“Did he tell you why?” said the Knight. His hand briefly rested on the small of my back, and he spun me, my bare feet sliding over the smooth stone floor.
“Dark Ones,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was getting a bit flushed. He really was a good dancer. “He said you were an enemy of the Dark Ones.”
“I am,” said the Knight. “Once there were thirteen Knights in Earth’s umbra, each one ruling over a demesne. Our task was to guard the Earth from the creatures of the Void. All the other Knights have been destroyed or have fallen away, but I keep to my task.”
“The Knight of Grayhold keeps his word,” I said.
“He does,” said the Knight.
“Is that your secret?” I said.
“I have many secrets,” said the Knight, “but this is the one I shall tell you. You should beware the Rebels, for they have chosen to serve the Dark Ones.”
I blinked. “What?”
I remembered the purple-black fire that had danced around Rogomil’s fingers.
“Not all of them,” said the Knight. “Not yet. But enough. In the Dark Ones the Rebels see a weapon that can overthrow the High Queen and bring their twisted vision of the world to pass. The High Queen is a tyrant, but the Rebels dream of a far darker kind of tyranny. Beware of them, Miss Novoranya. You’ve escaped the Dark Ones several times, and they will not forget it.”
His warning chilled me, but I made myself smile. “Then I won’t be alive to give you that favor, right?”
“To help with that,” said the Knight, “here is a gift.”
He tapped one finger against my forehead.
A shiver went through me, followed by a surge of magical power. Symbols and diagrams flashed through my mind, and suddenly the knowledge of a new spell burned before my thoughts. Corvus had done something similar, teaching me the lightning globe spell that had saved my life several times over the last day.
“A spell?” I said.
The Knight nodded, released my hand, and stepped back. “A ward to resist elemental magic. It duplicates some of the powers of the sengejarme. With the spell, you have a measure of protection from attacks of elemental magic.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. I could think of times such a spell would have been useful.
Sipad-Zid returned with Alexandra, who still held her torn blazer clutched shut. She looked tired and wan, but otherwise uninjured. She looked around the hall with confusion, and her blue eyes widened when she saw me.
“Irina,” she said. “What happened?”
“Nothing good,” I said, “but we’re getting out of here.”
She blinked at me. “What happened to your shoes?”
“Long story.”
“Mrs. Ross,” said the Knight. “Please forgive the brief confinement. Rest assured that it was for your own safety, and that you will take no harm from it. I shall now return you to Madison.”
“Um,” I said. “Don’t put us near the Capitol.” If Rogomil and his men had not fled yet, they wouldn’t be very happy to see me.
“Indeed not,” said the Knight, gray mist swirling around his gauntleted hand as he started a spell. “Goodbye, Mrs. Ross. Until we met again, Miss Novoranya. For we shall.”
He gestured, and the white haze of a rift way swallowed me.
When it cleared I found myself standing next to Alexandra in the lobby of Duke Carothrace’s offices. The power was out, and the front windows had been smashed, likely from the shock wave of an explosion.
“What…what should we do now?” said Alexandra, looking around.
“Go to your office,” I said, “close the door and the blinds, and hide under your desk. When Homeland Security questions you, tell them you ran here after the bombs started going off. If the power’s out, there won’t be any camera footage to contradict you, and both Homeland Security and the Inquisition have bigger fish to fry just now.”
“What about you?” said Alexandra.
“I have to go,” I said. “I need to get out of here right now.” The Ringbyrne Amulet felt heavy in the pocket of my tattered jacket. “Tell no one about me.”
I turned to go.
“Irina,” said Alexandra, catching my sleeve.
I hesitated.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said. “I would have died today. I don’t know who or what you are, and I’m not going to ask. But thank you for my life.”
I stared at her, a wave of guilt going through me. I had almost abandoned her, more than once. Of course, if I had abandoned her, then the Knight would have killed me, and Russell would have died of frostfever within a year.
“You saved my life, too,” I said in a quiet voice.
“How?” said Alexandra.
“Goodbye,” I said. “I’ll be in touch in a few days to make sure everything is all right.”
I left, hurrying through the streets to the parking garage. The streets were deserted, and I saw no signs of pedestrians or vehicle traffic. The explosions must have scared everyone off, and with the Madison branch of Homeland Security compromised, the Duke and the Inquisition must not have had time to put assemble a counter force yet.
I reached my van, paused only long enough to change to dry underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt, and I got the hell out of Madison. I expected to run into barricades as I left the city, but the roads were not closed. After puzzling over it, I realized why. I had sent the Inquisition everything Rogomil’s phone had contained, and likely the Inquisition had sent that information to Carothrace. The Duke’s troops must have swept the Capitol and killed or seized the Rebels by now.
I hoped that Sergei Rogomil was dead.
I drove back to Milwaukee, making sure to keep well below the speed limit. Three times I had to pull over as caravans of Homeland Security vehicles roared down the road, making for Madison, and twice I saw helicopter gunships flying overhead. None of them pulled me over, or showed the slightest interest in me.
When I reached the outskirts of Milwaukee, I pulled over long enough to send a text to Rusk, informing him that I had been successful. Morvilind had to have learned that there had been a Rebel attack in Milwaukee, and I didn’t want him to kill me in order to cover his tracks. It would be a bad joke if I had stolen the amulet and escaped only for Morvilind to kill me in a burst of paranoia.
I stashed my van in the storage unit, retrieved my motorcycle, and rode back to my apartment. It was nearly midnight by the time I got home, and I let myself in with a sigh of relief, dumping my helmet and jacket and the amulet upon the floor. I stripped out of my clothes, turned on the shower, and sat huddled beneath the hot water, my face pressed between my knees.
I sat like that and cried for maybe half an hour.
It had been a really bad day.
Eventually, I calmed down enough to turn off the water, towel off, and crawl into bed. It had been a bad day, but I was still alive. I had the Ringbyrne Amulet, and Morvilind would continue his cure spells upon Russell.
Sometimes survival was its own kind of victory.
I sank into a black and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 12: Favors Owed
The next morning I swung off my motorcycle in front of Morvilind’s mansion, the Ringbyrne Amulet secured in a new courier bag. Mr. Rusk awaited me on the front steps, scowling with disapproval as I approached.
“I’m here to see his lordship,” I said. I felt tired, but I rehearsed my story in my head over and over again. If Morvilind realized that I had met the Knight, he might kill me on the spot. Or if he knew that I had spoken with Rimethur about the Dark Ones, for that matter.
“Miss Moran,” said Rusk. “How unsurprising. After seeing all the mayhem in Madison, I could not help but wonder if you were…”
I remembered the dead women and children I had seen, and my temper snapped.
“Shut up,” I said. “Just shut up. Take me to see his lordship, and then get the hell out of my sight. Another word out of you, and I’ll show you some of the things Lord Morvilind taught me.”
Morvilind stood at his desk, stark and gaunt in his black robe and crimson cloak. All three monitors showed news reports of the recent events in Madison. I suppose it had been too big for Homeland Security and the Inquisition to cover it up entirely, so instead a highly edited version had made its way onto the Internet and the news stations. According to their account, a small band of Rebel terrorists had attacked Rimethur as he came to offer alliance to the High Queen, but Homeland Security and the Duke’s troops had beaten them back with a minimal loss of life.
The story was so wrong that it would have been comical if so many people hadn’t been killed. Maybe it wasn’t surprising. I had been involved in several incidents that had made the news, and every single time most of the key facts had been reported wrong. I wondered if that was the work of the Inquisition, or if the reporters were simply that incompetent.
I knelt and waited for Morvilind to acknowledge me.
“Nadia Moran,” said Morvilind in his deep rasp. “You have returned.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said, rising as he beckoned me closer.
“You were successful?” said Morvilind, turning from his monitors. His cold, dead eyes regarded me. Morvilind the Magebreaker, Rimethur had called him, and the Jarl had claimed that Morvilind had been the one to lead the Elves to Earth. I wondered how many people like me he had killed over the centuries. If he killed me today, he might not even recall it in ten years. It would be like killing an insect to him.
Morvilind the Magebreaker…and now Morvilind sent me all over the United States to steal things.
Why?
A question for another day.
“Yes, my lord,” I said, and I drew out the Ringbyrne Amulet and handed it to him. Morvilind took the amulet, turned it over a few times, and then nodded.
“You have performed satisfactorily, child,” said Morvilind. It was the closest he would ever come to giving me a compliment. “I trust you were undiscovered?”
“Neither Homeland Security nor the Inquisition found me,” I said, which was entirely true.
A frown went over the gaunt face. “How did you manage it?”
Alarm stirred in my mind. He didn’t usually care how I did it, so long as I was both successful and undiscovered. If he started asking too many questions…
“I was lucky, my lord,” I said, which was also entirely true. “I was in the square, hoping to follow Rimethur to the Meridian-Kohler Hotel, disguise myself as a maid or a janitor, and steal the amulet when the opportunity presented itself. Then the Rebels started setting off bombs in the crowd. In the chaos, I was able to grab the amulet and run before Rimethur got a good look at me.” The Jarl had never seen my face. “I had to hide for a while, but once the Duke’s troops and Homeland Security started moving in, I was able to get out of the city without anyone chasing me.”
“Very well,” said Morvilind. He tapped the amulet once more and set it upon the table. “You may go. I shall summon you when I require your skills once more.”
“Did you know?” I said, before my brain could stop me.
His frown returned, sharp with annoyance. “Know what?”
“That the Rebels were going to try and assassinate Rimethur,” I said, “to try and drive a wedge between the frost giants and the High Queen.”
“Do you take me for a fool, child?” said Morvilind. “Of course I did not know. You are a thief, not a warrior. Sending you into such a situation would be like trying to use a screwdriver as a sledgehammer. You would be killed, and it would be inconvenient to train your replacement at the moment.”
“Thank you,” I said, hiding my discomfort.
Morvilind seemed not to hear. “I suspected that the Rebels might try something, this is true. So did the Inquisition, for that matter. But I did not expect the Rebel vermin to act so boldly.” His frown deepened, though he wasn’t looking at me. “The High Queen has been too lenient with the humans, and time grows short. Time grows far too short, and I must…”
He fell silent, and shook his head.
“My lord?” I said.
“That is not your concern,” said Morvilind. “Depart, and I shall summon you once I require you again.”
He turned, and with that, the conversation was over.
I bowed deeply and strode from the library, hiding my relief. He hadn’t asked too many questions, and he had no idea that I had met the Knight of Grayhold. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. Morvilind was powerful and clever and knowledgeable, but he was not omniscient. He didn’t know I had met the Knight. He didn’t know about my connection to Nicholas Connor.
I could deceive him…and perhaps I could find a way to use that to save myself and Russell from him.
Though I had no idea how.
Still, it was a heartening thought.
###
A week later, I used one of my burner phones to arrange a meeting with Alexandra.
I met her at a coffee house in Oconomowoc, a little lakeside town about halfway between Madison and Milwaukee. The lake meant that a lot of boaters and tourists came here, and so the town was full of coffee houses and wine bars and little boutique shops that catered to tourists. It was exactly the sort of place someone like Alexandra would come to take a few days off with her husband while he was on leave.
If Homeland Security or the Inquisition was monitoring her, that was what they would think.
Or so I hoped.
“You’re alive,” said Alexandra as we sat down. She was wearing a yellow sundress and sandals, the sort of thing suitable for a stroll along the beach on a nice day. I was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and my motorcycle jacket. And running shoes, thank God.
“Yep,” I said. The coffee was good, if overpriced. “I did my mission and I got out. How about you?”
“I talked to some people in Homeland Security,” said Alexandra. “Even one Knight of the Inquisition. They only had a few questions for me, and it felt like a formality. They seemed to know everything they wanted to know already. I think one of the Rebels must have flipped and told them everything.”
“That seems pretty likely,” I said, thinking of Rogomil’s phone. I hated Punishment Day videos, but I had watched this week’s crop nonetheless. Eighty-six Rebels had been convicted of the attack on Madison and executed, the beheadings recorded and made available on the Internet. I recognized most of the men from Rogomil’s band of fake Homeland Security officers.
In way, since I had stolen Rogomil’s phone, I was directly responsible for their deaths.
I did not regret that in the slightest.
But both Sergei Rogomil and Anton had not appeared in the videos. Maybe the Inquisition had taken them prisoner for further interrogation.
Maybe they had gotten away.
I would have to keep looking over my shoulder. Thought that wasn’t anything new. I already lived in a state of paranoid vigilance.
“Did your husband make it through okay?” I said.
“He did,” said Alexandra, smiling a little. “He was really worried once he heard what had happened, so once Homeland Security said I could go, I decided to take some time off and spend it with Robert.”
I grinned. “Did he like that ridiculous underwear?”
Alexandra turned a bright shade of red as she stammered out something, which answered the question all on its own.
I handed her a small card with a phone number. “If you get in trouble, call me.”
Alexandra frowned. “What kind of trouble?”
“Trouble,” I said. “Something you couldn’t tell the Duke or Homeland Security. I owe you one, and I repay my debts.”
Alexandra looked puzzled, but she took the card. “What did I do?”
“You saved my life,” I
said. “Not the sort of thing I forget.”
And I felt guilty. I had almost murdered her in cold blood, and I had almost abandoned her in Grayhold. Maybe this would make up for it someday, or at least salve my conscience a little.
“All right,” said Alexandra, tucking the card in her purse. “Thank you, Irina. For my life.” She smiled. “I should probably go. I left Robert at the hunting store, and he’s liable to buy enough ammunition to shoot every deer in Wisconsin.”
“Goodbye, Alexandra,” I said. “Take care of yourself.”
I stood on the sidewalk and watched her go, and felt a pang of jealousy. She would go have a pleasant day her husband, and maybe during his leave she would get pregnant. Alexandra would have a home and a family and children, and I would not.
Still. I was alive, and I wasn’t beaten yet. That had to count for something.
I made up my mind and walked to my motorcycle. I would head for Milwaukee and visit my brother and the Marneys. I would spend the night. Hell, maybe I would even let them take me to church.
Certainly there were worse fates that could have befallen me.
Epilogue
At one in the morning in the town of Williston, North Dakota, the man who called himself Corvus moved through the crowd filling the bar.
It was a rough bar. The oil fields of North Dakota had been destroyed during the Conquest and abandoned for years after, but they had reopened a century ago and had been worked ever since. The men filling the bar were mostly young, mostly drunk, and accustomed to rigorous physical labor and defending themselves. The only women were the bartenders, with tight shirts, fixed smiles, and hard eyes, and a few women scattered about the crowd who were quite obviously prostitutes.
Corvus could have killed them all without working up a sweat.
He wouldn’t, though. He was a Shadow Hunter, not a common murderer, and a man could not become a Shadow Hunter without learning self-control in the most brutal fashion possible. His Shadowmorph stirred within him, sensing the life energy that filled the bar, but Corvus ignored it.
Cloak Games: Omnibus One Page 32
