“When you shapeshift, it doesn’t include clothes,” I said.
“No, the spell just alters my physical form,” Della said. “Clothes are not included.”
“But could you include clothes?” I said. “You wouldn’t have to get dressed, then.”
The question seemed to baffle her. “But I like clothes.” She began buttoning her blouse. “This skirt cost three thousand dollars. Isn’t it flattering?”
“I…three thousand dollars?” I said. God, I don’t think I owned three thousand dollars’ worth of clothes. In the bad old days, Morvilind hadn’t bothered to pay me, so I had done all my shopping at thrift stores or discount outlets. I mean, I had some nice outfits, but spending three thousand dollars on a single piece of clothing boggled my mind.
It wasn’t even that big of a skirt. For three thousand dollars you’d think it would go past the knees.
“Mirror,” said Della as she finished getting dressed and stepped into her shoes. I wondered how much those shoes had cost and decided I would be happier in ignorance. Helen produced a mirror, and Della peered into it, turning her face to one angle and another as she fluffed her hair. “You know, Worldburner, I realize you’re dressed for your particular sort of business, but I think you could clean up nicely. A blue dress or maybe a pale purple one would offset your skin tone well, maybe combine that with some understated makeup.”
“This probably isn’t the best time to discuss fashion,” I said.
“But I like pretty things,” said Della, taking one last look in the mirror. She nodded, and Helen put it away. “Let’s go translate this document of yours, Worldburner.” Her mood changed, and her green eyes seemed to kindle with wrath. “Perhaps that shall set us upon the trail of my uncle’s murderer.”
We crossed the gallery and went back upstairs to Malthraxivorn’s office. I went to the desk and picked up the old Russian document and handed it over. Della took it and frowned, her eyes flicking over the text.
I let her read for a minute. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a page from a medical or lab report,” said Della. “You’re right, it’s dated from over two hundred years ago. It’s talking about five experimental subjects, about the conditions related to their stasis.”
“Stasis?” I said.
“It doesn’t elaborate,” said Della. “It talks about a facility in the Ural Mountains, in Chelyabinsk Oblast.”
“Where is that?” I said.
“South-central Russia,” said Della. “On the border with Kazakhstan. I guess these experimental subjects were kept in a facility there. Also, there’s a notice at the bottom of the page that this report is the property of something called Catalyst Corporation and that any unauthorized transmission is illegal, along with a great deal of legalese.”
“Catalyst Corporation?” I said. I had never heard of it.
“That sounds…vaguely familiar,” said Della, frowning. “I seem to recall hearing about it soon after my uncle and I came to Earth. There was a great deal of social upheaval among you humans at the time. Something to do with the birth rate falling. Helen, dear, see if you can look that up for me?”
“Yes, my lady,” said Helen, producing her phone. She typed into it and shook her head. “There’s a very short entry in the official online encyclopedia. It says that Catalyst Corporation was founded in Conquest Year 42, and one of the few international corporations allowed to exist at the time. It was disbanded at the order of the High Queen in Conquest Year 121. It says the corporation’s leaders were guilty of treason and crimes against humanity and executed for them.”
“That’s it?” I said.
“It is a short article,” said Helen.
“Does it say what Catalyst Corporation did?” I said. “It must have sold something.”
“Medical technology and services,” said Helen.
“Medical,” I said, surprised. I had half-expected her to say that Catalyst had been researching weapons technology or something. I had never heard of the High Queen and the Elves suppressing medical research. In fact, they encouraged it, and the Elven nobles competed to see who could sponsor the biggest hospitals. Hell, James Marney had told me a couple of times that without modern medical technology, he would have died from his wound in the Shadowlands, or he would have lost the leg. Instead, he could walk, albeit with a cane. “Did your uncle have any interest in medical technology?”
“Not that I know of,” said Della. “But he had many business interests. I didn’t know about all of them.” A melancholy look went over her face. “I suppose I shall have to familiarize myself with all of them now.”
“Medical technology,” I said again, thinking it through. “All right. Lord Malthraxivorn likes Russian art. I bet he had a lot of scouts and agents in the Russian Imperium looking for art, right? Stuff he’d be interested it.” Della nodded. I had her attention now, I could see. “One of his scouts finds something in this old Catalyst Corporation facility in the Ural Mountains, decides that Malthraxivorn would be interested in it. He sells it to your uncle, and it gets shipped here. Except Malthraxivorn doesn’t realize what he’s got, and someone kills him for it.”
Or Malthraxivorn had been plotting against the High Queen by obtaining forbidden technology. But that wasn’t something I wanted to raise with his niece.
“There are several problems with that theory,” said Della. “Namely, even if my uncle had obtained a piece of rare or forgotten technology, who would have had the power to kill him for it? And yet…I hear the truth in your words, Worldburner. I fear you have worked out part of the reason for his death.”
“There was an invoice on his desk from the Port Authority,” I said, pointing at the document. “In September, a freighter from St. Petersburg arrived with five crates for him. That lab report from Catalyst Corporation says there were five experimental subjects. That’s a hell of a coincidence.”
Della said nothing and put the lab report back on the desk. Her expression had grown troubled.
“I think our next step is to find out what was inside those five crates,” I said. I realized that I had just said “we,” but I thought I could get farther with Della’s help than I could without it. I had also come to suspect that she hadn’t killed her uncle and didn’t know who had done it. She could have been a superb liar, but I didn’t think she was lying about this.
“Yes, you are right,” murmured Della. “I remember. In September my uncle was very excited about a shipment he received. I didn’t pay much attention to it since I was busy recording for most of that month. But he thought the shipment would make him a lot of money.”
“Is it here in the art gallery?” I said. “Or somewhere in the building?”
“I do not think so,” said Della. “Likely it is at his warehouse in Brooklyn. The art gallery holds many artworks, but my uncle owns far more than can be readily displayed. The rest is stored at the Brooklyn warehouse.”
“Then I think I had better go there and take a look,” I said.
“And I shall come with you,” said Della.
I thought it might be better to go alone. I could look over the warehouse without preconceptions, and maybe find those five crates that might have led to Malthraxivorn’s death. Della could have things she would want to hide inside the warehouse, things that I needed to know. Then again, I was willing to gamble that she hadn’t been the one to kill her uncle. And her help would be useful. It would be convenient if she could just let me inside and disable all the alarms.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go right now.”
***
Chapter 10: Machine Parts
I wanted to go to Max Sarkany’s warehouse at once, but there was some logistical stuff to do first.
For one thing, I didn’t want to leave my bike on the street for that long. Della said I could put it in the building’s underground parking, and she gave me a keycard. I collected my bike and stashed it and my helmet in the secured parking, though I kept my backpack and its tool
s with me.
While I did that, Della changed into clothing more suitable for surreptitious investigation.
At least, into was she thought was clothing more suitable.
I returned to the lobby and found Della, Helen, and Shawn waiting for me. Shawn and Helen still wore their suits. Della, however, had changed to snug black jeans, high-heeled black boots, and a hooded gray sweatshirt. I was willing to be that I had paid less for a few of my cars than she had spent upon her outfit. She had also donned a pair of sunglasses and a blue ball cap adorned with the logo of New York’s football team (or baseball, I get the two mixed up). She did look striking, but this was the important part – she wasn’t immediately recognizable as Della Sarkany, famous singer, unless you got right in her face.
“Ready?” I said.
“Of course,” said Della. “This way. Helen will drive.”
She strode towards the elevator, and Shawn, Helen, and I followed. I wondered if Shawn and Helen ever got days off. We took the elevator to the subterranean parking levels, and Della walked towards an expensive-looking Royal Motors SUV. Helen took the driver’s seat, Shawn the front passenger spot, and Della and I got in the back.
So. I was going on a road trip with a dragon. That was new.
Music started playing over the speakers as Helen steered out of the parking ramp and into traffic, and I recognized Della’s voice singing a song accompanied by guitars and kettle drums.
“Do you usually listen to your own songs?” I said.
“Of course,” said Della. “How else shall I achieve excellence?” Her expression grew distant. “My next album shall be in honor of my uncle. One of sorrow and loss, and singing of grief.”
I shifted a little, and I felt a twinge of guilt. “Um. I am sorry for your loss. I can see your uncle meant a great deal to you.”
“Thank you,” murmured Della, and she stared out the window, watching the streets of Manhattan go by. “It is strange. Dragons live so much longer than humans or Elves. We are stronger and more powerful. And yet…we are all made equals by grief, are we not? Long-lived we may be, but we are still not immortal. Death makes equals of us all in the end.”
“I suppose it does,” I said.
“Have you lost someone you loved, Worldburner?” said Della, still gazing out the window.
I shifted again. “Ah…my parents. They died when I was young. A very long time ago.”
Della turned her head to look at me, the green eyes keen. “Did they? I am sorry. Mine did as well. It is different for us. Dragon hatchlings are born with the ability to speak our language, and we are not as helpless as human newborns. Yet I do miss my mother and father. But we…wait.” She lifted her hand. I looked around, wondering if something was wrong, and then I realized she wanted to listen to herself singing over the SUV’s speakers. Her voice rolled to a crescendo, accompanied by the rattle of the drums and the riffs of the guitars, and I had to admit it sounded good. “There we go. That was…four years ago? Yes, four years. I still like that song. What are your preferred kinds of music, Worldburner?”
“Um,” I said, unsure of how to answer that question.
“I have sampled all the musical styles developed by humans,” said Della. “I was quite fond of opera at first, and still am, but I have since expanded my tastes. Before the Conquest, I think the Russians and the Germans had the best music. They had Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, after all. After the Conquest, I would say the French, the Americans, and the Kenyans have the best music. And the last three centuries of Korean music have been exquisite.”
She looked at me, and I realized that she was waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t really listen to music,” I said.
Della blinked. “You don’t?” She looked as if I had just admitted that I never bathed. “How dreadfully impoverished your inner life must be. What do you do for recreation and enrichment?”
“I work out a lot.”
Della snorted. “That’s maintenance, not relaxation.”
I shrugged. “If you look at it that way, I never really relax.”
“Hmm.” She leaned back in her seat and considered me, and I felt the full weight of those green eyes. I had never really had her entire attention before. Yeah, she had tried to kill me, and then I had questioned her, but she had mostly been thinking about her uncle. But I had admitted that I really didn’t listen to music, and that had gotten her full attention.
I could almost feel that powerful mind considering me.
“Interesting,” said Della. “You are an anomaly, aren’t you? But my uncle said the High Queen likes to recruit anomalies.”
With that, she began talking about her opinions on music theory as we left Manhattan and took the tunnel under the bay into Brooklyn. Della kept talking as we headed south along the Gowanus Expressway. At last Helen turned off near the South Brooklyn Marine terminal, and we drove through a neighborhood of warehouses and industrial businesses.
“Helen,” said Della. “Stop here.” Helen obediently pulled into an empty spot behind a pickup truck. “The Worldburner and I will proceed on foot. There are things in my uncle’s warehouse that can only be seen by our blood.” She turned a sardonic smile in my direction. “Or by one of the High Queen’s agents, it seems.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Helen.
“Should I accompany you?” said Shawn, frowning with concern.
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Della. “I doubt I will be recognized, and the Worldburner and I can defend ourselves. Wait here until we return.”
“My lady,” said Helen.
Della and I got out of the SUV, and I slid into the straps of my backpack. The sidewalk here was old and cracked, and warehouses stood on either side of the street. It was still gray and overcast, and the air smelled faintly of rotting fish since we were close to the bay.
“This way,” said Della, and she gestured. We walked side by side. I had to hurry a little to keep up since her legs were so much longer than mine, which wasn’t annoying or anything. “They think I don’t know they’re sleeping together.”
“Sorry, who?”
“Shawn and Helen,” said Della with serene calm. “They’ve been quite professional about it, but they cannot hide it from me. When humans mate, their entire scent changes. Something to do with hormones, I expect. Though if they wed and reproduce, perhaps their children will one day serve me as retainers. My uncle always said it is wise to keep such things in the family.”
“How far to the warehouse?” I said, not wanting to discuss the romantic entanglements of Della’s retainers.
“Not far,” said Della. “Only a few blocks. Oh, I figured out what was wrong with you.”
I sighed. “This should be enlightening.”
“At some point, you were damaged by time magic.”
I faltered a step, and then kept going. “Time magic.”
“Yes, the Elves are quite fond of using their magic to warp the flow of time,” said Della. “Well, less so now. The High Queen restricted the practice among them. But they used to punish criminals by locking them in time loops, forcing them to relive the same day over and over again. That’s what happened to you, isn’t it? A device called the…ah, what was it? The Endless Chamber? The…”
“Eternity Crucible,” I said, my heart thundering in my ears. “They call it an Eternity Crucible.” I was angry with myself. Della had only mentioned the topic. I shouldn’t freak out about it.
But I hated, hated talking about the Eternity Crucible.
“How long were you inside one?” said Della.
I almost told her to go to hell, but I stopped myself. “About a hundred and fifty-eight years. It…if I hadn’t, a lot of people would have died. I wouldn’t have been able to stop New York from getting nuked during the battle. So, it was worth it.” I grinned that mirthless grin I had. “At least that’s what I tell myself. It helps. Sometimes.”
I expected Della to talk some more, or to make a comparison to
music.
“I’m sorry,” she said instead.
I blinked.
“That was cruel, to put you in an Eternity Crucible,” said Della. “The human mind is not equipped for such things. For an Elf, and Eternity Crucible would be a trial. For a dragon, it would only be irritating. But for a human…yes, that would be very cruel.”
I opened my mouth, closed it.
“Thanks,” I said at last.
“I do not care for cruelty,” said Della. “I much prefer to create music and beauty.” She sighed. “But it seems that cruelty is the way of the cosmos. I saw that on Bel-Thunezad.”
“Who lived on that world?” I said, hoping to change the topic from me. “Orcs?”
“No,” said Della. “They called themselves the xortami, but I suppose humans would name them lizardmen. They had an ancient and prosperous civilization. But a cult to the Dark Ones arose among them, and they destroyed themselves and laid their world waste. My parents died in the fighting, and so my uncle brought us here.” She sighed. “Are you alone in the world? It would be a shame if you were. I did smell the scent of a mate upon you, but…”
“My husband,” I admitted. “I…don’t think I would be alive without his help. I mean, it’s not like I’m helpless without him. But…I’m really glad he’s with me. And I would be dead if he hadn’t saved my life a few times.”
“Mmm,” said Della. “An interesting prospect. What sort of man would be a suitable mate for the Worldburner? An intriguing question. But one we can consider later. We are almost to the warehouse.”
We went around a corner and turned onto a street fronting on the bay. The smell of rotting fish was stronger here. The street headed north, and a steel guardrail ran along its western side. Beyond that was a seawall, and then the bay. Della pointed, and I saw a large four-story building of red brick overlooking the road and the sidewalk. All the windows had been bricked up, and the only entrance was a pair of massive steel doors.
A man sat slumped against the warehouse wall, smoking a cigarette.
Something about him set off warning bells in my head.
Cloak of Dragons Page 17