by J. B. Garner
Maybe I’d be the one trying to convince Aelfie that Sinclair was okay enough, that we should just do what he wanted and get a fat payday. I mean, I knew the Drake wasn’t lying on that front; he would pay through the snout for the Cornerstone and almost as much to get the secrets of rune magic.
The thought of it all put speed into my strokes and my fingers. I still paid no less attention to things as I had that morning. If I was going to take control of my situation, I would need to look like I meant business. Maybe it had been my own guilt that was making my neck and shoulders tense and pained because I had a spring in my step as I tore through the dresser and picked out a fresh set of clothes.
Instead of the subdued whites and khakis, I picked out a skirt and jacket that matched the fiery red on my beard, alongside a gold silk blouse. It felt bold and, well, Dwarven. Instead of the stylish, pointed boots I had worn earlier, I picked out a pair of thick-soled work boots in the closet, real shit-kickers. Perfect for the impression I wanted to make!
Snatching up my notebook and pen, I stomped out of the suite and down the hall towards Siofra’s desk, a bit of a jerk move at that time of the evening I admit. The Elf was already leaning over the counter and staring at my approach, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Lady Stone, is there something wrong?” As I got right up to the counter, she added as an afterthought, “You should really be quieter; there are sleeping families and workers here!”
I ignored her as I hopped up the steps, letting the metal ring out, a sound that was surprisingly melodious to my ears. As much as I wanted to be polite and gentle with Siofra, I was afraid that if I didn’t stay pumped up like this that I’d lose my emotional momentum. Slapping my notebook down in one hand and my pen in the other, I looked up at the attendant with resolute eyes.
“I need to see Master Sinclair.” Her eyes widened and her mouth started to open but I cut her off. “Now. You tell him it is about the stone and I won’t let it wait. He’ll get the idea.”
My abruptness was like a slap in her face and she recoiled back a step. “I- Yes, well, I will do that.” She was still staring at me as her hand fumbled for the desk phone.
Oh, who was I kidding? I might have an angry streak but I couldn’t be a jerk to someone who didn’t deserve it. I forced myself to dial it down a notch and let an apologetic frown creep in. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault so I shouldn’t be coarse with you.”
That seemed to help and the hurt seeped away some. She picked up the phone and nodded. “I suppose I can forgive you. You know, in consideration of your delicate situation.” There was a hint of a smile. “Do you still wish your message transmitted with the appropriate scowl and thunder?”
I coughed and nodded. “Yes, that would be great if you can manage it.”
Siofra flashed me a wink as she put the receiver to her ear.
Let’s just say that my message worked its magic and it wasn’t long at all before I was back upstairs.
To my shameful delight, Beaks was still thoroughly bruised with the neck brace still in place as he escorted me down the glass hallway to Sinclair’s den. From the shadows under his eyes and generally rumpled suit, the wiry goon must have been roused from his bed. Good, maybe Sinclair would be just as tired.
“Youse got some nerve making a ruckus this late, lady,” he griped in English. I wasn’t too surprised. Blythe had always seemed to be the brains of their little duo and he had enough problems with Truespeech.
“I’ve got a lot more than nerve,” I sniped back. “Your boss knows that and you do too, don’t you?”
One upside of my carnival strongwoman career was a lot of practice in looking, well, strong and tough. While most people who know me will argue that it isn’t just a look, there was a difference between impressions and reality. At this point, Beaks knew the reality and he was getting acquainted with the impression I could make.
His answer was a bristling silence but he instinctively flinched backward a step and stayed there for the rest of our walk. He didn’t even open the door for me, the cad, so I didn’t bother holding the door open for him. There was a deep squeal as the heavy-paned thing slapped him in the forehead.
Sinclair didn’t look half as ruffled as Beaks did but there were some signs that he wasn’t happy either. “Lady Stone,” he began in Truespeech, a faint, sibilant hiss intruding into his ‘normal’ voice, “I certainly had not expected to hear from you before the dawn.” The eyes gave him away most of all. Maybe it was a last-minute disguise job but for whatever reason, I could see the reptilian pupils instead of human ones there. “While I am pleased to hear you wish to discuss matters, I would ask that you be more polite in the – “
I hadn’t stopped my purposeful stride the entire time he was talking. My head barely made it above the edge of his ponderous desk as I walked right up to it, interrupting him by slamming my notebook down, open to the runeword of light. The runes no longer glowed but the black ink now resembled gold leaf stamped on the page. While it would have made a bigger impression had it been some heavy-bound book, it still caught his attention.
The real show-stopper was a second later as I threw my hand back at the page with practiced theatrics. The chill ran through my body again, not nearly as severe as the first time, and that molten radiance erupted forth. Sinclair’s gasp made me smile, the first crack I had seen in his poker face giving me a measure of hope.
“And that’s only the beginning.” Those dragon’s eyes were focusing fast as Sinclair started to lean over his desk so I snatched up the book and shut it. “I’m sorry. Trade secrets, you understand.”
Sinclair’s talons might have been hidden by his holomancy but I was reminded they were still very real as he clenched his hands on the desktop, gouging deep scratches in the wood. “A simple but effective demonstration, I will agree. I assume that you are open to my offer from earlier?”
I kept the notebook clutched to my breast as I stepped back from the desk. “If you want a Cornerstone, I can make it happen but there are certain things I need … that we need … to complete it.” Taking a wide stance, I stared him down. “Until I have your assurances on these things, to know that you are fully committed to this, I am not going to budge an inch.”
Sinclair simmered between happiness and rage as his fingers drummed the table, unseen talons clacking away. “I thought I was clear as diamond earlier. Nothing means more to me than acquiring the stone. It will help thousands of Figments around my territory and who knows how many others.”
“And you as well, Master Dragonsong.” I was pushing my luck but I had to show him that I knew more than he thought I did. If he believed that, he would believe the flat-out lies that were coming up. “There is nothing wrong with wanting a little share of the ore for yourself.”
The Drake was edging towards anger and his concentration was cracking. The holographic man suit was looking oversaturated and moved jerkily as the dragon eyes narrowed. “Be very careful, Mary Stone. You tread upon dangerous territory.” He let out a sharp sigh through his teeth and I swear there was a sputter of some greenish mist that came out. “But I cannot fault your astuteness. What are these things you require?”
“The most critical thing I need is the fragment of the stone that Prince Aelfson brought you.” Having often helped Dr. Mentallo the carnie mentalist with his act when I was younger, I had learned how to pull off a decent ‘brilliant professor’ attitude. “While many of the secrets to the stone’s creation are trapped in my mind, there are necessary materials that are fantastically rare within the artifact itself. I can extract these from the fragment you described, enough to recreate a whole stone.”
“We are already searching for it.” He seemed to be taking the bait so far. He sat back down, his disguise settling back into place. “Rest assured that my agents will find it soon enough.”
“I don’t wish to belittle your employees but I don’t think they will.” Here was the big one, the big con, and I used every bit of my concentratio
n to keep my face straight and my tone even. “You have to understand that every Cornerstone has a runeword that obscures any magical attempts to find it. With how precious these artifacts are to the Dwarven people, you surely understand that level of precaution.”
He arched one eyebrow a hair but I was sure he still bought it. “With the power such stones have, that would be understandable but surely you must have a way to find it or else you wouldn’t be here.”
I nodded. “Correct but there is one other wrinkle to this problem and only one person who can iron it out for us.” I took a deep breath and got ready for everything to go smoothly or fall to pieces with my next statement. “We have to get Aelfread to help us.”
He stared long and hard at me, dead silence pervading the room. I didn’t crack or waver under that gaze. Finally, he spoke in barely-modulated tones, “You must be joking.”
“I don’t joke when gold is in the balance.” It wasn’t my intention to say that but it felt right. “We are speaking of ancient runewords with vast power and let us not mention that Prince Aelfson certainly used some high magic to provide another layer of protection.” I tilted my head forward knowingly. “We both know the Prince, Master Sinclair. He may be a foolish womanizer but he isn’t an idiot. He wanted the stone away from you so he would have hidden it using all of his resources.” To be fair, that last bit was more wishful thinking than an actual lie.
Sinclair’s brow furrowed in contemplation. All I could do was wait for him to give the thumbs up or thumbs down. Finally, he shifted in his throne, leaning his right elbow on an armrest and his chin on that hand. “What makes you think that he can be convinced to retrieve the stone for us?”
“Trust me, Master Sinclair,” I smiled broadly, giving the Drake a knowing wink, “I know exactly how to bring him around.” Hopefully, Sinclair caught the innuendo there. He was very smart and I was counting on that, just like I was counting on his desire for the Cornerstone to cloud just enough of those smarts to make him say yes.
“Very well, Lady Stone, I see what you are driving at and I think you may be correct,” Sinclair rumbled. “I will give you a chance” – I mentally fist-pumped – “but I cannot let the both of you go around unsupervised. I must protect my investment.”
It wasn’t perfect but it was a better shot than anything else I was sure to come up with. “Very well, that is acceptable. How about Huntress Kincaid?” I at least had her sympathies. “She is extremely resourceful.”
Sinclair shook his head. “Out of the question. As an independent Hunter, I cannot be assured that she will keep discrete if you are forced to step outside traditional boundaries to recover the stone.” I translated that easily enough: Bunny had too many principles to blatantly break the law. He glanced past me to poor, beaten Beaks who was still standing by the door and said in English, “Mr. Beaks, go fetch your associate. I have work for you two.”
Chapter 20
IT COULD HAVE been any other hallway in the place save for the oppressive silence that pervaded the place. Either the prisoners here were the most orderly criminals in existence or the place was sound-proofed to hell and back, likely with magic of some kind. The only sounds of any kind where our footsteps going towards Aelfread’s room. Blythe led the way, taking up most of the hallway with his girth, while Beaks hovered behind me like a hawk.
It didn’t take a seer to see that the pair was not at all happy with the errand they had been assigned. I had to grant Beaks a good reason for his displeasure, what with him being my punching bag multiple times the previous day. As for Blythe, well, I had the feeling he didn’t precisely buy all the details of my story. Considering my intentions, I guess I couldn’t fault him that either.
The big man stopped midway down the hall in front of a door like all the rest. As he pulled on a chain that was tucked into his button-up shirt, Blythe eyed me warily. “Okay, Ms. Stone,” he said in English, “the boss said to let you talk to the perp in private but let me make it crystal that there’s plenty of magical and technological doo-dads looking out for trouble. You try any funny business and we’ll be in there before you can say, ‘Jiminy Cricket’.”
I shook my head as he got the chain free, revealing a small, engraved brass medallion. “I understand you’re worried but I’m not going to betray Mr. Sinclair. I’m not an idiot; he’s got more than enough power to squash a little lady like myself.” The best lies do run parallel with the truth; I didn’t doubt Sinclair’s ability to make my life a living hell. I was simply willing to face that risk.
“Yeah, well, just keep that in mind, okay?” Beaks chimed in unnecessarily. I ignored him despite his looming presence and paid attention instead to how Blythe unlocked the door, pressing the medallion gently to the doorplate. After a second, there was the distinct sound of heavy tumblers turning and the grating of metal dragged across metal.
“Wait here a sec,” Blythe muttered and pushed open the door to maneuver inside.
The effect was the same as a pressurized seal breaking. The hiss of air, the sudden if quiet sounds from the room, the faint whiff of sweat, they all roiled out of the room the moment the door cracked open. Unfortunately, between Blythe’s size and my own poor vantage point, I got the smallest of glimpses into the Spartan chamber. There was a cot of some kind, at least, but I didn’t see a sign of Aelfie or anything else before the door closed behind Blythe.
The anxiety roiling under the cold, hard demeanor I was wearing grew. I was half-tempted to ditch my plan, lay out Beaks, take the medallion I hoped he had, and try to bust Aelfie out that very moment. Certainly, there was a runeword or two that could take care of Aelfie’s shackles … assuming I could inscribe them on the metal.
Yeah, that was a stupid idea. As the moments lingered far longer than they should have, I tried to quell my nervousness by pacing, my notebook clenched in front of me. Before I had taken three steps, Beaks, a bit twitchy himself, put a hand threateningly into his jacket.
“Calm down, shorty, and stay put,” he growled, his already deep voice dropping another octave. “Ain’t nothing for youse to be nervous about anyway unless you are about to start trouble.”
I turned back towards his hook nose and frowned. “Performance anxiety, Mr. Beaks.” It wasn’t easy to keep a purely polite tone; I didn’t like these guys. “If I can’t wrap the Prince around my finger and make sure he’ll help us, I can’t do the job Mr. Sinclair wants me to do. That alone is plenty of reason to be nervous.”
“That ain’t my problem,” he began harshly before mellowing a bit, “but that’s a good point. I sure don’t like being on the boss’s bad side. He’s a grade A power player, yanno?”
I arched an eyebrow and was about to question the goon when the door’s seal broke again. Blythe once again eclipsed the open door as he stepped out but this time he held the door open. The thick aroma of sealed-up Elf was about as I would expect from a gym locker room if backed up by a hint of sickly sweetness I didn’t expect. Blythe’s spherical form still limited my view but Aelfie was in the picture this time, now laid out on the cot, looking both disheveled and shackled.
“Okay, Ms. Stone, he’s all yours.” The implied threat hadn’t left Blythe’s voice. “If you need anything, hammer on the door.” He stepped back as far as he could and went as far as to suck in his gut a bit to allow me easier passage. Consider our respective widths, it was still a tight squeeze as I became far more familiar with Blythe that I would ever have wished.
Squeeze I did, though, and there wasn’t even a comedic pop of a cork as I got through into the cell itself. Aelfread’s glittering eyes were wide as he was about to open his mouth, an act I cut off with a slightly raised hand. He caught the gesture and clammed up as I glanced over my shoulder.
“Mr. Blythe, that privacy you promised?”
Blythe grumbled and acquiesced, closing the door behind him. The rumble of locks and the hiss of air followed and a deep sense of isolation settled over me in an instant.
“Mary,” the Elf said
in Truespeech, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, “how did you manage this feat, to come before me now and here of all places?”
It had not been that long since we had last seen one another but what a difference those hours made. While there were no obvious cuts or bruises, Aelfie looked beaten down in every other sense of the word. Siofra had mentioned something about Elves not sleeping but they obviously needed something akin to it, something that Aelfread wasn’t getting. Dark shadows now rimmed his eyes and even the golden glitter in those eyes was dull and diminished.
While no one had bothered to allow him to change into clean clothes or take a shower from the looks of things, his dressing was now gone and fresh, smooth flesh replaced the festering puncture that had been there. The shackles were still there, though, but Blythe must have given them some command to allow Aelfread to speak so freely without pain.
That crushing sense of loneliness had to be magic and I would bet my premium position at the Easy-E-Mart that we had zero privacy. I had to choose my approach very carefully. “I had to see you again, Aelfread. I couldn’t leave you like this, could I? Not after promising you what I did.”
He sat up with some effort as I walked towards the cot. The rest of the room was accommodated in the same fashion as the jails I was familiar with, just with a slightly higher level of quality. “That speaks of the why yet little of the how.” His eyes focused on the notebook I clutched. “You did not – “
Damn, I needed some way to get things across to him that the wizard ears or whatnot wouldn’t notice. For now, innuendo and non-verbal ticks would have to do. “What other choice did I have, did we have? How else could we be together again, sweet prince?” Fortunately, the folding cot was low to the ground, letting me reach up to run a hand along Aelfie’s cheek without having to get a stepladder. “With what we have shared, I would give up almost anything for you.”
