Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1)

by Michael Ruger

  I pulled myself over the counter and grabbed the cashbox. There wasn’t much in it and I didn’t really need it, but I empted the contents into the pouch at my side and pushed through the open door at the back of store and into the stockroom. Behind me I could feel the heat growing as the crystal globes began to pop in the heat and flames.

  The dwarf hadn’t bothered to close the door to the service road and I stepped out into it. It was clear at the moment but wouldn’t stay so. There was no sign of Dalia or the dwarf. I couldn’t follow. I could hear shouts behind me and the breaking of more glass and hiding my bloody hands, I sped down the service way and vanished into the city.

  I’m not sure how long it took me to come to my senses, as I wondered the streets through the poorer districts of the outlaying court. I finally figured out which of the major roads I was near, although it didn’t matter anymore. There was too much turmoil to try and get to my father’s townhouse.

  The area I was heading towards was mostly filled with descendents of mortals who were brought here when such a thing did not violate the Compact. Occasionally, someone new would crop up by falling into an open portal or getting caught up in something like Marty had. I would be less conspicuous here and most of those who live here don’t have a much higher opinion of the Fey than I do making them unlikely to say anything to court officials who might come asking.

  I used to have a favorite inn that I stayed at when I was on business here but going to old haunts was a very bad way to stay undetected. I recalled that there were several inns with an unsavory reputation and that sounded like just the place for me. I had more than enough money to stay anonymous for a few days and more than enough to make myself invisible in the right place.

  I ended up at a joint called Titan’s Club. It was a typical three floor inn with common rooms on the bottom floor and two floors of quarters. I made arrangements with the owner, a mortal name Webber, who was perfectly happy to take my money and forget to put me on the registry. A few extra coins got me some bandages and a healing salve. I have to hand it to him, he acted like all my cuts and bruises were really invisible. He even offered to get “non-existent” cuts and tears in my clothing fixed by his wife. I think she disapproved of me, mainly because of the scowl that she gave me, but that may have been habitual in this part of the court.

  I sat on the reasonably clean bed and took stock. On the plus side my funds had bought me a temporary bolt hole. It even had a window with a drainpipe outside the window along with what looked suspiciously like handholds to enable an occupant to come and go without being seen. This cost a little extra, but was well worth it if you ever needed it. On the negative side there was a lot more. I had lost Dalia and had no idea if she was alive or dead. Somehow, they had found us again and had taken her. Then I realized that I had never bothered to take the tracking spell off of her. Shit. I was too distracted by what had happened to Marty and I had gotten distracted again and Dalia had paid the price. Why they didn’t just kill her as they tried to do to me I had no idea. I realized that I couldn’t go out on the streets because I didn’t know who was or what could be looking for me. The only card I hadn’t played was the one that caused me the most distress, my father. I would have to get him to come to me.

  I thought about method for a few moments and then decided that a sealed message would do the trick. It was running a risk, I knew that, but I didn’t really have many cards left to play or much to lose at this point. He might hate me, but I knew he valued the family name and reputation. I hoped enough to at least hear me out.

  So I sat and wrote a note that I felt sure he could not ignore, calling on the family name, and suggesting a meeting at yet another bar in the same neighborhood. When you are a fugitive it’s helpful to have someplace to get off the street. If this meet went south, I wanted to have a someplace off the street so I thought neutral ground would be better.

  When I am actually in the Bright Kingdom, Magic is easier for me. I’m not sure why exactly, although I believe it has to do with a higher magical energy state to start with, plus the fact that my fey heritage is more prominent here. Most half breeds that I have met look pretty Fey and they usually live at the court. I look almost entirely human. I sometimes think that if I moved to the court, I would gradually look more like a Fey, but that ain’t ever going to happen.

  I prepared my mind for a simple binding ritual. It’s basically a will working that seals the message to it recipient exclusively. If anyone other than my father opened the note then it would be destroyed. I am sure a high powered will worker could overcome it, but Jeryn’s team didn’t have one anymore and at this point I would almost welcome Sergeant Bermuda showing up to take this mess off my hands, but still I decided that it might be a good idea to make it stronger by pledging blood. This would be even more effective since I was sending it to a blood relative.

  “Hear me powers vast and small. I, Jake Underwood, son of Lord Stavros Melliscant and master of Lord Karen’s Blight do call you to hear my vow of blood.”

  As I have said before, the spirits are a lot thicker here than in the mortal realm and I good feel unseen eyes observing me and weighing my words. The power was much thicker here. In the mortal world it was like quicksilver and elusive and I also had to strain to grasp it. Here it was like molasses and all I had to do was reach and grasp thick ropes of the stuff.

  “By the powers that watch and the will that moves, I do abjure thee to guard this message and vouch that none but my Father shall read it or else consign it to flame and smoke. I offer blood as payment and as token of oath.”

  It wasn’t hard to find a place on me that was bleeding. Clenching my fist caused the gash in palm to open up a little and blood trickled out. I dipped my finger in the warm blood and begin to trace a symbol on the folded paper. Some mages like to seal the envelope with power but that always seemed like doing things backwards. Once you got the past the seal on the envelope you were in besides, it was dead giveaway something was important inside. Me, I put it on the letter itself. Nothing to see on the outside to draw attention and no way that someone could read the letter without dealing with my binding.

  The blood began to darken as the symbol set and gradually faded from sight, although I could still see it vaguely glowing when I unfocused my vision and concentrated.

  “By The lord of the hunt and the stalker of the stars, I call onto you who watch to attend this message and let none but my blood break this seal and read my words.” Power poured into the blood and I could feel it saturating the note with power. I closed off the flow and felt the spirits turn to other interests although they were still attached to this note in some small way.

  I went down into the common room and found Webber arguing with a customer who wasn’t sure if he should really pay for the beer he had drunk because he felt it didn’t meet his high standards. Weber countered his argument with a blackjack and that statement seemed to carry a lot of weight with the customer, who went face first onto the bar. Webber came around the bar and undid the customer’s purse and took out a few coins and retied it and put it back on the unconscious man. Apparently, Weber was not a thief. He signaled to a largish looking bouncer who slung the fully paid customer onto his back and took him through a door and closed it behind him.

  “Trouble?” I asked as I took a seat at the bar.

  “No not really, Sometime Mueller drinks a little too much and doesn’t want to pay. He’s got no head for beer and gets a little nasty. I give a little tap, take what he owes me, along with a little for a room and let him sleep it off. I would just kick him out when he comes in, but he’s always got coin, so I let him drink. Get you something?”

  “No, my head hurts already. What I could use is someone to run a message for me. Somebody trustworthy enough to stay bought.” I searched Webber’s face to see if I had pissed him off. Apparently, the concept of someone staying bought was fine by him and didn’t offend.

  “I got a nephew. He’s okay. Not real bright, but scared as
hell of me and he’ll do what I say.” He look questioningly at me.

  “He’ll do. I need this,” I said, holding up an envelope addressed to my father, “delivered to the addressee as soon as possible.” He took the envelope and scanned it. His eyes widened a little.

  “Don’t get nervous.” I told him. “I just need to get this to him quickly.” I slid ten pieces of moonstruck silver across the bar. I didn’t even see them disappear. “We have a deal then?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make sure that he gets this to Lord Stav-.“ A harsh look from me stopped him midsentance. “I mean, to whoever it says here on this envelope, right away.”

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping for. Discretion coupled with speed. He is to wait for a reply and then delivery it as quickly as possible. How soon can my cloak be repaired?” I asked.

  “Jenna’s already got your cloak sewn and cleaned. If you give me the rest and I can have’em ready to go in an hour or so.”

  “No. Just the cloak will do.” There was no way that I would take a chance on sitting around in a dive like the Titan’s Club in my skivies, while being hunted by a ruthless gang of murderers in a city I hated. I would hope that my cloak would cover any obvious defects in my attire, at least until it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  I went back to room and waited. Waiting is something you have to get used in the game. Most of the time as a detective you spend a lot of it waiting for something to happen. You develop little tricks to help pass the time. I usually imagine what I would have done differently and try to determine if my position would be better or worse. I usually fall on the slightly better than average side. I don’t always make the right choices, but I usually avoid the abysmally stupid ones. I thought back to the decisions I had made in this case. There were a lot of mistakes, most of them flowing from being personally involved in it. It’s a lot harder to be dispassionate and coldly analytical when your own are under fire. Not removing the damned tracking spell, especially when I should have remembered that Jeryn had already used it to find us at the mound. Really, I should have thought of it before then and that mistake had cost me Marty. Not removing it had cost me Dalia.

  A soft knock came at the door and I got and opened it and a young man with dark hair. He wore clothing that had often been mended but was clean. His eyes were sharp enough and he held out an envelope that bore the seal of my father’s house. Really, I guess it was my house too although I had never claimed it. I gave him a few small coins and closed the door.

  I broke the heavy seal and felt a locus of power loosen as it verified that I was indeed the correct person to breaking it. A single sheet of paper was in the envelope and I pulled it out and quickly read it. My father’s elegant script agreed to the meeting place I had suggested. Wonderful. Now all I had to do was show up and hope that I was correct in thinking that my family name meant enough to him so he would hear me out. Of course if it was a trap then there was little I could do. It was time for one last draw in the last hand. All the chips were on the table and this was my last play unless I won this pot. I just hoped what was there was enough to get me back in the game.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The mortal district is always tumultuous and today was no exception to that condition. I had chosen a meeting place that was on the edge of the mortal district. Often fey will like to slum a little and want to keep it quiet. Such places are popular for many purposes. I suppose the main one is sex, but occasionally as a neutral meeting site to conclude deals. I suppose that I may have given the impression that mortals are an underclass, and to some extent that is true, but in many ways the Bright Kingdom could not exist without them. They do a lot of the work and since most Fey wouldn’t consider taking time from amusement to actually engage in business, a lot of business. Sure, the Fey are still the cocks of the walk, but without mortals and half breeds there wouldn’t be much to crow about since the fey have so few children between them. It’s a screwy system, but everyone knows the score and as long as nobody gets too pushy about who’s doing what, things will keep going along nicely.

  Aran’s Staff was ostensibly a bakery and it did bake bread, but it’s most lucrative product was privacy. They make a decent cup of joe and I am told that you can get incredible beignets there. I wouldn’t know. More importantly, for a few coins it was possible to engage a room that was shielded from magical eavesdropping. I suppose someone could use conventional bugs like I use on the other side of the veil, but I think Fey would find it gauche to use technology when they have access to magic. They are all about magic and use it even when not doing so would serve them better.

  I rented a private meeting room and ordered a pot of coffee, full service and told the waiter that my guest would arrive shortly. While I waited I unfocused my vision and saw that there were indeed wards up. I couldn’t tell their exact nature, but I would guess they were privacy wards rather than defensive wards. These were pretty good ones and looked like they were renewed regularly. When you lay the same spell on a place time and again it sort of resonates with a kind of thumping beat. You have to listen for it, but it’s there. These laid a solid beat that seemed etched into the wood. I let my vision focus as a waiter brought in a pot of coffee held in some kind of magic carafe, probably designed to keep the coffee hot. There were several cups on the tray along with the full service I had requested. I poured a cup and waited.

  It didn’t take too long. My guess is that he was watching the place and waiting for me to show up and get settled. He stood framed in the door waiting for an invitation. He was tall, I noted, and as well formed as almost all Fey are. He had the ageless look that they exhibit so easily. He wasn’t wearing a glamour which was a little unusual for a Fey but not unheard of. He looked like he was in his mid thirties, but that meant nothing. I looked about the same age and I was 104.

  Back when I was much younger and more curious about such things I had investigated my father. He was over 1500 years old, from the heyday of court during Oberon’s reign and was probably born around the time of the signing of the Compact. I suppose it is possible for a Fey to die of old age, but I have never heard of it. Death by misadventure is much more common. He had his rises and falls within the Court power structure, depending on faction and fashion. He was currently an unknown quantity as he should have been at least 3rd circle and maybe 2nd just due to his relationship with the current Lord of Dawn. My guess was that something involving Dalia’s mother, Lady Mayletha, had gotten him demoted to 4th circle. How much political clout he had I did not know, having not kept up with court politics for a long time.

  My father was handsome as most Fey are and his demeanor was kind, even though I knew better. He was well dressed but not ostentatiously, as many Fey do, but well enough to avoid notice. He carried a blade, probably a rapier and probably a live blade instead of a ceremonial one like the one I left in Serlish’s crispy corpse.

  “Mr. Underwood?” My father had strong voice but kept it subdued. He seemed to be calm and in control, I wished I had felt the same way.

  “Straight to it, huh?” I asked as he nodded grimly. A note of agitation and perhaps of anticipation appeared in his eyes for a moment as he squelched them. He glanced at an empty chair and I waved him into the seat. He sat and waited.

  “Fine. We’ll play it that way ‘Father’, if that is how you want it, I have no objection.” I was having trouble reading his face. I wasn’t used to this. Most Fey wear glamours and don’t bother to control their feelings beneath the mask. I had gotten used to knowing what their faces showed. Lord Melliscant face was a mass of conflict kept under pretty tight control. Occasionally a hint of something would slip through, in this case disappointment.

  “Why are you here Mr. Underwood? Why have you called me here?” His voice was again calm and level.

  “Lord Melliscant, I can’t imagine that you have forgotten my Naming Day ceremony. It is tomorrow, is it not?”

  “That is correct. But that does not explain why you have summoned me here.” Fl
at and inflectionless still.

  “You know, ‘Dad’, I find it hard to believe that someone with connections as high up in the court as you are could possibly be so clueless.” I was taking my anger out on him for all the slights of the past century and I suppose my frustrations over recent events had made me a little rude and testy. He didn’t react. This actually made me more pissed off, if possible. I hadn’t realized that I had so much anger stored for later use. I decided to make it even worse.

  “Nothing to say? Very well, then I will do the talking. I have come to claim a Noble’s Privilege. You may not care to admit it, but I am your son and as such I have certain legal rights that not even you can deny. I am your son and of your house and I claim my privilege and if you don’t want the name Melliscant smeared across two courts and several realms and sub-realms then you better unload with a little of that political clout that I am sure you still carry around like so much loose change.” I inwardly smirked as I thought about the difficulty I was placing him in. I studied his face and was shocked to see not anger, but joy. Restrained it’s true, but it was there none the less. I was damned confused but could see no path but forward.

  “Do you ask freely and claim my name of your own will?” He stumped me with that one. The look of confusion must have been apparent on my face because he asked again. “Are you under some compulsion or geas to release my vow or will you release me from it freely?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What this vow crap? Will you grant my request for a Noble’s privilege or not?” I had no idea what he was talking about but I wish I did, because just once on this damn case I would like to know what the hell was going on.