Cloak Games: Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  At least Alexandra was not cruel to the slaves, not by any definition of the word. Still, the very fact the slaves existed was cruel enough, I suppose.

  I pushed the thought out of my mind. The High Queen and her nobles and the rest of the Elves could go to hell, and as far as I was concerned the Rebels could go to hell right next to them. All I cared about was Russell, and James and Lucy Marney, who had looked after Russell all these years.

  The rest of the world could burn.

  The dark thoughts chased themselves around my head as I smiled and chatted with Alexandra, and made ready to steal away the Ringbyrne Amulet.

  ###

  August 13th, the day scheduled for Rimethur’s arrival, dawned hot. It was at least seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit when I woke up at six in my shabby little hotel room, and the Internet claimed that it was going to get up to a hundred degrees by noon. I laughed a little at that as I got dressed in my office outfit of skirt, blouse, blazer, and heels. The frost giants came from a colder world than Earth, so of course Rimethur would visit on the hottest day of the year.

  Maybe he would keel over from heatstroke, and I could steal the amulet then.

  I had a plan. Hundreds of people worked at the Meridian-Kohler Hotel, and they couldn’t all possibly know each other. Using the stolen database, I had falsified myself a name badge, and used that to steal a cleaner’s gray coverall. Once Rimethur was ensconced his guest suite, I would enter the hotel, slip into his suite, and make off with the amulet.

  If I could.

  Rimethur would know magic, and so would any other frost giants that accompanied him. That meant I couldn’t Mask myself to get past them. I would have to use stealth and Cloak myself if any of them got too close. If I was quick and kept my wits about me, likely I could snatch the amulet.

  Or get myself killed.

  There was only one way to find out.

  I drove to downtown Madison and stashed the van in a nearby parking structure, paying a ridiculous rate to do so. Thankfully, I had already set up my centerpieces at Battle Hall the night before, so I didn’t have to listen to the damned things rattle around the back. I grabbed a courier bag, two cups of coffee, and went to work.

  Rimethur wouldn’t arrive for another hour, but the square around the white dome of the Capitol was already packed. Homeland Security had cordoned off the entire square, blocking the streets with concrete barriers, and checkpoints monitored the pedestrians entering the square. Homeland Security officers in their blue uniforms and mirrored black shades were everywhere, and a few of them stared at me as I passed. That set off all sorts of alarm bells in my head. Still, they probably had no idea who I really was, and they were staring because I was a twenty year old woman in high heels, a tight skirt, and a form-fitting blazer. Pity I couldn’t have worn my cleaner’s coverall to this. No one ever paid attention to janitors, a fact I had exploited more than once.

  I stopped at a checkpoint. A grim-faced Homeland Security officer stepped forward, his eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. The officer’s frown deepened. I had the sense that he was measuring me with his eyes, or…

  Or he was trying to remember me from somewhere.

  Come to think of it, he looked familiar. But where? I couldn’t quite place it. He looked about forty, with a clean-shaven, gaunt face and a hard, unsmiling mouth.

  “Security pass?” said the man. His voice was flat, with no discernable accent. I handed over the little plastic card Alexandra had made for me. The officer scanned it with his phone, which made a satisfying little beeping noise. He produced a metal detector wand and ran it up one side of my body and down the other, and waved it over my courier bag. It didn’t beep once, and he returned to the wand to its holster.

  “Your name is Irina Novoranya?” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. A dozen different smart remarks danced upon my tongue, but I held them back. This was not the time to mouth off to a Homeland Security officer.

  “Have you ever been to Los Angeles?” he said.

  A little chill of alarm went through me. “Yes, sir. When I was a girl. My family came to the United States after the Archons destroyed Vladivostok. Then we came to Wisconsin when my father got a job at a meat-packing plant, and…”

  “Go,” said the officer, waving his hand. “Next!”

  For a moment I hesitated. I was sure I had seen that officer someplace before. He had mentioned Los Angeles. Had he been near the Silver Dollar, or part of Mr. Rojo’s gang? Or had he been working with the anthrophage? The officer started to scowl at me, and I felt the annoyance of the line forming behind me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and hurried through the checkpoint.

  The crowds inside the barricades were mostly local dignitaries – politicians and businessmen and the like, along with their bodyguards and assistants. None of the chief Elven nobles had arrived yet, and a large portion of the Capitol’s front steps had been roped off for them. I did see several lesser nobles standing in the crowd, along with a few Knights of the Inquisition in their black coats.

  Right. That meant using no magic. If I used magic in front of them, they would take me in for questioning. If I used illusion magic in front of them, they would kill me on the spot.

  I found Alexandra near the velvet rope cordoning off the stairs. She wore a charcoal-gray blazer and skirt over a white blouse, along with a golden necklace and earrings. The earring tapped against her phone as she talked into it, and she finally sighed and hung up. She was wearing more makeup than usual today.

  “Irina,” she said. “There you are. The Duke and his guests will arrive soon. What do you have for me?”

  “The last of the contracts for the rental cars,” I said, handing over one folder. “Just have to sign them. Um…a bill from Homeland Security for overtime hours, and one from the city of Madison for the street closures. They’re all set, you’ll just have to sign. Oh, and this.” I handed one of the coffee cups over.

  “Irina,” said Alexandra with a smile. “You are both a miracle worker and a saint.” She took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Seriously, if we get through this, you can work for me. Full-time, benefits, everything. The Duke even offers two weeks of vacation a year.”

  “Thank you,” I said, cursing myself. Maybe I had been too helpful. If I stole Rimethur’s amulet and disappeared, it would be obvious. I would have to steal the thing, hide it someplace, and then feign a reason to depart a few weeks later.

  Though I would have to steal the amulet first. Fortunately Morvilind’s mansion was only about two hours from Madison. I could slip away with it, drop the thing off with Morvilind, and then return to Alexandra’s office the next day with no one the wiser.

  “Did you happen to bring a pen?” said Alexandra, sifting through the papers.

  “Oh, of course,” I said, pushing aside my dark musings. For the rest of the morning, I just had to pretend to be Irina Novoranya, the young woman who only wanted to impress her boss, get a good job, and maybe find a nice man-at-arms to marry. It was a pleasant dream.

  But not one I wanted. Even if I found a way to cure Russell and free myself of Morvilind tomorrow, I could not settle for a quiet life. I wanted enough power to make sure no one could dominate me again. I wanted to learn more magic, learn the skill to wield the fire of the elements with my will.

  Someday, maybe. Not today, though.

  “Oh, hell,” muttered Alexandra, glancing at her phone. “The representatives from the mayor’s office want to set up in the space reserved for the governor and his staff. We’d better go talk them down.”

  Today, I was going to help Alexandra put out fires.

  We circulated among the guests, and I put on a serious face as Alexandra talked various pompous blowhards down from their arguments. All of human politicians wanted to be as close to the Elven nobles as possible, and all of them cited their love for the High Queen and their loyal service to her realm and her lords. Alexandra had a gift for this sort of thing, and she soothed over the dispute
s without bruising anyone’s inflated ego. I nodded a lot and pretended to take notes.

  Then Alexandra’s phone chimed, and she glanced at the display.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said. “The Duke and his guests are arriving. I’ll need to meet the Duke.” She handed me her phone. “Can you text the manager at Battle Hall and let him know? Also, the Homeland Security lieutenant in charge of traffic? Both their contacts are at the top of my list.”

  “Will do,” I said. “I’ll get your phone back to you when I’m done.”

  Alexandra flashed me a white smile and hurried off to greet her overlord and employer. I dutifully thumb-typed the messages into the phone and sent them, and received acknowledgements in short order. It felt strange holding her phone. She had just handed me a lot of trust. With a few text messages and emails I could destroy her life. A weird tangle of emotion went through me, and I tried to ignore it.

  No, I wouldn’t destroy her life, but maybe I could help myself. Perhaps I could find a way to get myself into the Meridian-Kohler Hotel without trouble. If Duke Carothrace’s event coordinator made a request of the manager…

  Applause cut into my thoughts, and I looked up to see the crowds clapping and cheering.

  Duke Carothrace had arrived.

  I started pushing through the crowd, towards the stairs where Alexandra waited for her phone. I’m pretty short, which meant most of the crowd blocked my view of the Elven nobles. I did get glimpses, though. I saw Duke Tamirlas of Milwaukee, tall and regal and aloof in his long blue coat and the ornamented red cloak of an Elven noble. I had seen images of Tamirlas in the news all my life, and I had briefly seen him in person at Paul McCade’s ill-fated Conquest Day gala. Duke Carothrace walked next to him, a short man for an Elf, wearing his gleaming golden armor beneath his red cloak, offering the crowd a wave and a wide smile as he passed. The Elven nobles varied in their attitudes towards humans. Some thought of us as cattle. Some, like Morvilind, regarded as useful tools to be used and then discarded. And some, like Carothrace, took a paternal view of humans, regarded them as children in need of guidance.

  After all, he offered his employees two weeks of vacation.

  I wondered if any Elves thought that coming to Earth had been a mistake, that they had no right to rule humans.

  If there were any such Elves, I had never met them.

  Four Knights of the Inquisition walked with Carothrace’s party, and even the other Elven nobles made sure to keep well away from them.

  The nobles took their position upon the stairs, and Duke Carothrace stepped to a podium. A very expensive microphone had been set up there, and I knew it was expensive because I had helped Alexandra rent the sound system. A silence fell over the crowds around the Capitol.

  “Subjects of Her Majesty the High Queen Tarlia, citizens of Madison, Wisconsin and the United States,” said Duke Carothrace in a booming voice. “Today, we have a tremendous honor. The High Queen, in her wisdom, has made peace with the frost giants of the world of Jordenhalm, and the Great King of the frost giants has sent an emissary to discuss terms of peace and alliance with Her Majesty. The High Queen has chosen Madison for the honor of receiving the Great King’s emissary, and noble Elves and humans alike shall uphold the honor of our High Queen!”

  Thunderous applause and cheers answered him. I faked enthusiastic applause, and used the opportunity to push my way a few yards further through the crowd. Alexandra ought to be near the railing, not far from the podium, and I could hand over her phone.

  The air shivered with power, and my magical senses felt arcane force twisting around me. I kept pushing through the crowd, and I saw a disc of gray mist swirling and writhing atop the Capitol steps. Another pulse of power went through the air, and pale white light shone within the mist as the rift way to the Shadowlands opened. I knew the spell to create a rift way to the Shadowlands, had used it before when I was desperate. It took all my strength to create a rift way large enough for just me to enter, but the gate opening upon the steps was big, large enough for six men to walk abreast.

  Or maybe three frost giants.

  The rift way opened, and through it I glimpsed the dead forests and empty black skies of the Shadowlands. A dark shape moved behind the mist, and then stepped through the gate and onto the steps of the Capitol.

  And I saw Jarl Rimethur with my own eyes.

  He looked just as he had in the image that Morvilind had shown me. The Jarl stood nine feet tall, towering over even the Elven nobles (and he dwarfed Duke Carothrace). His skin was a peculiar silvery-blue color, his hair and beard like gray ice in the dead of winter, and his eyes glowed with a peculiar harsh light. He wore ornate silvery plate armor, the designs upon it vaguely Norse, and a long black cloak lined with some kind of fur hung from his massive shoulders.

  The Ringbyrne Amulet hung from a chain around his neck.

  A little shiver of excitement went through me. The damned thing was so close. The amulet was about the size of my hand, a disc of silvery metal inscribed with alien symbols. In its center rested a pale blue crystal that gave off a strange light, and I had the peculiar feeling that it was an eye, that it was watching the crowds around Rimethur.

  The Jarl stepped forward, and I saw the hilt of the massive sword belted at his waist. A weapon like that would have wounded my father and given him the frostfever that spread to my mother and brother, the frostfever that had led me here.

  I wondered if Rimethur knew a cure for frostfever.

  “Jarl Rimethur,” said Carothrace in a ringing voice. Likely he had used a spell to enhance the volume of his voice, to say nothing of its depth and resonance. “In the name of Tarlia, High Queen of the Elves and the Earth, Defender of the Elven peoples, Guardian of humanity, I, Carothrace, Duke of Madison, greet you and welcome you to the city of Madison.”

  Rimethur offered a formal bow to the Duke and straightened up. Behind him a half-dozen more frost giants emerged from the rift way, standing behind him in silence. I tried to remember what the frost giants called their lesser nobles. Thains? Thanes? It was something with a T.

  “I greet you, Carothrace Duke,” rumbled Rimethur, his cold voice like ice cracking, “in the name of the Great King of Jordenhalm. The Great King has decreed that there shall be peace between our peoples, and so there shall be peace.”

  “Together,” said Carothrace, “perhaps we can defeat the treacherous Archons, and rid the worlds of their evil and dark magic at last.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rimethur, who did not seem convinced.

  Alexandra’s phone chimed in my hand, receiving a dozen text messages at once. I had better get it back to her. I looked around, but I still couldn’t see her, and even with high heels I wasn’t tall enough to see over most of the spectators. I pushed my way to the railing, and then made my way along it, ignoring the scowls and glares cast my way. Beyond the Elven nobles I saw the steel railing on the other side of the stairs. More dignitaries crowded the space, interspersed here and there with Homeland Security officers. A man in the uniform of a Homeland Security colonel stood at the railing, watching the Elven nobles, and…

  I froze.

  For a moment I could not think through the fear that flooded through me.

  I suddenly remembered where I had seen the officer manning the checkpoint.

  Because I knew the man in the colonel’s uniform was not a member of Homeland Security.

  About two years ago I had made a serious mistake that had almost gotten me killed.

  I had fallen in love.

  His name, he claimed, was Nicholas Connor. I had sworn to never fall in love, to never let anyone have any power over me, but Nicholas…he was clever and funny and charming and charismatic. Something about him had wormed its way past my defenses, and I had fallen for him hard.

  He also had the build of an athlete and had been a supremely skilled lover.

  That had likely had something to do with it, too.

  Nicholas was all those things, and he was also one of
the coldest, most ruthless men I had ever had the misfortune to meet. He was the leader of a Rebel cell, and I had learned that he planned to set off a bomb to kill thousands of people in Los Angeles…with me set to take the blame when he escaped. Even in the madness of my infatuation with him, I had not quite abandoned reason. I had given him a false name, telling him nothing of my magical abilities. At the last minute I realized what he had intended, and I turned the tables on him. One anonymous phone call to the Inquisition later, Nicholas had been forced into hiding, most of his Rebel cell arrested, but I had gotten away scot-free.

  The experience had left me sadder, but much, much wiser. Considering what could have happened, I couldn’t complain.

  The man in the colonel’s uniform was named Sergei Rogomil. He was Russian, and possessed a variety of useful skills, most of them illegal. He had been Nicholas’s second-in-command, and was the sort of Rebel who seemed to kill for the thrill of it. There was a huge bounty upon his head in the Russian Empire, most of the provinces of the European Union, and the entirety of North America.

  And he was standing forty feet away from me,

  Wearing the uniform of a Homeland Security colonel.

  My brain caught up with my fear.

  I had recognized the screener because he was one of Rogomil’s men. If Rogomil had infiltrated just one of his men into Homeland Security, then he could just have easily brought in twenty or thirty. That meant there could be dozens of Rebels scattered around the crowd, all of them carrying guns and God knew what else.

  There were thousands of people packed into the space around the Capitol. It was exactly the sort of target Rogomil would have chosen for his special brand of terror.

  For a moment I had no idea what to do.

  I couldn’t start screaming that I saw a Rebel in the crowd. I didn’t know how many of the Homeland Security officers were Rebels, and they might shoot me to shut me up. Or they would take me in for “questioning” and shoot me in the back of a van. Or maybe only Rogomil and a few of the officers were Rebels, and the loyalist officers would overpower the Rebels. Then they would take me in for questioning, and I would have to explain how I had known that Rogomil was a Rebel.