Pack of Lies psi-2

by Laura Anne Gilman

  Ian’s eyes squinted shut, and I swear I saw virtual whiskers curl forward like a cat’s when it sees something intriguing. “What are you thinking, Ben?”

  “I’m thinking that this plot rests on the trio’s need to look like they were caught up in circumstances beyond their control, that they each had equal and valid claim to being innocent. The girl, who should not be blamed, the male who might have been not guilty, the ki-rin who cannot be questioned. They’re relying on the confusion of conflicting reports, the Council’s desire to have as little fuss as possible, and the ki-rin’s impeccable reputation for honesty, to keep everyone off-balance…so we have to throw them off-balance.”

  “And we do that by…what?” Pietr asked.

  “By spreading a fact that’s worse than the truth,” I said, thinking out loud, knowing the way Venec’s mind worked. “Something that would be so reprehensible that they would have no choice but to counteract it.”

  “What the hell could be worse than what happened?” Pietr asked.

  “A lie,” Ben said quietly. “The lie that the ki-rin was lying.”

  Ian sat back in his chair and let out an explosive “whooof” of air. “Twenty years I’ve known you, Benjamin, and suddenly I discover you’re evil.”

  Venec laid out the details, and I was impressed. Ian was right: it was evil. In a really, beautifully, evil-to-do-good way. And, like all the best plans, it was really simple.

  “Simple, yeah, but it’s not going to be easy,” Pietr warned, when I commented on that. “The rumors will have to be inserted carefully, allowed to spread naturally, so nobody will doubt them. The slightest hint of a trap, and it all falls apart.”

  “Done this before, have you?” Nick joked.

  “Maybe.”

  Everyone except Sharon looked quietly gleeful at the idea. Our straight shooter sat there with a wrinkle between her perfectly plucked blond brows, and looked like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure opening her mouth would be smart, right then.

  “What?” I asked her quietly.

  She started, and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I just…doesn’t this bother you? Lying, spreading lies?”

  “Nope.”

  That surprised her; she’d obviously expected me to have moral qualms, to be part of the Staunch Truth Brigade.

  “Look…” I paused, trying to explain it properly. “I’m blunt to a fault, and I don’t have much patience with prevarications or runarounds. But I was raised to consider intent, not pretty words. And the intent of these four…it was to kill someone. I feel sorry for Mercy—I don’t think she really understood what she was getting into. But if she took part willingly…if the ki-rin agreed to this…then we need to know, however we get that confirmation. And if she didn’t, if the ki-rin used her, or if the ki-rin itself was used…then they’ll be exonerated once and for all.”

  “The ends justify the means?”

  “This isn’t the easy case we all thought it was, at first. It’s way more complicated, and there are way more players involved. So yeah, we use whatever tools we have. Including, yes, saying not-quite-true things, which will disappear as soon as the ki-rin takes the bait and refutes them.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?”

  “It has to. That’s our job now, to make sure it does.”

  “Exactly,” Venec said, making us both jump. Our new weird connectivity apparently still didn’t keep him from being able to sneak up on me, damn it. “I trust that you will all handle this with delicacy and subtlety,” he said, speaking to everyone, now. “Remember, not more than three targets each, to keep too many from being traced back to us too obviously, so pick your shots carefully. Not you, Nick. I saw that wobble there. Sit your backside down, you’re not going anywhere.”

  Nick looked put out at being left out of the fun, but Venec was right; he still looked shaky as hell, and based on observation, it would take him a day or two to really recover from his current-hacking.

  Venec’s plan depended on street-team tactics: starting a person-to-person buzz that would, hopefully, take on a life of its own. Viral marketing, except what we were pushing was bait to bring the ki-rin back to us. We were supposed to pick our three targets from where our contacts were the strongest: Sharon would hit her legal ties, starting with the ones who already knew about this case, while Nifty and Venec worked the lonejack population, Ian did his thing on their Council counterparts, and Pietr and I went back out to the fatae community.

  “So. Any idea where we can find a handful of fatae to whisper into their tufted ears? I doubt they’re still hanging out in the park….”

  My first thought had been to call Danny back, but something held me back. Danny had been helpful to us already, had ties, if indirectly, to the case. He had a bias toward our side of things. Ideally, the rumor should spread from someone who had no horse in the race; someone other fatae would not doubt. Plus, Danny was half-human—he might be doubted, for that reason.

  Bobo? Maybe. I didn’t know how to find him, though— I’d have to wait until he came on the job tonight.

  But I wasn’t without connections, in the meanwhile.

  “Come on. Time to visit an old family friend.”

  From the street, it just looked like an old brownstone, the same as all the other brownstones lining the side street off Fifth Avenue. In other words, it looked like you needed a personal worth of at least a million just to be allowed inside.

  “Miss Bonnie!” The maid who met us at the door was all smiles, and gave me a good, rough hug. “You finally come to visit! You are well?”

  “I’m fine, thanks, Li. Is Herself in?”

  “In the sunroom, as always.” Li took our coats, and stepped back, letting me find my own way to our hostess.

  “I take it you know these people,” Pietr said dryly, at this show of familiarity.

  “Herself was friends with my mentor’s mentor,” I said, and that was all the warning he got.

  “Oh, my god.”

  I didn’t turn to look at Pietr, but allowed myself just the slightest smile of one-upmanship.

  “Bonnnnita. You are playing gamessss with your friennnnndsssss againnnn?”

  I made a low bow, but couldn’t keep from laughing, which probably ruined the effect. “My apologies, Madame. I am a very bad worm.”

  Madame was curled in her usual place, directly under the glass roof-panes that gave the room its name. She didn’t need the sunlight; her body chemistry kept her warm in any weather, but dragons, like cats, loved nothing better than to nap in a sunbeam.

  “You have lived here for nearly a year, and only now you come to visit? Tsssssssk.”

  You haven’t been scolded until you’ve been scolded by a Great Worm. I kept my bow, and waited.

  “Bah. Innnntroduce me to your friennnnnd, Bonnnnita.”

  “Madame, this is my friend and companion, Pietr Cholis. He, like I, is an unworthy worm.”

  Pietr got over his shock long enough to step forward and make a better-than-passable bow.

  Madame ducked her great head down to inspect him, the foot-long silver whiskers on either side of her triangular head twitching forward to test the air around him. Greater Dragons were blind as bats, in more ways than one—their eyes were gorgeous, faceted things, completely useless in daylight, but their whiskers were like sonar, telling them everything they needed to know and maybe some things you’d rather they didn’t.

  “Greetingsssss, Pietr. You are welcome to my home.”

  “The honor is mine, Great Lady.” He shot me a look that promised retribution, but he was grinning like an idiot. Madame had that effect on humans.

  “I regret that we cannot stay long, Madame. You are correct, I have been tardy in paying my respects, and I desired to remedy that, and yet my responsibilities carry me elsewhere.”

  “Ohhhhhh?” Madame’s long length coiled down from her divan, her movements somehow conveying an eager leaning forward, th
e way a human might to hear something better. Pietr shifted, but held his ground without fear. I’d known he would; having sex with a guy doesn’t tell you everything about him, but you get a sense for how they’ll react under pressure, and Pietr was as much a rock as his name suggested. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d flinched, though.

  I’d thought I’d been prepared when J first brought me here: I’d already encountered a rock dragon; how much more could Madame be?

  I had been, as I said, an unworthy worm. To compare an Ancient with a common rock dragon? Useless. No matter how many times I saw her, Madame never failed to enthrall: the paintings artists had done for millennia failed to capture how iridescent her tiny feathers were, or how delicate her breath felt when it touched your skin, carrying the faintest hint of jasmine and warm tea.

  It was only after you got past the magnificence of her form that you realized that she had the soul of a gossipy old grandmother.

  “Yes,” I said solemnly. “We are on an errand of great significance for our teachers.” A teacher, to Madame, would carry much greater weight than “boss.” My association with J meant that, to her, I was no menial worker to be employed; a student obeying her teacher’s command was something she could respect, however. “There has been a terrible scandal, and we need to right it, before any more are harmed.”

  “A ssscannndal? You are teassssing me, Bonnnnnita.” Those whiskers twitched in interest.

  “Never, Madame.” I would have placed my hand to my heart, but she would suspect me of mockery, then. “It is merely a matter of delicacy….” I paused, as though suddenly struck by a new thought. “Indeed, perhaps you might advise us, you who have seen so much, if such a thing has happened before?”

  Madame leaned forward even closer, the ears set at the back of her head now twitching forward like a cat’s.

  “A ki-rin,” I said into those ears, “has failed the truth.”

  The story we were spreading was that the ki-rin, rather than defending his companion, had killed the human for putting the moves on her, after she had encouraged his attentions. Two birds with one stone: we insulted both the ki-rin’s honor, and that of his companion, to say that she would solicit sexual attention without formally ending her relationship with the ki-rin and retiring with respect. Nasty, but effective, and within the bounds of what we believe happened. The ki-rin had not lied…but was refusing to tell the truth not lying by omission?

  “It is impossible.” Madame’s response was natural, but she was sniffing the bait with interest. I played the thread out carefully, willing Pietr to follow my lead and look saddened and yet resolute. I didn’t dare look to see how he was doing, though.

  “All that we have been taught tells us so. And yet…on my own honor and that of my mentor, and my mentor’s mentor whom you knew, Madame, it is so. You have heard the story, of how a ki-rin took justice for the despoiling of his noble companion, as only proper.”

  Madame nodded, but did not speak, waiting for me to continue.

  “The facts do not agree with the ki-rin’s story, Madame. The facts, in fact, contradict its story, and tell a different one. It is distressing, and worrisome to my teachers, who value truth and tradition above all things.”

  Well, truth, anyway. I’m not sure Stosser ever met a tradition he didn’t screw with, somehow.

  “Annnd what will you do with thesssssse facts?”

  “Madame, we would speak with the ki-rin, but it refuses to return to speak with us. Is that not odd?”

  “Asssss though it were guilty connnnscience?”

  She said it, not me. I felt the hook settle in Madame’s cheek; all I had to do was make sure it stayed there. “I would not believe it so,” I said, willing my confusion and, yes, my hurt, my sense of betrayal to show through. A ki-rin had to be better than the rest of us. If it wasn’t… “And yet…what else are we to think? It is a terrible thing, and not to be spoken lightly of.”

  “Innnndeeeeeed nnnnot,” Madame agreed, her expression looking far more feline than serpentine. Bingo.

  We excused ourselves soon after, regretfully declining the offer of afternoon tea. Li met us at the door with our coats, and once we were back out on the street, I let myself breathe normally again.

  “That was…you just manipulated a dragon!”

  “Yeah.” I felt a bubbly sort of giddiness hit me. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “I fear you,” Pietr said solemnly, and lifted my hand to his lips and planted a dry, tickly kiss on my fingers. “Where next?”

  “Downtown. There are a couple of bars that cater to the fatae…. And I hear they’ve got damn good beer on tap.”

  It took us four bars and more beer than I was comfortable drinking that early in the day, but we finally found a little pub where at least half the clientele were nonhuman. The rest looked to be Nulls, surprisingly. Or maybe not surprising at all: people who were half in the bag before noon probably didn’t blink if their drinking buddy, in better light, might possibly have horns, or wings, or iridescent skin. The bartender was Talent, but he seemed more intent on the racing pages on the bar in front of him than anything we might say or do.

  “You’re wrong,” I said to Pietr, as though we were continuing a conversation we’d started just before we came in.

  “I’m not. You’re a sentimental fool who clings too hard to tradition, without any basis in fact. Hell, I don’t see why it matters, anyway. The guy deserved to die. So what if maybe the ki-rin lied about the details—the world’s a cleaner place for it.”

  Even in the dim bar interior I could see Pietr’s eyes widen slightly, indicating that he’d seen someone within earshot show interest in our conversation. Excellent. Inevitably, one of the roots we had planted today would reach the ki-rin. All we had to do was wait, and be ready.

  A human, or any other fatae, might ignore the rumor, or deny it, or even become violent in his or her defense. A ki-rin, accused even by whisper of lying, would be so deeply and personally insulted that there would be no other option but to respond to that accusation. Once it did that, we would be in the position to ask questions it either could not answer, or would expose the entire plot.

  We might not be able to put any of them in jail, but everyone involved would be exposed for what they were—not victims, not noble creatures, but killers for hire. We were doing good work.

  So why did it leave such a nasty taste in my mouth? I took another sip of my beer, hoping to wash the taste of ashes away. We were almost done.

  “Seriously,” Pietr went on, readying the hook the same way I’d done with Madame, “it’s so obvious the ki-rin was covering for whatever the girl did, but—”

  “You lie!”

  Maybe we’d set the hook a little too hard, as Pietr’s target got physical. I barely had time to duck before a fist about the size of a Virginia ham came slamming down on the bar next to me, knocking over my beer and sending the liquid in a foamy rush down the bar.

  I noted, almost absently, that the bar had a definite slant in the middle, making all the beer run into the channel. I wondered if that was planned, to make sure customers didn’t wet themselves after a few taps too many, and then I was heading for the floor, looking for cover.

  “You lie, you stinking human gutter-trash!”

  Pietr, of course, had disappeared. I swore once, but my heart wasn’t in it. It was instinct for him, he didn’t mean to run out on the fight, really. Not that his intentions, or lack thereof, helped me a bit.

  “You shouldn’t eavesdrop if you don’t want to hear unpleasant things,” I told the fatae. A particularly normal-looking specimen, if you ignored the fact that it had a beak like a squid’s instead of a nose. I had absolutely no idea what breed it was, and didn’t particularly care.

  “Take it back!”

  “The hell I will. The ki-rin lied!”

  Oops. I had been the one arguing against the ki-rin lying. Pietr had been the one saying it had. Oh, well. I didn’t think my pugilistic dance buddy cared who had
been saying what, anyway. All us be-nosed humans probably looked alike to it, anyway.

  It took another swing at me, and missed, the attempted roundhouse almost coming back and clocking it in the face. Long arms and poor depth perception did not a good brawler make. Also, I suspected it had been there drinking for a while before we arrived.

  “You break it, you pay for it,” the bartender said, barely looking up from his papers. I ducked under another wild swing, and tried to see if anyone else was going to come join the dance. There were three fatae sitting at a nearby table, watching, but they didn’t seem inclined to do anything, and the human in the corner was carefully not seeing a thing. If I wanted to, I could just head for the door; Pietr would get out on his own. No part of the deal had involved getting a concussion; our medical plan sucked. I judged the dash I’d have to make past my dance buddy to get to the door, then abandoned the idea. The hook wasn’t set yet. It was more than just making sure the suggestion took, there was a “tag” on it, a sort of sticky-note made of current. A Talent might notice it, if they were the suspicious type, but only if they were looking. Nulls and fatae should be oblivious, heeding the urge to pass it on to whomever they mentioned the rumor to, passing it along like a cold virus.

  “Stinkin’ lyin’ humans, tryin’ to drive us out of town…”

  Sounded like our unfriendly neighborhood bigots had been priming the pump for us. Good. Or: not good, but useful. The fatae took another swing, and I ducked inside rather than away, getting right up in his face.

  The smell of fish and stale beer almost knocked me over, but I leaned in anyway, and whispered, “The ki-rin lied.”

  Tag.

  The fatae snarled, even as I tried to duck back away, and those overlong arms clobbered me good. The room spun, and I swayed, just as a bottle came down on the back of squid-nose’s head. He fell forward onto the barstool and crumpled to the ground. Pietr stood there, blinking at me and grinning lopsidedly. “I think we’re done here.”

  Two down, four to go.

  thirteen