Find Your Own Truth

by Robert N. Charrette

  The red-headed elf advanced across the room, a smile on his broad face and his arms held wide in greeting. “It’s been years, my friend. What brings you to the Tir, whispering of secrets and looking so grim?” Urdli stood, his erect stance rebuffing the familiarity of Laverty’s greeting. With a slight inclination of his head, Urdli indicated Estios and O’Connor. The young elves had not left him alone since he had installed himself in the library. “These are to stay?”

  Laverty put on an affronted expression, but Urdli knew him well enough to see that it was only half-serious. “They are my best and most loyal. Should intervention be needed, they would be my agents of choice. I think it best that they hear your story for themselves.”

  “Ah, they are your paladins.”

  This time Laverty’s annoyed expression was for real. “I don’t require the outmoded oaths, so I don’t use the word. I leave such pointless fripperies to blow-hards like Ehran.”

  “Unconventional as always, Laverty.”

  Laverty’s irritation vanished when he laughed. “You should talk. Expedience rules all, does it not, Urdli? But you surely did not come to discuss my staffing arrangements What is the problem?”

  Urdli got right to the point. “There has been a raid on Imiri ti-Versakiian.”

  Laverty’s light tone vanished. “How bad?”

  “Three of the wells are empty.”

  “Only three? It could have been worse.”

  “Rachnei’s well was one of the three. The raiders stole the guardian stone.”

  “That is worse.” Laverty sat and clasped his hands together, forefingers straight and pointing toward the ceiling. He lowered his head until his forehead touched the erect fingers, then tapped them against his brow in a steady rhythm. “What were the other two?”

  “Minor nuisances only." Urdli replied, returning to his chair. “They do not concern me at this time, for they will not come to power for some years. If we are diligent, we might contain them again before they cause much mischief.”

  Laverty looked up. “Do you see a plan in the releases?”

  “If you fear the old foes are at work, think again. Rachnei is no more their friend than ours. The release will mean as much trouble for them as for us. Were the raid part of a plot to ensnare our assets, the thieves would have arranged a more systematic release from the wells in order to more fully occupy us.”

  “Cultists, then?”

  Urdli shook his head dismissively. “I think not. There was no evidence of an attempt to control the release. Cultists would not be so naive. Whoever was involved has no idea what Rachnei is.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Urdli shrugged. “There is no surety, only strong probabilities. Still, there may be a way to restore the balance.”

  Laverty looked doubtful. “If Rachnei has reabsorbed the facet, I doubt the mana is high enough to sunder it again, let alone bind it back into the well. Even if it were possible, you couldn’t do it alone. You’d need powerful help. Why haven't you gone to the Shidhe or made a direct plea to the Council?”

  “You know the answer to that. The Shidhe are lost in their dreams, and I will have no dealings with your Council as long as that dragon sits on it.”

  “I can understand your not wanting Lofwyr to know, but the others have a right, and a need, to know. The despoiling of Rachnei’s well will affect us all in the long run, elf and non-elf. Containing the danger will require all available magic to succeed. A lot more power than I remember your being able to wield.” The ease with which Laverty dismissed his power rankled, but the evaluation was correct. “1 am aware of how much power is involved. You counsel expedience in place of honor.”

  “I seem to recall you preferred the direct approach to the niceties of politics in your younger days.”

  “As I do still. If the facet remains unabsorbed and the opportunity arises to bind it into the well again, I will not object to assembling the others to do what will be necessary. Until then, I wish a chance to redeem my honor.”

  “Honor, is it?” Laverty’s mouth quirked up on one side. “I hope your honor isn’t going to blind you to necessity. I see no way to restore the balance at this time. With the well empty, we had best brace for the storm. Spreading the word seems the only reasonable course.”

  Urdli frowned. “And you would have me shout of the failure at Imiri ti-Versakhan, that all should know of that place. What of that which lies there still? Do you wish attention called to that?”

  For several moments Laverty said nothing. Then, “I see. What do you want me to do?”

  “I would rather the circle of those who know remain small as yet. I fear that you may be right, that I delude myself into believing that the balance can be restored.

  I had hoped that you and your library might be a resource to answer that question. You have been more in the world than I and have a better understanding of the manifestations of the mana in the Sixth World. Even if the facet may not be riven again and secreted away, I still believe that the guardian stone can be used to combat Rachnei. We must recover the stone.”

  “You have access to other libraries. Why do you involve me and come to mine?”

  “There is an element of convenience. I have traced the remaining thieves to this continent. More precisely, I believe they lair in the metroplex to the north. As to why I have involved you, that should be obvious. You have many contacts here in the Americas, and it is a land I no longer know well. Your guidance would be invaluable. Time is fleeting. I must recover the stone before the thieves unravel the matrix of its magic.”

  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 the 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 1 seek him out.”

  “To 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.

  12

  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 Renraku 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. Tagging 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 frend 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.”

  13

  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.

  Sa
m tried to ignore the sounds of argument coming from the other side of the rocks, but Rikki 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.