In truth, I didn’t know Myun-Hee all that well, as she was a new hire. Mostly she did second shift, or coverage for when Shelly Richardson was absent – which was a great deal as of late. I did know that she made a version of Korean kimchi from fresh Napa cabbage that could send diehard aficionados of spicy food screaming out the door.
“I was expecting you any minute, Dayna,” she said. “I heard that you and Detective Esteban were the first ones at that shooting down the block.”
“Word travels fast, Lee,” I agreed wearily, as I turned over my sample bags one at a time. “First off, I need to see if these hair strands genetically match our corpse. As for this shard, I need a photographic and chemical analysis.”
“What about a crystallographic examination?”
“If it turns out to be a mineral of some kind, sure. But it might just be a piece of hard plastic.” I began handing over several more bags that jingled as I placed them on the counter. “We’ll need ballistics fingerprinting done off the best marked casing you can find.”
“Got it.” Myun-Hee took each one silently, pairing the bags with a series of forms I was going to have to fill out. I winced inside as I watched the stack grow with each bag I gave her.
“I’m at my official limit for casework autopsies,” I noted. “And I’m betting that we’re going to be put under a lot of pressure to get answers on this case.”
She nodded agreement. “With three wounded personnel? I wouldn’t take that bet.”
“So, I’d see about assigning someone to do the autopsy of the corpse I found at the scene.” I handed over the quick notes I’d jotted down, and she paired it with yet another set of forms to fill out. I waited until she’d attached the forms together with a binder clip before continuing. “The LAPD should be sending the weapon and a tripod mount to the ballistics lab. I’d get someone assigned there as well.”
“Okay, I can do that.” She peered at the last two bags in my hand. “What’s left?”
“These are for a different case,” I demurred, holding up the pieces of sartuul I’d taken from the Codex and the phoenix’s summons. “It’s not as urgent a priority. I’ll just fill out the forms and turn them in to the samples station upstairs.”
“Yeah, we’re certainly going to have to prioritize. We’re already short. I’ll have to pull what the ballistics and autopsy labs need from other resources,” she grumped. “Anything else you need? Before I quit, or find someone willing to fork out one-third time to me as well?”
I hoped that Myun-Hee meant that as a friendly jest. But the paranoid part of me began to worry that my part-time status had started to wear on my co-workers.
“I don’t need anything else, thank goodness.” I considered what else to say, and then blurted, “I’m sorry that this is impacting the department so heavily. At least Shelly Richardson should be back soon.”
“Well, we can hope.”
That stopped me. “What do you mean?”
“She’s supposed to be returning from First Samaritan at the start of next week.” Myun-Hee made a shrug. “But my aunt works at a similar place. She tells me that psych evaluations are always a crap shoot. Richardson might not be back for a long, long time.”
And with that statement, I tossed another reason to fret onto my ever-growing pile of worries.
Chapter Fifteen
The following day, I traded in a cool, sunny morning in Los Angeles for a downright frigid, cloudy one at Fitzwilliam’s palace.
The throne room echoed with conversation as I entered and made my way across the wide stone floor towards the Worst Chair in the Kingdom. The King hadn’t arrived yet, so the generally free-wheeling air of the court was still in play.
Sir Ivor slouched in his father’s chair, airily ignoring the goings-on around him. A couple of the other knights scattered about the two tables sat sullenly quiet. Not unexpectedly, many of the lords guffawed with laughter, and almost all of the attendees chortled gleefully as I made my way up the steps.
Of course. Guess who the butt of the jokes was that day?
“Ah, the prodigal Dame arrives,” Lord Behnaz said heartily. “We have been discussing ways to help you.”
“I’m sure your advice is certainly going to be helpful,” I responded, while leaning heavy on the sarcasm. “Let me guess: is there some wormy relative of yours you want me to marry? Because you should only recommend him to represent me at the Spring Tournament if you want him dead. Apparently, there’s plenty of knights who want a crack at the title.”
“Oh, no! You made your wishes quite clear on that point. Instead, we’ve been discussing other ways for you to earn the crowns needed to pay your debt in full.”
“Yeah...I’m really not interest–”
“Let’s see,” Behnaz continued, ignoring my protest. He held up a little sheet of parchment and read from it. “We thought that with your attention to detail and general strong-willed constitution that you’d be excellent at...general scullery work. Pot scrubbing, dish cleaning, silverware polishing, and the like.”
That got a round of laughter. “I know what scullery involves,” I gritted.
“That’s just for a start. There’s bog iron plumbing – excellent work for those who like to spent time out-of-doors! Then charcoal burning, wool sorting, chicken plucking, leech collecting...and of course, the ultimate universal job, canvas-backing.”
“Yes, those are all...wait, what? Canvas-backing?”
“Only as it is known in polite circles,” Behnaz said, his face fairly oozing delight at my puzzled look. “Others might call it flash-tailing.”
“Night-jobbing,” Lord Alvey added with an evil smirk, as the others joined in.
“Pintle-twisting.”
“Poker-climbing.”
“Pork-pounding.”
“Notch-selling.”
“Cocking the one-eyed snake.”
“In other words,” Behnaz said lewdly, as he leered at my nether regions. “It’s the kind of work you get when you sell a man temporary access to your–”
“All right, I get it!” I snapped, and the court erupted in bawdy laughter.
Red-faced, I marched past and settled into my chair before I turned my fantasies of shooting the entire royal court into reality. Mercifully, the laughter crested and passed like a wave. And to my surprise, everyone returned to whatever little conversation they’d been part of when I’d first showed up.
A kindly voice sounded off to my side.
“I pray, do not let them drive you to distraction,” Commander Yervan said quietly. “Many of the lords only jockey to see which jest can get a reaction out of you.”
I thought about that for a moment.
“You know, you actually have a point,” I realized.
I looked up to where the Commander of the Palace Guard stood at his post just behind the throne, gleaming softly in his gilded plate armor. A fresh scar ran down one side of his face from temple to jawline, mute evidence of the recent battle with the Noctua.
“I only live to serve.”
“No, really,” I insisted. “I appreciate the wisdom. You don’t suppose you could fight for me in the Spring Tournament, help end some of the most recent nonsense?”
A knowing chuckle. “If you’d asked me twenty years ago, I would have been sorely tempted. However, my wife would take a washing board to my poor noddle if I volunteered. Since my fear of the dragon Sirrahon pales in comparison to my better half’s wrath, I must decline.”
Fitzwilliam entered the room, accompanied by the court wizard and a small flock of royal pages. The King’s presence always acted to sober up the court for a bit. Though, by and large, the monarch wasn’t above letting his lords and knights argue, and even scuffle, during especially heated debates. From what I’d seen, verbal jousting was perfectly fine, and physical contests were acceptable, so long as no more than a few drops of blood were spilt.
“I heard laughter all the way down the hall,” Fitzwilliam remarked as he took his regal seat.
“What choice bit of humor did I miss?”
Behnaz waited until Galen had clopped past his chair and turned to stand at the King’s side before he spoke. His double chin jiggled as he cleared his throat. “Sire, we were just discussing various ways Dame Chrissie could make money. She grew distraught at our intemperate suggestions, so for the good of all, they shall not be repeated.”
The King threw Behnaz a sardonic look. “I’m sure that the Dame Chrissie I know was truly distraught over a few high-spirited comments.”
“She did retire to her seat, Your Majesty.”
“Sire, I felt returning to my seat was for the good of the court,” I said, speaking up for the first time. If the lords wanted a reaction from me, then I could see about doing the same with them. “Had I lost my temper, then people would be mentioning Lord Behnaz in the same breath as Sir Varad!”
I made a chopping motion with my outstretched hand. A couple of the lords looked shocked. Galen actually winced. But the rest of the court broke out in laughter, this time in my favor.
I was slowly learning.
Fitzwilliam nodded soberly. “Well done, Dame Chrissie. It seems that I shall not have to devote more manpower to searching the royal garden for any lopped-off members.”
Even more laughter echoed from the rafters. It went on until a now-familiar HISS echoed across the room from the fires burning merrily in the hearth. All talking faded away as yet again the andirons took on the brilliant blue of ball lightning. Embers cracked and jumped like popping corn reaching its exploding point.
The same gigantic bird shape erupted from the dragon mouth of the largest hearth. Fifteen-foot wings expanded into the open space of the throne room. Taloned feet made a metallic-sounding clank as they landed and dug into the stone floor.
Once again, Korr spoke in that strange, almost biblical intonation. Part of me was already curious to know if all phoenix spoke to each other like that. If so, their lives must have been an epic, overdramatic bore.
“I, Korr of the Seraphine, have come again to the court of King Fitzwilliam, line of Julian the Conqueror. Has Dame Chrissie of the royal court acceded to the summons borne from the Quondam?”
Fitzwilliam stood, again cutting a pretty darned good royal figure as he did so. “I, King Fitzwilliam of the line of Julian, welcome your return to my court. I have ordered Dame Chrissie to make her own determination as to whether she shall accompany you to your homeland. But ‘ware, great creature. She speaks with my voice, and her decision shall be as the Kingdom of Andeluvia chooses.”
With that, he sat back down and gestured to me. I stood up in turn, moving slowly so that no one saw the shaking of my knees. Once more, I felt the eyes of the court turn upon me as I gazed into the phoenix’s gigantic, calculating eyes.
“Well met, then,” Korr intoned. “Two choices lie before you. Agree to become the Quondam’s Quester and leave with me for the Vale of the Seraphine. Or decline, and the Ones Who Burn and Rise Again shall fade into the earth, never to shine brilliance upon your world again, so long as you and your children’s children shall live.”
My brain did a strange version of its trademark little click. More of a ‘how could you miss out on the obvious’ sort of mental kick in the pants. What people – or in this case, ancient magical creatures – put before me weren’t the only choices.
The options given to me by Korr were based on a false either-or premise. However, rather than trying to figure out which path he wanted to send me down, I gave the ‘Dayna Chrissie’ answer. On reflection, I suppose I could add it to my list of pending patents.
“I choose neither,” I announced.
The court went silent, except for a couple of astounded inhales. Korr’s head plumes stuck out straight, radiating blue-white sparks.
“You choose...to do nothing?” he asked, in a stunned voice.
“I didn’t say that,” I corrected him. “I said, ‘I choose neither’. I’ll agree to be your ‘Quester’, but I’m not going with you. And I’m not going alone. I’ll be bringing equipment of my choosing, as well as a team of my most trusted associates.”
“But, the Quondam’s summons...” The phoenix blinked rapidly, several times. “This was not part of the deal proffered.”
I gave the bird an acid look. “I have altered the deal.”
Pray I don’t alter it any further, I thought.
“But...”
“If your Quondam has heard of me, then no doubt you are aware that I’m not invited many places for my charming personality.” This got a grudging murmur of agreement from most of the royal court. Galen looked around, scowling, and things went quiet again. “If you need me to figure out the biggest problem your species has ever faced, then you’ll need my best work. And I do my best work when I’m with my friends.”
Korr fidgeted where he stood. His claws left little four-tined scorch marks on the floor. “I do not possess such power as needed to bring more than the Quester to the Vale of the Seraphine. Creatures of ancient lineage such as we are not used to striking bargains with mere ‘sparks’. For you, your King, and his Kingdom are like sparks to us. Flaring, burning and quickly vanishing in our august presence.”
Well, that bit of plume-stroking went over like a lead weight. I heard muttering from the men and women seated behind me. I was starting to get annoyed too. This back-and-forth nonsense really undercut the notion that some ‘grave crisis’ was plaguing the Seraphine. It was probably due in part to the foul mood I’d been put in by Lord Behnaz, but I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice.
“I’ll let the ‘sparks’ comment pass for now, for you’re in luck, Korr. I’m bringing a great griffin warrior, the Fayleene Protector of the Forest, and a centaur wizard. A wizard who happens to be able to transport us wherever we need to go. Do you have any more objections you want me to answer? Because these are pretty pathetic excuses for a species that claims to need saving.”
“We of the Seraphine do require your help,” Korr admitted, in a cowed voice.
“Then it’s your turn to make one of two choices,” I said firmly. “Accept my terms and let me do my job...or get the hell out of my lord’s court, because you’re wasting our time!”
Chapter Sixteen
The phoenix went as quiet as a stone. Well, as quiet as a candle flame, maybe. The yellow whorls swirling in and out of Korr’s flame-feathers threw off an occasional sizzle. And the same faint burning-match scent certainly advertised his presence.
It felt like I’d just thrown a gauntlet down.
Accept my terms or get the hell out, because you’re wasting our time.
Yeah, no one was going to be nominating Dayna Chrissie for Miss Congeniality today.
Then something totally unexpected filled the silence.
A wooden rap-tap-tap that kept repeating in my ear.
Stunned, I glanced behind me. Andeluvian lords, ladies, and knights from both Western and Eastern Reaches were rapping the table with armored fists, bare knuckles, or with hastily grabbed tableware. They kept up their beat, all the while staring in deadly earnest at the phoenix I’d just mouthed off to.
Fitzwilliam nodded and looked over to me, impressed. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “One of our customs you have not yet seen. This is the court’s way of expressing strong agreement without speaking over you.”
Korr remained unmoving and without comment, but the phoenix’s silence spoke volumes. The creature simply wasn’t sure what to do or say anymore. He’d just been given a blunt command by the chosen ‘Quester’ and seen it backed up by the entire royal court.
Korr spread his wings, and I felt a wave of heat wash over me as he dialed his flame-visage back up to full power. The rapping faded away, to be replaced by silence. Only this time, it was an especially tense silence.
“The Seraphine accept Dame Chrissie’s terms!” Korr boomed. “If you shall travel without our august majesty, so be it. Say unto Pirr’s courier the time of your arrival, and I shall inform all that wa
ke in the Vale.”
“That depends,” I hedged. “Is your Vale located in the mountains above the Fayleene Woods?”
Korr’s wingtips drooped. His voice betrayed a hint of shock. “One does not know where the great and powerful race of the Seraphine originate?”
I shot the phoenix a wry look that probably went right over its flame-kissed head. “If I knew, then I wouldn’t be asking, now would I?”
“Then yes, our Vale lies above the land of the deer-sparks, in the direction of the sunset. One cannot help but tremble in awe when it is seen from afar, for our people wake–”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I cut in. In truth, I’d already used up my rudeness quotient for the day, but Korr’s pomposity was getting under my skin. “We’ll get there...when we get there. That’s the best estimate you’re going to get.”
“So be it.” The phoenix let out a musical caw as it spread its wings anew. Blue lightning flashed from the hearth, encasing the creature in ribbons of energy. With a flare of spectral brilliance, and the sizzle of cold water on a hot griddle, Korr vanished in a sulfurous cloud of yellow-white vapor.
I had to give the Seraphine this much: they knew how to make a splashy entrance or exit.
* * *
In the weeks since I’d acquired the so-called Dame’s Tower, I’d been busy assembling a forensics kit on my own dime. Most of the elements were pretty easy to get. I found a travel store that carried a lightweight aluminum attaché case, while medical supply companies were easy sources of forensic tools, bags, and gloves. I had a slightly harder time with many of the chemicals, reagents, and solvents. Several items were considered too hazardous to mail, and without my crime scene analyst credentials I suspect that some vendors would have denied my purchase requests.
But all the planning and associated hassle had paid off. I began a thorough check through my case as I brought Shaw and Liam up-to-date on the happenings in the throne room. Galen listened in, his hooves making restless clops on the floor as he shifted excitedly back-and-forth.
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