by Scott Duff
The Indian continent followed next, about fifteen groups with roughly fifty people total. It was interesting to watch them parade through. I didn’t know much about the various Hindu sects, but some of their foci were ambiguously strong, wavering on the astral field between nothing and highly powerful. They had several spirits sneaking peeks through portals they carried with them, but I could feel MacNamara’s power keeping those portals just short of opening enough for them to enter. It was like a faint brush of clear enamel over the hole, sealing it shut. I followed Kieran and Peter’s conversation about them peripherally, but my attention was waning until Peter tapped the arm of my chair.
“The Russians are coming up next,” he said, staring down at the field. “They still hold the Slavic council after the Soviet Union fell apart. Sergei Bogdonovich was on Colbert’s list. He’s the one in the silver furs, looks a little like Lenin.” Eight men took the dais as the golden robed elf announced them in their native Russian, naming only one by name.
“Who is in charge?” I asked Peter.
“Oh, here,” he said, handing me a long green stone that looked like amethyst, tied to a leather thong. He had one around his neck, and when I looked so did Kieran and Ethan. “This’ll translate for you. I forgot about that. The lead is the man in the silver fur, purely a figurehead at this point, from what I hear. The real head is supposed to be the guy in the black cloth coat behind him. Nobody knows his name so he’s referred to as Dmitri. No idea why, though.”
“Because that’s his name,” said Kieran. “Dmitri Bogdonovich. He’s Sergei’s younger brother.”
“Dad’ll be happy to know that,” Peter said, nodding at the information.
“Nah. Just means there’s another behind the power in the Slavic council,” said Kieran, gruffly. “Dmitri’s a hack. There’s no way he’s controlling the Persians. He isn’t a strong enough personality.”
“That could be the cause for the constant fighting over there, I suppose,” admitted Peter. I really needed to be paying attention here. Peter was being a huge source of information and so was Kieran. I was getting an education on foreign affairs that I didn’t even know existed and I was watching how traffic was flowing in the aisles two hundred feet away.
The European Council hit the stage and a roar went through the Arena like none before them. In front of us, green plating flickered to life like thick Plexiglas, deadening the sound to acceptable levels. Twenty men in black gi lined the platform with military precision, bowing to the crowd at the waist quickly, then bounding over the sides in perfect synchronization, streaming bright red flows of energy as they fell to the next level. Twenty men took their places on the top, firing a blaze of blue fire into the air around them, not quite reaching the stands. The crowd went wild at the display. The golden clad elf allowed time for the Arena to calm before announcing the triumvirate leadership of the council, two men and a woman. It took a few moments for the podium to clear.
“You should pay attention to that group, Seth,” said Peter. “The woman, Lady Genieveve, was said to have once believed she was the Genieveve. I don’t know how true that is, but by reputation she’s slick as the devil and about as powerful, though she doesn’t get around much anymore. The shorter and older man is Felix Cahill, only appointed in the last few years. Don’t know the circumstances, but they’re usually shady. The other man is Louis Marchand. He’s the most stable and even of the group. Of course, the ones you actually have to watch out for are the ones who work for them. They aren’t up there.”
The Arena rolled with the sound of timpani drums then burst into Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever, signaling the arrival of the United States council. Fireworks flamed into sight from each corner of the three tiered building and formed into giant eagles flying through the air with US flags waving in their talons. Men flooded each tier in military dress carrying military weapons, most of which would be of little use in a magical fight. The display was very patriotic. I leaned in and was immediately reminded of the Arena’s weird perspective.
“I wonder if any one of those men know how many of the guns are German manufactured,” I asked, off-hand.
Peter snorted out a laugh, nodding as he watched the US dignitaries take the stage behind the fading eagles.
“Didn’t you threaten to kill that man the next time you saw him, Seth?” asked Ethan from the railing, grinning big and nodding back to the dais.
I looked down to see Clifford Harris moving to a corner of the platform. He wore a white gi with silver and gold trim. He presented a fiery appearance, but I knew the bluster for what it was, more spark than fire.
“I think I’ve lost my taste for that,” I said dryly.
“I am certainly glad to hear that,” said a new voice, from the gate. MacNamara stood at the gate with his two pale blue shadows looking across at us pleasantly. The green sound shielding around us bent around them to accommodate them and surrounded the entire balcony. We all stood to greet him with Kieran stepping forward.
“May I come in?” he asked, smiling a dazzlingly bright smile.
Ethan moved immediately to open the gate even as Kieran said, “Please do, MacNamara, it is an honor.”
I darted to the corner for the unused chair then didn’t know where to put it. The balcony seemed to have grown in length, but where would the other two elves need to sit, behind him? Do I just set them down and let them move them around? I was red-faced when I looked up at Kieran in confusion, twittering in place. Ethan stood behind MacNamara silently snickering at me. Now instead of his customary white suit, he wore a beautiful silk weave of many colors in a circular pattern, ranging from the deepest indigo in the center of his body outward to both sides to strips of white. It created an almost psychedelic effect when he moved. The two shadows were dressed in the customary white suits and stayed by the door. Apparently, speaking for himself was becoming more prevalent.
“Just put it down,” whispered Peter, stifling a laugh. MacNamara was smiling, but I couldn’t tell if that was greeting or giggling. I just stared at the floor and willed my face to burn off. It didn’t work but I felt like it was on fire all the same.
“We appreciate the use of this fine apartment, your Grace,” said Kieran, fluidly. Then he said something in another language, four or five words—it was hard to separate. Down in my cavern the Pact translated literally for me: We appreciate your clean bathwater. That felt very odd. The Pact translating something. Why didn’t it translate other Elvish for me? MacNamara said two words. Again, I got a translation: Safe passage. His aura mirrored the power fountain behind him, but flared briefly with amusement and surprise at Kieran’s words.
“Please, Master McClure,” MacNamara said, “Be seated. I cannot stay long. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Most certainly, your Grace,” responded Kieran.
“I just wanted to stop by and commend you,” he said, his two-colored eyes dancing over the four of us, leaving no doubt who he was looking at. “In a single day, you and your apprentices have turned into the most entertaining distractions I’ve had in years. You wouldn’t believe the favors that were pulled to get to me today—three of them are out there now—and you’ve gotten my attention barely trying.” He waved toward the stage as he sat fluidly into the chair next to the table looking out. I still didn’t know what to do so I stood back against the wall and watched. Either Peter didn’t know either, or he didn’t want to embarrass the crap outta me twice.
“Do sit down, boys,” said MacNamara, sweetly. “I haven’t spoken in decades and I’d like to indulge myself when I can.” Peter and I both smiled politely and took a seat. Peter was much more at ease than I was. Like it or not, I was going to have to do this at one time or another. Like in those black and white westerns on television, I was gonna have to look the black-hatted bad-guy in the eye sometime. I looked into MacNamara’s sky-blue eyes rimmed in the glory of sunrise orange and I watched the glory of a king of the Shining Ones unfold before me. I tried very hard to control my reactions, not kn
owing what this elf could perceive. He was strongly tied to his environment. By need or by choice, it wasn’t clear. Peter couldn’t see our auras, but Ethan could, barely. What would the elf see?
All I could see in MacNamara now was intense curiosity, eagerness, and anticipation. And huge gaps currently being flooded with energy. It was no wonder he was in a good mood. If he had a limbic system, he was probably in pleasure overload.
“You, Ehran, are the only person of your party that I actually know,” said MacNamara leaning in on an elbow. “And yet your family name has come up in the most interesting places a full day before you showed up on my doorstep. Harris, for instance, petitioned me yesterday for information on Seth McClure. He even claimed to have information on a stolen elven artifact in exchange for information. I assumed I would have known of anything of real importance and what would I find the very next day? Not one but five valuable artifacts had indeed been stolen from their elven keepers. Ownership has been taken, I believe were your words.” He smiled serenely.
“Conclusions can be drawn or verification sought, but I had already responded to Harris that I had no knowledge of Seth McClure nor do I currently.” He looked directly at me as he said this, pinning me to my chair. I hope I didn’t squirm too badly. “Erickson, the portly man in the thinning blond hair, asked several wardens for information about a Kieran McClure. Now, I am familiar with the sons of Robert McClure to know there is no Kieran McClure. Perhaps one of his older sons’ children?”
“I don’t think believe any of my brothers have children by that name,” said Kieran, absent-mindedly. “The only Kieran I know is more of a religious title, like ‘teacher,’ than a name.”
“Ah,” he said, in perfect understanding, just not exactly saying the words. “Now why would those two be after Kieran McClure and an unknown blond accomplice? Do you mind if I block the blowhard’s speech? I’ve heard it before dozens of times.” He waved a hand toward the dais where a stout man in a tuxedo approached the golden robed elf with sheaves of index cards in his hands. “He only has three minutes, but still, it is repetitive.” He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs before him completely casually. It struck me as being very human and out of place on him.
“Now, only Harris further requested information on Robert and Olivia McClure. I thought this odd because I have it from good authority that he knows exactly where Olivia is and where Robert went.” He turned a little to face Kieran when he said that. He saw Kieran stiffen slightly, but I wasn’t sure of my reaction. My whole world tunneled in on those words: Harris knew where Robert and Olivia went. He lied. MacNamara was still talking; I had to pay attention.
“…most excellent rumors traveling around about Kieran’s escape from Harris’ custody. Harris is making fantastic claims about his embarrassment and denying vehemently that it could have been Seth McClure responsible for such an outrageous defeat. After all, it is widely believed that Robert and Olivia’s offspring was a null and had not been trained in any way.”
“A null?” I asked before I could catch myself.
“Someone magically blind,” said MacNamara to me, cheerfully. “Defective, though he appeared perfectly normal in every aspect.” He glanced at each of the four of us in turn, quickly. “Unlike the four of you. Only one of you appears normal and I find that quite interesting, indeed.
“Ah, the North American Consortium is taking the stage now,” he said, looking into the Arena as Harris’ group stepped down a stairway. Just as the last man took the first step on the stairs, more pyro flared from the corners. Color flashed and swirled to life and started turning in circles through the Arena, gathering together as it went. On its third circuit, each color banked up and locked into place on a side, forming national flags, one each for Canada, Mexico, and the United States. The flags began circling the dais, getting closer until the edges where locked together. Underneath stood twenty or so men on the top level, but hundreds of men lined the parapets of the next two, Meso-American and Hispanic mostly, with white and black mixed in as well. Not as flashy as the US council’s display, but this group had a much darker energy flow to it, a more ‘survival of the fittest’ feel to the energy.
“I received two inquiries from that group as well,” MacNamara said coyly, again waving indirectly at the dais. “One seems unrelated, though. Adu, the tall Aztec on the south corner, paid handsomely for information about a ‘kovel’ that had recently come to his world. All of my resources came up dry on that. St. Croix, though, asked directly about the whereabouts of his grandson, Seth, and Robert, his son-in-law. Since both those answers are unknown to me at that moment, I had to send him away the poorer for asking.”
I spied my grandfather on the top tier. Once again, my world tunneled in for a moment, centering on him. The Arena perspective brought me in very close. He didn’t look much different from the last time I saw him or from the pictures in the papers. I’d not seen him this clearly or deeply, and my See in Truth enhanced vision showed me details that I’d missed before. Emotionally he was in too many places to try to figure out. Later, when I was standing in front of him, I’d work on that. He wore a linen suit with a cream-colored shirt, tie, and matching shoes. His demeanor was calm as he looked out at the thousands of screaming people. Something wavered at the top of his aura and I focused on it. This time the Arena’s perspective didn’t help me—whatever it was sitting on his aura was too far away for me to see clearly, but it felt familiar. The urge to visit grandpappy got a whole lot stronger. I turned back to Kieran and MacNamara to find him looking at me again, searching for something.
He sighed softly and turned back to Kieran cheerfully. “And this is still not the most intriguing business relating to you to happen today. Before speaking with you, I was approached by both of the Bitches, separately, asking me to allow them to perform a Seeking during the Games.”
“No!” said Kieran, pulling the word down softly and with a scandalized look on his face, but his eyes twinkled brightly, playfully. I might have wondered who was playing with whom, but I think Kieran knew he didn’t stand a chance.
“Oh, yes,” MacNamara confirmed. “In my realm. The gall. Of course, I denied them immediately, just as they would me. Then they committed the most exquisitely unusual of acts, one I’ve seen only once in the past. They came to me together and asked for the same thing. And with the most amazing coincidence at the very moment they were offering payment, I was called upon to adjudicate a breaking of my peace. Neither Bitch wants to tell me what they’re searching for, exactly, just that ‘it’ belongs to her and she wants ‘it’ back, their lips being much tighter than their knees. Curiosity was burning through me about who could take something from the two of them that they treasured so dearly that they came to me begging favors. If they were looking for the Swords, surely all they have to do is sit back and watch. Then they would have the two culprits and take them outside of my realm at their leisure. So they must be concerned about something I do not see yet. Do you know of any concerns they may have, Ehran McClure?”
Kieran’s face showed thoughtfulness but his aura was turbulent emotionally. MacNamara’s speech was potent with innuendo, I knew, but I didn’t understand all of it.
“Only what I’ve already said,” Kieran said. “They underused the Black Hand and got slapped in the face for it. It was not an attack on them, but a defense against the Black Hand.”
Another smile curled up the elf’s face and he turned to me, the fiery orange in his eye shined bright. “Just like earlier today. Was it you, boy? Did you take the Black Hand’s weapons from their burning corpses?”
“No, sir, I did not,” I said, fearfully but truthfully. I could feel him probing into space, ever so lightly. He was trying to look into me, into my soul, but he couldn’t find me. I kept an innocent look on my face, fairly easily since I was innocent of killing them. That’d been Kieran.
“How did you disrupt your attacker’s spell this afternoon?” he asked.
“I don�
��t know that I did, sir,” I answered. “I was just trying to stay out of his way.”
“Marvelous,” he whispered, then asked Kieran, “Do you have any objections to my allowing the Bitches their little games, then, Ehran?”
“I can think of none, your Grace,” Kieran said, nodding politely.
“Then this day may end with a few more firsts,” he said, standing. He walked to the gate where his shadows moved instantly to attention, opening the gate and stepping out, waiting for him. The sound screen once more bowed out for them. He turned to us once more as the gate closed.
“One more thing before I leave,” he said, still with the huge smile and dancing two colored eyes. “Once the challenges are announced, I will be holding a late supper involving many of the people I pointed out this evening. If you and your apprentices aren’t too tired, I would adore it if you’d make an appearance, though I do realize your current goals may preclude being so public at the moment. I will not take offense should you decide to decline.” Once more, he seemed to evaporate into space. It was quite an interesting method of departure.
“Your Grace,” Kieran said to the empty space. He stared at that space for a long minute.
“What do we do now?” I asked quietly.
“Run?” offered Ethan.
“Panic,” said Peter.
Kieran sighed. “We wait,” he said.
Chapter 16
The Arena went dark except for the fountain. Every light source in the coliseum blacked out, leaving the seething power lines shining brightly in the center of the Arena overwhelming the starscape above it. The dais vanished as the power lines began to strobe slowly as if someone was pinching off the flow in a water hose then releasing it. A slow basso hum began soon after. The strobing got faster and with it, the pitch of the sound got higher. Slowly from the ground in front of the fountain, an elven woman of pure ivory rose from the ground with no visible support, singing breathlessly, following the tune of the fountain wordlessly. Her beauty was breathtaking. I watched her rise and writhe through the power of the fountain until her song started forming words. Slowly, I realized she was naming MacNamara in his own tongue. Telling a story. Calling to him.