Never Trust an Elf

by Robert N. Charrette

  "A small multinational trading in security magic and tech. Their equipment would be an obvious choice for penetrating our facility. Therefore the presence of such equipment is no sure indicator that Miltron itself is involved."

  "Bring me a file on them."

  "Yes, sir." Tsossie walked away and entered a room halfway down the corridor. Glasgian contemplated the damaged corridor. Extermination of the raiders had disturbed its serenity. In a few minutes, Tsossie returned and said, "If you will follow me, sir. I have a terminal ready for you."

  Glasgian followed her. The terminal was indeed ready and he scanned the data. It was incomplete. "There is no data on the owners of this company."

  "I can call up a listing of companies involved in the holding corporation that controls Miltron, but beyond that layer of corporations, the web expands. The ultimate holdings are unclear, and I thought it best not to weight mere possibilities with the appearance of certainty."

  "Show me."

  She edged past him to access the terminal. In a few seconds a list of company names appeared on the screen. She stepped back diffidently. For a moment he looked at her instead of at the screen and she stiffened under his scrutiny. She had always shown such efficiency, often answering his questions before he asked them. Not having the list of Miltron's owners ready was uncharacteristic. Perhaps she was hiding something; he would put a watchdog on her. On the other hand, perhaps she was just being cautious. He had not yet punished her; having failed once, she might simply fear a second, more personally disastrous failure. He gave off his scrutiny of her and pondered the names. "Dig deeper."

  "It will take time."

  "Do it. However, do not take too much time." If his enemies knew of what he and Urdli had hidden in Basement Level Four, he needed to know. So far they had managed to keep secret the location of their prize, or so he had believed until last night's raid. One of the names on the screen caught his attention, suggesting a possibility that had not occurred to him.

  "One of the parent companies, Southern Cross Pharmaceuticals, is of especial interest to me."

  "Why, sir?"

  Tsossie's voice held no hint of fear, but there was definite interest there. Had she taken SCP's coin? Even if she hadn't and wasn't trying to find out if he was on to her, she had no business questioning his reasons.

  "Just do your job," he snapped.

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Go! Do it!"

  She fled the room and he sat down in the chair placed before the terminal.

  Could it be that this raid had not been directed by outsiders?

  SCP. as its name suggested, was a concern operating in the southern hemisphere. Australia, to be specific. Could it be coincidence?

  Glasgian recalled hearing of SCP's rise to prominence in the Australian business community. It had involved making an unexpected fortune in a mineral deal. Coincidence? Unlikely. For Urdli, the uncovering of vast mineral wealth would be a trivial exercise.

  Urdli knew where the crystal was being kept, and he knew the security arrangements. Was the Australian making a play to cut Glasgian out? Perhaps Urdli believed that removing the crystal from Glasgian's control would slow him down to the snail's pace that Urdli demanded.

  If so, that dark-skinned fossil had no idea how wrong he was.

  Despite what Glasgian had told Urdli, his own analyses were proceeding well and he anticipated having the answers he wanted very soon. And once he had those answers, he would no longer need Urdli. He would be especially glad not to have to listen to Urdli's constant corrections and homilies, so like those he endured from his father.

  Once Glasgian had wrested the secrets from the crystal, he would have the power he sought. And nothing was going to stop him from wielding that power, using it to blast away the shadow of his father and to take his rightful place among the rulers of the new order.

  17

  Kham didn't know how the catboy had managed to set up a meet with Dodger, but took it as a sign that Neko was learning his way around the Seattle shadows. The kid didn't have the same problem as Kham and his runners. Norms were far more common in Seattle, and Asians were no small portion of that population. Being able to blend in more easily topside, Neko could leave the Underground more safely. Even now, two weeks after the burning of the hall, Kham was anxious about going topside.

  But the catboy had been insistent, claiming that this meet would help Kham make up his mind. So now they were waiting in a loft on the Redmond side of Bellevue, their bikes stashed back of a garage down the street. Kham didn't like leaving his Scorpion that way—anybody could walk into the alley, jump the engine, and ride off—but there hadn't been much choice, not even any local gangers to sell them protection. If Rabo or Ratstomper had come, they could have stayed to watch the bikes, but Kham thought things were still too hot for any of the others to come along topside. That meant nobody to watch the bike. There wasn't supposed to be a lot of crime, grand larceny included, in Bellevue, but then there wasn't supposed to be a lot of crime anywhere in Seattle, according to the governor. Just the thought of leaving the big Scorpion unguarded made Kham's bottom itch.

  Dodger arrived and there were friendly greetings all around. Kham was surprised that the elf was actually polite. Surprised and suspicious. Maybe Neko hadn't set up the meet. Maybe this was the Dodger's meet, and the catboy was getting Kham involved in more elf drek. But Kham's suspicion eased a bit when the elf melted into one of the chairs and draped a black leather-clad leg over the arm. That was Dodger's casual pose, the one he used when he wanted to show he wasn't really interested in Sally's latest run. If the elf was fixing, he'd be more formal.

  Neko cut the prelims, stared straight at the elf, and said, "You were born before the Awakening."

  The statement caught Kham off guard, but Dodger didn't even twitch. He just smiled blandly at Neko. "Preposterous, Sir Cat. Everyone knows that there were no elves before the Awakening."

  "What everyone knows is rarely what is real, and there are certain special histories known to the special few, are there not?"

  " 'Twould seem you seek to spin a fairy story of conspiracies and shady doings." Dodger yawned. "Pray, Sir Cat, make it brief. I bore so easily, especially when there are real-world deeds to be done."

  "I have not brought you a story, Dodger. Just conclusions. I find you prime evidence for one particular conclusion that seems inescapable."

  "And what, prithee, is that?"

  "That elves are older than the magic."

  "You leap so blithely, Sir Cat. I must admire your agility, though your wisdom escapes my sight. Your mystery is no mystery and your great conclusion erroneous. Elves are simply a magical expression of the genetic code of humanity. In the absence of mana, there are no elves."

  "Yet you were born before 2011."

  "You have obviously assembled some data to convince yourself of that." Dodger turned a bemused face to Kham. "Have you seen this patented drek. Sir Tusk?"

  "Ain't." And he hadn't, but for the moment he was inclined to play along with Neko's game and follow the catboy's lead. "But if da catboy says he's got it. I tink he does. Ya gonna come clean, elf?"

  "Clean? Clean? What would you know of that, Sir Tusk?

  Kham sucked in air and clenched his fists. He wanted to smash the fancy-talking elf in the face and shove some of those pearly teeth down his throat, but a feather-light touch on his shoulder restrained him.

  Neko waited until Kham let go of the breath before speaking.

  "You'll not distract us with taunts and insults, Dodger." Neko produced a datachip from somewhere about his person and flourished it. "We know your history."

  "Do you?"

  Neko smiled the way his namesake might over a captured mouse. "Major William Randall and his tragic wife, Angelica. Beverly Park. Zip and the Hooligans. The fire at Everett Community College. Ice Eyes Estios. Teresa."

  Kham furrowed his brow at the list of names. He couldn't make sense of them or see any connections, but the elf obviou
sly did; Dodger's eyes were narrowed into slits and his expression was hard and sour as an unripe fruit.

  "Enow!" Dodger threw himself out of his chair and stalked across the room. He stopped at the wall and, after a moment, glared over his shoulder at Neko. "You are a most curious cat, Neko-san."

  "No argument," the catboy said with a grin. "So satisfy that curiosity and tell us how can an elf be born before any elves are born?"

  Dodger returned slowly to his chair and stood looking down at it as if struggling with whether he should sit or not. In the end, he did, though not so casually as when he first arrived. Speaking softly and slowly, he said, "I am a spike baby, born at a time and in a place where the mana was stronger for a while. Elven genes express when the mana level is high enough. At certain times, and in certain places, the level was high enough for the genes to activate. Tis not such a great mystery. There are others like me. The records of such temporary resurgences of magic exist."

  "In dark corners," Neko said.

  Dodger shrugged. "Perhaps 'tis as you say. I did nothing to hide such facts. What matter is it? Those events are decades old; spike babies are a phenomena of no import, for we live in the Sixth World and elves are common now, their existence notable but not noteworthy. You act as if you hold some dark and terrible secret over me. Pray, what is the point of this tiresome exercise? Surely this is no bout of unbridled and pointless curiosity."

  Kham snorted. "Might be. Ya never know with the catboy."

  "Poor bluff, Sir Tusk. I have seen from your face that you are innocent of much of your companion's doings, yet you have come with him. Hitherto you have always sought your own interests before those of others, and I have had no indication that your inclinations have altered. Thus, you are aligned with him in this invasion of privacy.

  "We have run the shadows together. Sir Tusk. I turn to you to sidestep the inscrutability of your companion. What would you have of me? For the sake of our former fellowship, have done with this fencing. Strike home and be done!"

  Kham wasn't sure how much of the elf's theatrical speech was real and how much show, but something in the appeal touched him as honest. The elf was really uncomfortable about the topic. Kham liked that. It was nice to see the elf squirming for a change.

  "So, how old are ya?"

  "I remember the broadcast about the fall of the Empire State Building in the New York City earthquake," Dodger said quietly.

  "Drek! Dat was nearly fifty years ago. Ya look like a teenager."

  " 'Tis the way elves are made."

  "Ya ever gonna get old?"

  "Each day I grow older."

  "Drek, ya weaselly elf! Ya know what I mean."

  "Ease off, Kham," Neko said softly. "We have no need to insult Dodger, no matter how evasive he is. You understand that one cannot always speak plainly, don't you?" He turned to Dodger. "You are under constraints in this matter, are you not?"

  "Believe as you must," the elf replied.

  "Oh, I shall," Neko assured him. "Laverty is an elf like you."

  "In truth, you have seen him. You know he is."

  "I meant something more specific," Neko said coolly. "Laverty is older than you. Is he another spike baby?"

  Dodger inclined his head in a sign of affirmation. Neko poked again. "Surely the mana spikes would have been noticed if they had occurred before the general return of magic."

  "If they had been common," Dodger agreed. "But they are, or I should say, were not. Spikes are transient phenomena, short-lived. They come into existence as the mana rises, and vanish as it falls. At those times magical effects certainly occurred. Some things not generally possible until the dawn of this new age did happen. Not often, and certainly not everywhere. And, indeed, 'tis true that some spike-resultant phenomena were noticed, and reported, but the events and beings were dismissed as the fantasies of tabloid journalism."

  "Such a casual discussion of history suggests an intimate knowledge."

  "Or merely an interest in older matters," Dodger remarked offhandedly.

  "Perhaps. But your easy acceptance of mana spikes compels my belief in them and I think I would have no trouble confirming the previous existence of spikes.

  I find the concept fascinating. Their existence requires a flow of magic, because each spike would, perforce. have a rising and falling component. Each an up and a down that has happened more than once."

  "I said nothing of repetitive spikes."

  "No, but you did say there were many spikes. They need not occur in the same place or over some definite period of time to suggest a repetitive nature to the overall phenomenon of spikes. Tides rise and fall but reach different levels, and tides are very cyclic. Your description of spikes makes me think of tides, of a repetitive element to the presence of mana. Cycles, perhaps. Have you heard of Ehran the Scribe's cycle theory?"

  Without a pause, Dodger said, "I have said nothing of cycles."

  "You have referred to a return of magic and a resurgence of mana. More than once. Those words refer to repetition, and strongly imply a waxing and a waning."

  Dodger turned away to stare out the window. "I am no expert on magic."

  "But you know one," Neko said, smiling at the elf's back.

  "I am not conversant with cycles or magic, but I do know enough to warn you that digging into this matter is unhealthy." Dodger faced them. "Leave it alone."

  "A threat?"

  "A warning. Such activity will bring you to the attention of certain persons. ..."

  "Elves?"

  "Persons, Sir Cat. Persons who will take your curiosity ill. The proverbs, even in your country, tell of the results of undue curiosity."

  Dodger might be trying to hide it, but Kham guessed that the decker's "persons" were indeed elves, elves who were already hiding certain other secrets, elves who went around digging up fragging big crystals covered with carvings. Well, those elves didn't have to know that he and the catboy were on to them until it was too late for them to do anything about it. But right now, the attention of elves, any elves, was undesirable. Knowledge about elves, however, was a valuable commodity, and the catboy was persistently pursuing that knowledge.

  "Is Urdli one of these persons?" Neko asked nonchalantly.

  Dodger started at the mention of the name that meant nothing to Kham. "How do you know that name?"

  "Good research. Connections. A collection of coincidences that must, perforce, be more than coincidences. Let us say that I put together a glimpsed face, a certain ruthlessness, memories of such ruthlessness shown in certain operations involving an elf of color, your own connection to this matter, and your previous connections to another matter."

  Head spinning, Kham was beginning to be glad the catboy was on his side.

  Dodger sighed. "All this in the name of idle curiosity, Sir Cat?"

  "Hardly idle."

  "Yeah," Kham agreed. "We got our reasons."

  " 'Tis likely. I hope they are good enough for the risks you run."

  "Run risks before," Kham said. 'It's what runners do."

  " 'Tis true. Too true."

  "How old is Urdli?" Neko asked.

  Dodger stared at the catboy for a long time before deciding on his answer. " 'Twould be fair to say he is well beyond his youth."

  Kham again wanted to smash the evasive elf in the face, but Neko's feather touch was back, calming him. Kham realized that the catboy was right. Violence wouldn't get a response from Dodger. The catboy knew what he was doing. Kham left him to it.

  "So he is older, too. I had suspected as much. Is he older than Laverty?"

  Dodger said confidently, "You shall find no records of his birth."

  Neko leaned eagerly forward. "How old is he, Dodger?"

  "As I have said, he is no youth. You'll get no other answer from me, for I know not the truth of the matter. Were I to lie to you in this, you would take it ill. And were I to tell the truth as I understand it, you would think me a liar."

  "Very old, then," Neko said, and the sil
ence enveloped the three of them.

  Kham didn't know who this Urdli was, but he had a suspicion. The catboy had said "an elf of color," and Kham had only encountered one of those recently— the Dark One. Like all the other elves, he looked like a kid, but here was Dodger saying that this Urdli was an old man. Kham could see now that he had been right; the elves did have a secret of youth, perhaps even of immortality. This was why Neko had set up the meeting, to prove to Kham that he had been right, to show him that they had to do something. "He has it, doesn't he?"

  "Has what?" Dodger asked innocently.

  Kham knew better than to believe that act. "Our turn fer secrets," he said.

  "You do not know where you tread."

  "We know more dan ya tink, elf."

  "Sir Tusk, knowledge will not save you if you blunder around in your usual fashion."

  "Ain't gonna blunder."

  "Pray it be so," Dodger said solemnly.

  Neko smiled. "Have no fear," he told the elf. "Like my namesake, I shall tread lightly."

  Dodger looked at him with sadness in his eyes. "If you must walk this path, Sir Cat, you had best tread lightly and teach your friends to do so as well. Otherwise you had best hope that having cat for a namesake endows you with as many lives."

  18

  "Where are we going?" the catboy shouted over the roar of the bikes' engines.

  "Talk ta Laverty."

  "How are we going to do that?"

  "Ya said we could talk ta Dodger 'cause he was coming inta town wit Laverty, right?"

  "Hai, for a government conference. We can't get into that. Besides, Glasgian might be there. If he saw us, he'd know we're not dead."