture of fear and amazement went through me.
Because her mind was a lot l
ike mine.
I recognized the same ruthlessness, the same contempt for laziness, the same inability to relax. And Tarlia had those attributes because she had gotten them from the same source. Morvilind had trained her as a child with the same harsh lessons and the same brutal training methods. That was why her mind looked like a dim reflection of my own. It was almost like we had endured parallel childhoods.
And there were other similarities.
She felt about the Elves the way I did about Russell. She would do anything to save them, had done things she would never have otherwise contemplated doing.
And humanity had been to her as Alexandra Ross had been to me. I had almost murdered Alexandra to save Russell. Tarlia had done the same thing to mankind. She had thought about exterminating humanity after the Conquest to save the Elves. She had even planned to do it. Yet in the end, she hadn’t been able to do it, for the same reason that I hadn’t been able to murder Alexandra.
She couldn’t live with herself if she did it.
“You understand, do you not?” murmured Tarlia’s voice in my head. “The price of power. You wanted power, and now you have it. And the price of power is duty.”
The mindtouch spell ended, and Tarlia stepped back.
“Exeter,” she said.
One of the middle-aged men in business suits looked up. “Your Majesty?”
“This is my will,” said Tarlia. “I find that Nadia Moran has acted admirably and selflessly, and rendered great service to both Elves and humanity.” Exeter started making notes on his tablet. Tarlia started walking towards Morvilind. “It is my wish that she receive royal thanks, and that she receive a boon.”
“A boon?” said Exeter.
Morvilind blinked. “A boon?”
“Did I tell you to repeat everything I said?” Tarlia stopped in front of Morvilind, considered him for a moment.
Then she reached out and calmly plucked the vial of my blood from Morvilind’s hand.
“What manner of boon?” I said, wary.
“Why, what do you want, Nadia Moran?” said Tarlia, turning the vial over in her fingers. “If it is in my power, I will grant it to you. Though I very strongly suggest that you choose wisely.”
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