The Book of Lies
Page 19
More custodians, men and women I didn’t know, joined us until all eight seats at our table were filled. Lucia, of course, knew all of them, and introduced me. It was pointless, because I was too keyed up to remember my own name, let alone those of five strangers. I smiled politely and answered questions about Abernathy’s, but mostly I listened. It was sort of fascinating, the kinds of troubles Neutralities had. I watched Lucia butter a roll and speak animatedly to a woman across the table from her and wondered if she ever felt lonely. The node custodians probably talked to each other all the time, not just at the Conference, but it couldn’t be the same as meeting in person.
I leaned back for the server to set the main course in front of me, herb-crusted salmon, pan-fried and oven-finished, on a bed of rice pilaf with a side of broccolini, and inhaled the delicious aroma. Sometimes I really loved living in the Pacific Northwest.
“So does anyone know what happened to the magi responsible for screwing up the wards?” Akins asked. “Lucia?”
“What, you think because they came from my Neutrality I’d have any idea about them?”
“Well, yes. That’s exactly what I think.”
Lucia took a large bite of salmon, I thought to give herself time to answer, though I couldn’t imagine why she’d need it. “The Board called them in around five o’clock this morning, one at a time. They were gone for about half an hour each and none of them would say what they’d been asked when they returned.”
“That sounds odd,” I said.
“I’d already reamed them out before that, so to me it just looked like PTSD.”
Lucia didn’t meet my eyes. I knew her well enough to know when she wasn’t being forthcoming, and knew, too, that she wasn’t likely to be truthful until I got her alone. So I just said, “You’re probably right. Did you fire them?”
“Of course I fired them. They were indirectly responsible for almost thirty deaths.”
“That seems a little harsh,” said the woman opposite Lucia.
“I expect my people to think of the worst possible scenario and plan for it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that if familiars are breaking free, they need to be treated like regular invaders. Well, those four geniuses are going to have to find new employment, because my Neutrality doesn’t need them.”
“I’m with you,” Akins said. “I’m surprised the Board didn’t impose stricter sanctions on you. They blamed Ewan Campbell for the security failure, after all.”
“They tried,” Lucia said grimly. “I convinced them to get their heads out of their—”
“May I offer you dessert?” the server said. “We have a choice of three offerings tonight.”
“What’s the house specialty?” I said. This was something my father had taught me to ask.
The server smiled. “We are famous for our carrot cake,” he said. He had a look that said he didn’t expect me to go for it. Well, I already knew carrot cake wasn’t as popular as in my opinion it should be.
“That’s my favorite,” I said. “I’ll have that.”
“Carrot cake?” Lucia said, making a face. “I’ll have more of that key lime pie.”
“This is what my father always says,” I said. “Restaurants, including hotels, generally have something they’re famous for. And sometimes it’s not the best thing on the menu. But when it is, it’s so far beyond everything else you wonder why anyone bothers with the other stuff. And carrot cake happens to actually be my favorite. So I’ll chance it.”
I sipped my dessert coffee and let its heat relax me, though probably I’d regret the caffeine in half an hour, when the business meeting was in full swing. I caught Claude’s eye—he was seated at the table next to me—and smiled at him. He smiled back, but looked preoccupied, and I wished I was close enough to ask him what he was thinking. A few tables over, Nimisha and Vijay were carrying on a heated conversation I could hear from where I was, though since they weren’t speaking English, it was all so much babble to me. I hoped they weren’t about to start a fist fight.
The server set down my carrot cake. It came in a wide glass, not a plate, with a drizzle of caramel across it and pearly crystalline salt around the rim, like the pastry chef and the bartender had fought over the right of presentation. The tangy scent of cream cheese frosting reached my nose, and I sighed in contentment. It only had to be half as good as that smell to be the best carrot cake ever.
“Well? Is it worth it?” Lucia said. “Stop sniffing it and take a bite already.” She was already forking frozen key lime pie into her mouth faster than was really healthy. There was no way she could appreciate it at that speed.
I took a bite. “Oh,” I said. “Oh. This is amazing.” Just moist enough, with the spices blended through the cake and the frosting not overwhelming it. The golden raisins were little explosions of fruitiness in my mouth. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“I hate carrots.”
“Carrot cake only tastes like carrots if you’re doing something wrong.” I took another bite. “I may come here just for the dessert sometime.”
“With a special friend?” Lucia arched an eyebrow at me. If she thought I was going to out myself in front of a table full of custodians, she was crazy. I smiled sweetly and kept eating.
I was almost finished when Laverne Stirlaugson took her place at the podium, carrying a tablet. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your supper,” she said. “If I can have your attention, we’ll begin the business portion of the evening.” She didn’t look like she intended to wait on us. I took one last bite, scraped up a smear of frosting and licked it off my finger, then laid down my fork and prepared myself for whatever might come.
“Once again, we mourn the loss of our friends, and salute them for their service to magery over the years,” Stirlaugson said. She pulled out a pair of reading glasses and settled them on her nose. “Due to their diligence and responsibility, their successors are already in place at their Neutralities. For your information, I will read to you the list of new custodians. Hannah Warren, the Belvedere Node, Knoxville, Tennessee, United States of America; Stephen Sun, Ch’en Node, Hong Kong; Benedetto D’onofrio, Cracchiolo Node, Tuscany, Italy….”
The list went on. I tried to pay attention, but then Stirlaugson said, “Andrei Vaduva, Ionescu Node, Romania,” and it startled me so much I lost track of what she was saying. Elisabeta’s husband was her successor? I couldn’t begin to imagine what that would feel like, surrounded every day by reminders of the wife he’d lost. I searched the room for Carlos and couldn’t see him. It might be so awkward three years from now, when Andrei and Carlos met as colleagues who’d loved the same woman. I hoped for both their sakes they could find common ground.
Stirlaugson came to the end of her recitation and tapped something on the tablet in front of her. “We now have some business matters to attend to. Regardless of your feelings about the Board’s decisions, we ask that you restrain yourselves from displaying extreme emotion when our conclusions are made public. First, a more cheerful matter: a node near Wichita, Kansas, United States of America has grown to the status of a Neutrality. Karen Burns will be its custodian.”
A ripple of conversation passed through the room. It did feel cheerful, and even Lucia, whose normal expression was a sardonic quirk of the lips, was smiling. Stirlaugson waited a few seconds before continuing. “This is unfortunately balanced by the temporary closing of the Hernandes Node in Mexico. Internecine conflict has grown to a point that both Nicolliens and Ambrosites fail to respect the status of the Neutrality. The Board will send word when the ban is lifted. Until that time, Ana Ruiz is no longer a custodian.”
The room was perfectly silent. Somebody sneezed, another person said “God bless you,” and silence descended once more. I looked around for Ruiz, but couldn’t see her either. At least no one was escorting her out of the room. My heart ached for her, what little I’d known of her. It made me angry that the Board wouldn’t intervene…though maybe this was how they intervened. It wasn’
t as if I understood how they worked. I’d said it myself: they saw what was necessary for Neutralities as a whole. But it still made me mad on Ruiz’s behalf.
I’d missed Stirlaugson’s next statement in my distraction, but whatever it was didn’t cause much stir. “Thank you for your cooperation,” Stirlaugson said, and I leaned over to ask Lucia what we were cooperating about and was it something I needed to worry about.
“The Board has received an interesting proposal,” Stirlaugson said, “regarding the Neutrality known as Abernathy’s. Specifically, this proposal requests that we relocate the oracle to its original home in Charing Cross Road, London, England.”
I sat upright immediately. Everyone was staring at me, and I flushed until my cheeks had to be as pink as my dress. I had eyes only for Stirlaugson, who was expressionless. Please, I thought, willing her to hear, please see sense.
Stirlaugson stared at me a moment longer. Then she looked away, and I felt as if I’d been released from some tremendous pressure. “The Board has decided Abernathy’s…will remain in Portland, Oregon.”
All the blood drained from my face before I registered I’d won. Then I couldn’t stop smiling. Lucia didn’t look at me, but she squeezed my knee under the table. Whispers went around the room again, with everyone at my table quietly congratulating me, though a couple of them looked like they weren’t sure congratulations were in order. I guess, if they didn’t know the details, it was just as likely that I’d petitioned for the move and been turned down. Not that anyone who could see my smile would believe that. Once again I felt as if a pressure had been lifted from me. I didn’t bother looking for Greenough. I didn’t need to rub it in. Lucia would no doubt do that for both of us.
Once again I missed what Stirlaugson said—something about new rules for the use of sanguinis sapiens collected from the nodes, and irrelevant to me, but it caused a bigger ruckus than any of the other decisions so far. Stirlaugson waited patiently for the commotion to cease, then said, “If you have any questions regarding our ruling, I encourage you to take it up with a Board member.” Her tone of voice indicated that nobody had better question the ruling. Silence fell, broken only by the sound of a fork tinging against china.
“Our next decision will affect all the Neutralities to one degree or another,” Stirlaugson said. “Some of you have already encountered increased tensions between the factions, in some cases tensions leading to verbal or even physical conflict. A few Neutralities have chosen to implement policies dictating times at which each faction may use the Neutrality, separating the factions to eliminate contact between them and therefore reduce conflict. The Board has heard from several custodians on both sides of the subject, some in favor of it and some rejecting it, and has made a decision.
“The Board’s ruling is to incorporate this division into the Accords. Beginning this coming Monday, all Neutralities will implement a policy of separation of factions.”
The murmur that went up was just short of explosive. It immediately dispelled my happy glow. Make the division permanent? I wanted to stand and shout at Stirlaugson, but she was staring at me again, her eyes hard and cold and daring me to make a scene. I clasped my trembling hands in front of me and focused on the empty glass that had held my dessert. Now there was virtually no chance of Ambrosite and Nicollien making common cause. I’d almost have been willing to move to London if it meant not having to enforce that policy.
“Silence,” Stirlaugson said, and such was the force of her presence that everyone shut up. “I know many of you disagree with this decision. I remind you that you are under oath to uphold the Accords, whatever your personal feelings might be. It is the judgment of this Board—” she widened her glare to encompass the room—“that reducing contact between the factions will allow each to focus on the true goal, which is winning the Long War. A goal, I also remind you, that every one of you shares despite being non-magi. We leave the implementation of the policy up to you. If you need help, the Board stands ready to assist you.” This time she sounded sincere, but I was still pissed off enough to wish she’d fall into a deep hole somewhere.
“Now, our final matter of business is a change in Board policy,” Stirlaugson said. “The Board is concerned about implementation of the Accords in the daily business of the Neutralities. In the coming months, Board members will visit each node and named Neutrality for a thorough review of your business. Don’t take this as a criticism; we intend only to clarify certain aspects of the Accords as they apply to practical matters. We hope you will take this opportunity to work with us to make your Neutralities the best and most effective they can be.”
Lucia whispered, “Oh, yeah, that’s not a witch hunt at all.”
I was the only one who heard her. “You really think so?”
“‘Thorough review’? ‘Implementation of the Accords’? They’re looking for reasons to come down on us, I guarantee it.” Lucia leaned a little closer to me. “You’d better be careful not to let them find you stepping outside the line at all.”
“I…don’t know what you mean.”
Lucia snorted and sat back. “Of course not.”
Stirlaugson said, “Thank you, and enjoy your evening,” and sat down to unenthusiastic applause. I clapped absently, my eyes on Lucia. She either knew about Malcolm, or was a really good guesser, but I didn’t think I should confirm her guess, in case she needed plausible deniability or something. I remembered being stared at by all nine members of the Board, how little they cared about me personally, even Chukwu and Ragsdale. If they found out about Malcolm, it wouldn’t matter that I’d saved the oracle twice; I’d be in violation of the Accords and subject to punishment. Or maybe it would matter, and saving the oracle would be enough to simply get me fired instead of executed.
I should break it off, I thought, and pain gripped my heart so powerfully I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Losing Malcolm was unthinkable. But I had a duty…a duty I was convinced I could perform regardless of the rules. I’d just have to make sure they never, ever found out. And what happens a year from now? Two years? How long do you think you can keep this relationship secret? I realized I had my napkin wadded in a ball in my right hand and let it fall, hopelessly wrinkled, to my lap. I couldn’t think about this now.
Lucia was pushing back her chair and straightening her dress, which on her looked rumpled even though it was perfectly tidy. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “I don’t feel like socializing.”
“I have to check out early, to get back to the store. Isn’t it a little early for sleep, though?”
Lucia gave me her familiar smile. “I don’t intend to sleep,” she said. “Maxwell and Henry are waiting for me.”
I gulped. “Um…Maxwell and Henry? I, uh, always thought it was or.”
Lucia patted my cheek, which was flaming hot again. “Don’t get conventional all of a sudden, you’ll rupture something,” she said, and sailed out the door.
I realized I was the only one left at the table and rose, then bent to pick up my crushed napkin and set it on my plate. When I straightened, Ragsdale was there. I squeaked, and he smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. Thank you for choosing to keep Abernathy’s here.”
“I shouldn’t tell you, but it was a nearly unanimous decision. You can probably guess who was the lone holdout—but don’t, please, because I really can’t confirm or deny your guess.”
“I won’t. And I don’t hold it against whoever it was. There were good reasons on the other side.”
“Very sensible attitude. I wanted to warn you that we’ll be holding your review tomorrow, immediately after the store’s closing at two.”
“My review? But—oh, you mean what Ms. Stirlaugson announced.” I tried to make my smile look normal and not a fear-induced rictus. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be ready. Um…can you tell me what you’ll be looking for?”
“We’ll let you know when we arrive. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’
re doing everything right.”
Guilt struck me. Here was this nice man who seemed genuinely on my side, and I was lying to him. But if I couldn’t tell Lucia the truth, I certainly couldn’t tell Ragsdale. “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”
“I wish I could go to the party, but Laverne thinks it’s beneath our dignity,” Ragsdale said with a smile. “I just think I’d make everyone uncomfortable.”
I tried to picture Ragsdale in anything but the dark suit that made him look like a banker and failed utterly. “I’m going to have a drink and then settle in for the night.”
“Well, good night, Ms. Davies, and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
We walked together as far as the elevator, where we said good night again, and I took the stairs down to the lobby. The bar was relatively quiet; everyone else seemed to have gone to the final party, held in the Kanchenjunga room. I was settled at the bar before I remembered—
“Hey, Helena,” Kevin said. “How about another Dark ‘n’ Stormy? No innuendo this time.”
“Oh, hi, Kevin, I—” What the hell. “Yeah, I’d like one.”
“Is it okay for me to tell you you look fantastic tonight?” Kevin slid the drink in front of me and leaned on the bar, smiling that amazing smile. I returned it weakly.
“Thanks. For the drink, too.”
He leaned closer. “So, tell me more about magic.”
I took an incautiously large swig of my drink and nearly choked on the rum. “Kevin, I really shouldn’t—”
“Oh, come on, I haven’t told anyone about you. You can trust me.”
I eyed him, so eager and so cute. “It’s not about trust. I don’t know much about magic.”
“So tell me what you do know. Are there lots of…magi, right? Lots of magi in the world.”