Laverty nodded in reluctant agreement. "If I'm to help you find the thieves, I need to know what you know about them."
Urdli revealed what he had learned from following the thieves' backtrail through the shadows of Perth. His informants had been persuaded to part with all they knew, but their stores of data had proven pitiful. He had gotten descriptions and learned the street names of the surviving thieves. As he had hoped, Laverty recognized them.
"Gray Otter is a street samurai of reliable reputation, young but experienced. Competent as well. She has on occasion run shadow business with Twist in recent months. I would assume she is only a hireling in this matter.'' Laverty paused, as though unsure how to continue. Urdli became more alert, knowing he must listen carefully and be prepared for half-truths. "Twist is the street name of Samuel Verner, a former researcher for Renraku Corporation. He was here shortly after escaping his corporation's care, and was just coming into his magical powers. While he was here, I performed a series of tests to measure his magical ability. From the results, I would not have believed he had the strength to remove the guardian Stone. At that time he did not wish to believe he was a magician."
"Perhaps you were misled," Urdli suggested. "Whoever breached the well has embraced magic wholeheartedly, for only a powerful magician could have unlocked the spells holding die capstone in place."
Laverty seemed to consider the possibility. When he spoke, it was as though he were unintentionally voicing his thoughts rather than making a deliberate statement. "If it were he, and not someone or something in disguise."
"I will know him when I taste his aura. But I am confident that whoever removed the stone was of the brood of mankind. We need look to no greater conspiracy.''
Laverty nodded slowly. "Perhaps you are right. But I wonder. Verner has turned out to be a Dog shaman. As you know, Dog demands vigilance against evil magic. Evil in this context being most easily defined as magic that would harm mankind. Last year in England, he and some of my agents were involved in an affair that fit that bill to a tee. It seems unlikely that Verner would voluntarily open Rachnei's well."
This defense of the thief was unseemly. Urdli began to wonder if he had made a mistake in confiding his dishonor to Laverty. "Voluntarily or not, he has done it, and we must deal with the consequences. I would not like to learn that he has fallen under Rachnei's influence."
"I don't think so," Laverty said firmly. "Were it so, I believe I would have been forewarned."
Urdli understood. "Then you have an observer and know where Verner is to be found."
"Oh, yes."
"Tell me," Urdli demanded, knowing he had no authority to command Laverty's compliance. "My honor demands that I seek him out."
"Tb what end? Do you intend to kill him?"
"He must pay for what he has done."
"Recovering the stone is more important," Laverty reminded him.
"That is my first priority," Urdli said.
"If you can regain the stone, you have no need to kill Verner. Likely, he will give you. the stone if you ask for it, and offer to help set it back in place. I think he acted in ignorance, though I'm sure he has a reason for what he has done."
"What reason could be good enough?"
"Of that I'm unsure. I, too, would like to know. So much puzzles me about that man."
As always, Laverty's curiosity got in the way of necessary ends. "Puzzles are an idle man's pursuit, and I can no longer be idle. I must not rest until the stone is recovered and we know where this man stands in regard to Rachnei. Tell me where to find Verner."
The address Laverty gave him meant nothing, but the library's computer held maps.
Dodger forced his perception out of cyberspace. Normally the consensual hallucination by which meat operators could deal with the intricacies and machine speeds of the Matrix was advantageous. But his investigations were anything but normal, and his usual working methods had become something of a liability. To make sense of the shifts in some of the icons he was perceiving would take seeing real numbers and machine code. He thought he knew what was causing the shifts, but wasn't sure. He suspected that the shifts were signs that the AI was out there. Once, it had made the Ren-raku matrix shimmer with mirror planes of infinity and had ghosted icons to evanescent translucency. The shifts he was observing could be within its power.
It was out there. It had to be.
Hours evaporated as he studied the data he had snagged during the run. Periodically, he connected his deck to the Matrix for short, directed research runs.
His latest cup of kaf grew chill, becoming just another in the row of forgotten cups. His neck muscles cramped into iron stiffness. Each lead only unfolded into more perplexing possibilities, leaving him frustrated, intrigued, irritated, and fascinated. His absorption was so intense that he only became aware of the telecom after it had been chirping for some time.
He didn't want to be disturbed, but hadn't thought it necessary to inform the telecom's dog-brain to hold calls because so few people knew his current comm code. Now someone wanted to talk to him. Suddenly aware of his own physical discomfort, he was even less interested in interfacing with anyone. The telecom continued to chirp. The caller was persistent. Ah, well. He was already disturbed. And he was getting nowhere at the moment. He hit the "Save" key on his cyberdeck to hold his current position. Just as well. He would be better off doing some thinking before pursuing the search. Tugging the datacord from his temple jack with one hand, Dodger reached across with the other to tap the Tel button to open the line to his caller.
The screen glowed to life and the slender, worried face of Teresa O'Connor sharpened into focus. This disturbance disrupted more than just his work. Buried feelings stirred, and he knew himself vulnerable again. ' 'Dodger? You look like hell." "Ah, lady, and a fine day to you, too. I thought you didn't wish to speak with me." "I never said that."
Was that hurt in her expression? Or annoyance that he should presume to know her desires? "You made your position clear when you left London with Estios. He is well, I trust."
"Well enough. He doesn't throw things at the mention of your name anymore." "Nor any less, I expect. But I am unkind. I am sure your gentle influence has soothed his raging spirit. He treats you well?"
"Dodger, I don't want to talk about this."
"Very well, lady." He didn't really, either, but somehow his bitterness had spewed forth. "As ever, I cannot refuse your wish."
"That's drek, Dodger," she said, without heat. "We both know better than that."
He deliberately ignored what could be construed as an invitation to intimate discussion. As little as he wished to discuss what was, he desired even less to dredge up what might have been. " Tis you who placed the call. A situation of some gravity must portend. If so, I shall listen. But if 'tis of little import, I shall be distressed, for I have other matters pressing."
"Hope Twist isn't involved in them."
When that seemed all she was willing to say, he prompted, "Why, pray tell?"
"Your friend's in a lot of trouble."
Again she fell silent after a single portentous, yet uninformative, statement. Given the source of the call, however, Dodger thought he knew just what kind of trouble she meant. How had Estios found out what was going down tonight? That effing tight-assed elf had sworn to kill Janice just because she was a wendigo. How long had he known she was in Council lands? Was he going to disrupt the ritual?
"How did he find out?"
Teresa looked surprised. "You know about him already?"
"Of course, I… backspace. This isn't about Estios, is it? Who are you talking about, Teresa?"
She ran her tongue across her upper lip, reminding him of other times. She looked worried, almost as though she wanted to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching, but her discipline wouldn't allow it. Still, the rigidity of her stance told him that this was very serious business.
"I'd rather not name him," she said. "Especially on this line. Call him an
old friend of the professor." He had been right about the seriousness. Dodger had had more than enough of the professor's old friends years ago. Most of the time they were trouble, even when they were on your side. "Tell me the tale."
"This, ah, person, thinks Twist stole something from him, some kind of magical guardian stone. I don't have the details, but it involves a certain something that came out of a well. I'm not sure what this person plans to do once he hunts Twist down, but I think he's going to kill your friend. This person's honor has been stained."
Guardian stones and wells. That spoke of magic and affairs Dodger understood only vaguely. One thing he appreciated was that this matter touched on the dark doings of the professor's connections. Whoever this mysterious person was, he would be a magician and someone dangerous to cross. Sam Verner, as usual, had stepped into drek and sunk in over his head. Everything Dodger could learn, anything Teresa would tell him, increased Sam's chances. "Might you describe this person, that I would know him when I see him?"
"On this line? No more than to say he's Australian. I'll send you a package. But you'd best get moving. He just left for Seattle.''
That was the first good part of the conversation. "Well, he's headed in the wrong direction. Twist has some business out of town and he's left the plex already. ''
Teresa did not look relieved. "He won't give up easily."
"Do they ever? Fear not, I shall get word to Twist."
"Be careful, Dodger. This person may not care who gets in his way.''
Her voice sounded sincere, and matched her expression of distressed concern. But how could she be truly troubled? She had made her decision, and he was not her choice. "Your anxiety is touching, fair damsel.
Spare no care for my safety. Having had experience of the professor's friends and their honor, I shall be excessively careful. Twist will get word tonight, just before he leaves on a long, unscheduled vacation."
The night was already cooling down, with the sun gone behind the cone of Mount Rainier for more than half an hour. With the moon climbing in the sky, the time was fast approaching.
Sam tried to ignore the sounds of argument coming from the other side of the rocks, but RikM Ratboy's shrill tones made it difficult. The weedy street shaman was trying to justify backing out on his promise to help with the ritual. Hart's soft but firm voice was pointing out that if Rikki intended to welsh on a promise, she would make sure that everyone on the street heard about it. In reply, Rikki wailed that he had been tricked into promising.
Rikki was all bluff. His noise hadn't started until Janice and Ghost had arrived. One look at the wendigo had set the Rat shaman off. If Manx had reservations about focusing the ritual on a wendigo, she hadn't revealed them. If she objected, it would have given Rikki the encouragement he wanted, and both the street shamans would now be long gone. As long as Manx was willing, Sam was sure that Rikki would stay. The Rat shaman wouldn't want to lose face in front of anyone, especially a Cat shaman.
Rikki and Manx would join Sam in performing the transformation ritual tonight. Their mix of totems might be odd, but the traditional rivalries of the animals were no bar to their working together. A shaman's totem demanded much, but never that his followers act out predator-prey relationships or territorial disputes. Perhaps it was an expression of the ultimate cosmic harmony as some claimed, but Sam merely accepted the arrangement without puzzling over the why and wherefore.
Tonight, however, he was glad of it. Rikki and Manx might not be the most powerful shamans on the Northwest coast, but he was sure they could handle their assigned parts in the ritual. In approaching them, Sam had hoped their curiosity and greed for the knowledge he offered would be motivation enough to keep quiet. Like all street magicians, they were avid for new magic, that edge that would let them spike the competition for choice assignments in the shadow trade. Manx, anyway, would have kept the preparations for tonight secret, for she was a living embodiment of Cat's obsessive secrecy. But secrecy was a transient need. After tonight Janice would be cured, and it wouldn't matter anymore. If Rikki talked then, fine.
Only the three shamans would be involved in the ritual. Father Rinaldi would have been glad to assist, but he also pointed out that it would stretch the ritual team's resources to protect him, a virtual mundane. Sam had reluctantly agreed to construct the workings without including the priest, but he worried that without Rinaldi's store of knowledge, he wouldn't be informed enough to deal with any unexpected ripples in the mana flow. But the priest had come to the mountain anyway, as moral support prior to the actual working. When the time came he would take his place in one of the carefully chosen lookout points around the perimeter.
Hart would be out there, too. They had all decided that the magic would be purer without mixing her hermetic tradition into the basically shamanic ritual. Pure magic was strong magic, and Sam wanted all the strength he could get into tonight's. He wished he knew more shamans he could trust even as far as he did Rikki and Manx, but those two would be all the help he had tonight.
At least they wouldn't be disturbed. Father Rinaldi professed no particular skill as a scout, but the priest was acutely observant, and his astral sight would be an invaluable aid. Then there were Hart, Ghost, and Gray Otter, all professionals. No Council troops would approach unseen.
Forcing away his worries and concerns, Sam returned his concentration to what he was doing. Colored sand dribbled from his fingers to fall to the ground, each grain taking its place in a growing, intricate pattern. The site would be ready soon, but only barely soon enough. He'd spent most of the last two days here, laying out the patterns with Father Rinaldi's help and consecrating the site in preparation for the ritual. The sand paintings were the last step, and they could not have been done before tonight.
The priest finished his inspection of the clearing and. came up behind Sam. "The paintings look good." "I guess so. I'm not much of an artist." "The intent and the symbolism are more important than the rendering." Rinaldi laid an encouraging hand on Sam's shoulder. "The picture is fine."
Sam frowned. "I wish we didn't need to put Raven in it. He's Trickster as well as Transformer."
"This is not the time to reopen that discussion. Raven is a powerful totem, especially here in the Northwest of North America. We designed this ritual to incorporate as many elements as possible from as many traditions as could be brought together. Raven belongs here." ,"I know." Sam let the last of the black sand dribble from his fingers, completing the dark image of the bird.
"I'm just nervous, I guess. Want everything to go right."
"So do we all, Sam.'' Rinaldi scanned the sky. ' 'It's almost time."
Sam checked the height of the orange moon and nodded. He stared at it for a minute, massaging cramped muscles, then gathered his jars of sand back into their carrying case. By the time he'd stowed the case in his pack Rinaldi was gone, and the clearing was quiet except for the night sounds.
Sam whispered the words that would set the first glimmers of power alight in the medicine circle. A faint glow, all but lost in the growing moonlight, suffused the clearing. The ritual ground was five meters across, its boundary marked by a ring of small stones. Smaller shapes lay just inside the ring at each of the cardinal points. At the northern point was a bare, circular patch of ground on which sat a tall ritual drum. The southern point had a similar patch, but this one contained a multicolored rug on which lay a long wooden flute. The eastern area was a man-sized and -shaped outline of stones, head to the center. The western shape was the same, but the outline was half again as large. A third bare patch, bounded by a ring of red sand, lay in the middle of the ring like a hub. In its center, marking the heart of the medicine circle, sat the opal Sam had taken from the cave, aglow with moonlight and magic. Between the central patch and each of the outer areas was a circular sand painting.
The soft padding of footsteps sounded from the path as the other shamans entered the clearing and nodded their readiness to Sam. He nodded back. Rikki stepped into th
e medicine ring and took his place in the drum circle. Rikki's music, unlike Rinaldi's accompaniment to Sam's astral voyage, would not be simply for mood. Tonight's music would have its own magic. Manx entered the flute circle and seated herself on the rug. She arranged her long black hair over the shawl around her shoulders and settled her necklaces and pendants to her satisfaction before picking up the flute.
Starting from the feet of the larger outline, Sam walked halfway around the outside of the great circle, chanting the. opening song of the ritual. At the smaller outline he pivoted and completed the circle backward. Rikki began a steady drumbeat, and Sam repeated bis course. This time he added extra steps, making his progress a solemn dance. Manx's haunting flute music accompanied the third circumnavigation of the ring, and Sam's steps became quicker. The glow of the magelight grew stronger with each pass until the clearing was nearly as bright as day.
Chanting, Sam entered the medicine circle at the feet of the large outline, crossing it and a band of red sand that bisected the sand painting to reach the center. He paused to touch the opal, then continued on, crossing a second sand painting and the smaller outline. At its foot and still within the outer ring, he crouched facing the center, changing the chant to the calling song.
Opposite him, outside the circle, Janice stepped out of the darkness.
"Welcome, Wolf," he said. "Join us in our magic." "Willingly," she replied, then stepped over the boundary rocks and into the larger outline. She lay down on her back, head toward the center of the ring. Sam walked the inner boundary of the circle to close it magically. Then he walked around Janice, sprinkling her with herbs to complete the seal. Returning to the central area, he sealed himself in.
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