“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.”
I did pity him then, a drunken old fool who had no idea the danger he was in. Like me, he had been sucked up in power politics without intending to be. Unlike me, he had no awareness of it, sure he was maneuvering his way out of a simple barter that had gone bad. “Have Ceridwen send someone for you, Nar. You can’t stay in here forever.”
He waved at a waitress. “That one. Another high-on-herhorse woman who thinks Nar Veinseeker can be used. Well, I used her, dammit. I used her to keep that witch away from me for weeks like I wanted, then I laid a trap for Gerda, and she sprung it. Beautiful piece of work, it was.”
“You killed her,” I said.
He snorted. “She killed herself. She stole an access stone to try to kill me. No one forced her to walk into that wall.”
“You set her up,” I said.
He grinned and hopped off the stool. “Damn straight. She’s been hunting me for a hundred years, and now I’m free. Leave me be, Grey. You’re killing my party.”
“At least stay here until I get back,” I said.
He bowed and lost his balance, bumping into several people. “Gladly, my friend. The night is long, and I’m short on drinks. Buy me a drink, and I’ll spot you a tale.”
He stumbled into the crowd, pushing his way back to his booth. I wanted to drag the idiot out of the place, but he would make a scene in the state he was in. Making a scene was against Heydan’s rules. Besides, I didn’t have the physical strength to wrestle a drunk dwarf out the door.
I lingered in the alley outside, trying to decide what to do. Nar was right that Alfheim’s henchmen had disappeared. I hadn’t seen the Wild Hunt all night. Ceridwen probably wasn’t in any mood to save his ass anyway. I debated watching out for him myself, but I had my own spies on me.
I called Rand and explained the situation. “Can you get someone to make sure he gets home alive?”
“I’ll do it myself,” he said.
“I didn’t want to ask,” I said.
He chuckled on the other end of the line. “Right. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Curious, I hung up the phone. Rand’s attitude made me wonder what he knew about me, whether Eorla confided in him. He was acting awfully familiar for someone who didn’t know me well.
I now knew what Donor and Vize were after. I knew who they were going after to find the faith stone. By keeping tabs on Veinseeker, I had a chance to contain the situation. Rand would watch the rest of the night. I would take over in the morning. Veinseeker was not going anywhere without my knowing about it.
I made my way home to a warm bed and a hot woman.
34
I jumped when Meryl bolted upright in bed. In the dim light of the living room, her dark shape appeared featureless and unmoving. “What is it?”
She threw back the covers. “We need to take a walk.”
As I was reaching for the alarm clock, we both squinted when she turned on the light. “It’s almost four A.M.”
She hopped in place getting into her jeans. “Heydan said we should go down to the bar,” she said.
I was next to her in an instant, pulling on my pants. “Is it Nar?”
“Probably. He didn’t say. He said we—you, actually—would want to be there,” she said.
I pulled on a T-shirt. “It’s Nar. I wonder why Rand didn’t call me.” She flashed me a concerned look. “What? Did Heydan say something about Rand? Is he okay?
She disappeared into the bathroom. “He didn’t say anything. I was being ominous.”
I put on my jacket and held Meryl’s while I waited for her. “Should I call Leo?”
She came out brushing her hair. “Let’s see what it is. No sense waking everyone up in the middle of the night.”
As I locked the apartment, the security wards Eorla had installed for me activated. The elven essence shimmered across the door, an odd sensation for me since I had spent so much of my life fighting the Teutonic fey. We skipped the old elevator and quick-stepped down the stairs to Sleeper Street.
At 4:00 A.M., the Weird was a perilous place. The late-night revelers had thinned, taking the protection of a large crowd with them, and the more mundane working crews had not hit the streets yet. The hard-core partiers were the only ones out, the ones who had no legal jobs to go to in the morning and the desperate still out looking for a fix or an adrenaline rush. They weren’t shy, but prone to confrontation or threat to whoever stood in their path. They sensed their own kind on some instinctual level, eyeing each other in the street, granting a wide berth on the sidewalk out of professional courtesy. It wasn’t fear. It was respect. Anyone else was fair game.
Meryl waved hello to a group of guys, who waved back with tight smiles. “What are those guys doing on this end of the street?”
I hugged her from the side as we hurried down the sidewalk and kissed her on the top of the head. “Uh . . . the neighborhood caught on fire down the other end, buildings exploded, people died, and martial law went into effect,” I said.
Her eyes widened in realization. “Oh, right. I thought a decent club opened around here I didn’t know about.”
The alley down to Yggy’s was empty, the lone light over the beat-up metal door illuminating a small pool of asphalt. The door clanked open, and someone walked off in the opposite direction toward the harbor. Rand drifted out of the shadows as we reached the entrance. “He’s still in there,” he said.
“Are you sure? We got a sending to come down,” I said.
Puzzled, Rand glanced at the door. “He hasn’t come out. Yggy’s doesn’t have a back door.”
One of Heydan’s rules was that you left through the door you came in. It cut down on games and forced the clientele to behave themselves. No one wanted to deal with the bouncers if something started. “Nar told me I’d be surprised at how close his hidey-hole was. Maybe he has some kind of arrangement with Heydan. Let’s see what’s up,” I said.
Inside, the music filled the bar more than the patrons. Liquor service was supposed to shut down at 2:00 A.M., but no cops ever bothered Heydan. Still, people tended to move on to more raucous venues after hours. Nar wasn’t in sight. We went to the back hall, where the restrooms were.
“I’ll check,” Rand said, in answer to my unspoken thought. A moment later, he emerged and shook his head.
Meryl walked toward a roped-off staircase. “Heydan said the roof.”
“I didn’t know he allowed people anywhere else in the building,” I said.
Meryl glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah, people. Not everyone.”
I followed her up the dark stairs, winding through the building. Rand brought up the rear, summoning up a light body shield. The thump of the bar faded below as we passed closed doors, each floor painted black from floor to ceiling and covered with dust. The last flight was steep, and a door to the sky stood open at the top. Outside, years of debris littered the roof, old asphalt embedded with pea gravel. Beer bottles, condoms, broken ward stones, and shattered glass created their own layer of wa
ste. In all the years I had been drinking at Yggy’s downstairs, I had no idea so much action happened on the roof.
A small addition leaned against the abutting warehouse. At one time it had served as a greenhouse, maybe a respite for whoever owned the building in the days it had harbored a sweatshop. Now, the south-facing wall was an expanse of dirty, cracked windowpanes, and the door hung askew.
The financial district shone overhead across the channel, office buildings lights on for no one. To the east, signals blinked blue and red on empty runways at Logan Airport. The roof gravel crunched beneath our feet as we walked toward a tall wooden scaffolding, part wood, part metal pipe, that supported old civil-defense horns thirty feet above the roof. The scaffolding was a remnant from World War II, when the East Coast had feared a massive invasion across the Atlantic. The invasion never came, but the horns remained, their original red paint fading over time to black-pitted maroon. Some were still used for emergencies around the city, but I never heard the ones in the Weird go off. They would probably go off constantly if they still worked.
Nar’s body swayed in the breeze from the harbor, the leather cord around his neck making a soft squeak as it rubbed against a wooden brace. His right eye had been removed, a stain of blood and viscera trailing down his cheek. A glossy round stone bulged in the socket where the eye used to be.
Meryl had to tilt her head far back as we stood beneath the body. “There are so many bad jokes running through my head right now, but instead I’ll question the wisdom of his meeting you in a bar.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Rand circled around the other side of the tower. “I failed you and apologize. My understanding was that those back stairs were warded, and no one was allowed elsewhere in the building.”
“No blame from me. That’s what I thought, too. Did you see Vize tonight?” I asked.
He shook his head. “None of the Elven King’s operatives entered while I watched.”
“Vize has a nixie companion. She can cloak him,” I said. Gretan was taller than Joe, but not by much. She might have been able to slip past Rand, but I doubted she had the ability to overwhelm a dwarf.
Uncertain Allies cg-5 Page 23