Cloak Games: Shatter Stone

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I was seeing someone,” I said. “It didn’t exactly work out.” I wasn’t about to tell him that my first boyfriend had been the leader of a Rebel cell. “Right now, I’m seeing someone new.” I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that my boyfriend was a hired assassin and a Shadow Hunter. “And if you’re asking for yourself…well, that’s very kind, but the age difference might be a problem.”

  Hakon snorted. “A clever answer. But I am occasionally witty myself. The reason you are not married, Miss Moran, is because of Russell’s frostfever.”

  That was much closer to the truth than I liked.

  “I know frostfever,” said Hakon. “I saw many cases of it during the High Queen’s war against the frost giants in the Shadowlands. Many of my friends died from it. I know that there is no cure, save a powerful and complex spell that only the strongest Elven wizards can cast. Lord Morvilind is one such wizard. Russell’s frostfever should have killed him years ago. Yet Lord Morvilind is casting the cure spell upon him. Why?”

  I still said nothing.

  “He casts the spell,” said Hakon, “in exchange for work you do for him. Which I suspect is not, in the end, web programming.”

  I considered my answer, my fingers tapping against the warm curve of my cup of coffee. Hakon had puzzled out the truth, but I don’t think he had figured out that I could use magic and that I stole things for Morvilind. If he had, he would have called the Inquisition then and there.

  Or maybe he was smarter than that. Maybe he knew better than to pry too much. Kaethran Morvilind was many things, most of them terrifying, and he would not tolerate anyone meddling in his affairs.

  “You realize,” I said, “that Lord Morvilind would be furious if I discussed his business with anyone.”

  “Of course,” said Hakon. “But that is not the point. Your brother knows that he owes you his life. I think he has known it for a long time, and he is driven to prove himself worthy. He will always be an outsider, yes, but that can have its own strength. I suspect Russell will do great things if he lives long enough, and at the very least he will become quite wealthy.” He shrugged. “Certainly, he will be able to take care of Lydia and her children.”

  I took a sip of coffee to cover my hesitation as I wrestled with the idea, watching Russell as he helped Lydia reload her rifle. Russell would never be a man-at-arms, thanks to the damage the frostfever had done to his physical stamina. But he was involved in every possible club he could join at school. I had seen him around his friends, how they all gravitated towards him, how his natural charm let him take command of a social situation.

  Hell. Russell was smart, wasn’t he? On the day of the Archon attack, he had talked me into taking him to the Ducal Mall so he could ask out Lydia. He had also kept his head during the battle. Which, in turn, was the reason I was sitting here talking with an old man who was much more perceptive than I might wish, who had already guessed more about me than I wanted, and who might guess even more.

  For a vicious moment, I wished that we had left Lydia to die at the Ducal Mall. Then I wouldn’t face the danger that Hakon Valborg might figure out what I really was. A burst of guilt followed the thought. I couldn’t go around just murdering people because it was convenient. Riordan had pointed out that I tended to use saving Russell’s life as a justification for ruthlessness, and he had a point. I had almost murdered Alexandra Ross simply because she had been slowing me down, and if I had done that, the Knight of Grayhold would have let the anthrophages kill me.

  And Russell would have died once Morvilind stopped casting his cure spells.

  “You have become very quiet,” said Hakon.

  “Just thinking about learning things the hard way,” I said.

  Hakon snorted. “The best lessons are learned that way.”

  “I think all my lessons have been hard ones,” I said. “You’re right, you know.”

  He lifted his white eyebrows. “About what?”

  “My brother,” I said. “He is special. Even if he’ll never be a man-at-arms.”

  Hakon nodded. “So, I have no opposition to their dating at this time. Lydia’s parents agree.”

  Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Because you’ll tell them what to think?”

  “Certainly not,” said Hakon. “Lukas and Charlotte may form their own opinions.”

  “By heeding the wisdom of their elders?” I said.

  “You have something of a smart mouth,” said Hakon.

  I grinned. “Wait until you really get to know me.”

  That actually wrung a laugh from the grim old man.

  ###

  Later Hakon took Lydia home, and I drove Russell back to the Marneys’ house.

  I would have preferred to take my Royal Motors NX-9 sportsbike, but it was the middle of February in Wisconsin, and the middle of February in Wisconsin is not motorcycle weather. The temperature had gotten above ten degrees Fahrenheit once in the last week.

  I had gone through (and trashed) a lot of cars during my time working for Lord Morvilind, and I was currently driving an old Lone Star Motors Vaquero sedan. All the dashboard instruments were labeled in Spanish, but since I could read Spanish, that was all right.

  I really didn’t like the cold. You’d think I’d be used to it since I had lived in Wisconsin since Morvilind had brought me here from Seattle fifteen years ago. I had on thermal underwear, black jeans, heavy black boots, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a black puffy coat that I didn’t like because it kind of made me look obese, a hat, and a scarf, and I was still cold, even with the heater on. Maybe if I survived, if Morvilind kept his word and healed Russell, I would move to Los Angeles or Arizona or someplace that had beautiful hot, dry weather.

  Well. Maybe not Los Angeles. Too many bad memories there.

  “So,” I said, the car crunching over the packed snow covering the street. “Did you and Lydia have a good time?”

  Russell smiled. “What do you think? You watched us.”

  “You looked like you were having fun,” I said. “Either that or you were both acting. I don’t think reloading someone else’s gun is a fun time, but what do I know?”

  Russell laughed. “Lydia knows how to reload her rifle. She just thinks I don’t know that, so she lets me do it for her, so I feel useful.”

  I snorted. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  Russell shrugged. “If she didn’t want to spend time with me, she would load her own rifle and tell me to go away.”

  We were at a red light, so I watched him for a moment. Russell looked a lot like me, except considerably taller (which was annoying), and sharper, leaner features thanks to the frostfever. The frostfever had also turned his hair stark white, and he liked to say it made him look like a malevolent creature from an old pre-Conquest fairy tale.

  I had spent my life to save Russell, and I didn’t regret it. Granted, I had made the choice as a child of five before I could even begin to understand the consequences, but even knowing what I knew now I still would have made the same decision.

  But I had never paused to consider what kind of man he would become. I was shocked to realize he was only a few years away from becoming a man. In another four years…no, three and a half years, he would be old enough to vote. Not that voting changed anything, not when the High Queen ruled everything. But in three and a half years, he would have been old enough to become a man-at-arms, had he been healthy. He would be a legal adult, and he could do whatever he wanted.

  “But she doesn’t,” I said at last.

  “No,” said Russell, grinning. “She doesn’t. She likes me.” He shrugged. “I know I’m fourteen and that I should be scared of girls and all that…but I’m not. Knowing that frostfever could kill you puts things in perspective, doesn’t it? Or that a bunch of orcish mercenaries could pop out of a magical gate and shoot you.”

  “That only happened to you once,” I said. The light finally changed, and I eased the Vaquero over the slippery road.

  “True,” said
Russell. “It could happen again, you know? Or we could slip off the road and hit a tree or something.”

  “Is that a criticism of my driving?”

  “My point is that we could all die at any time for any reason,” said Russell. “Most people don’t like to think about that. Some of the veteran men-at-arms do. One of my teachers, Mr. Vander, the shop teacher, I think he understands. But most people don’t like to think about the fact that we could die at any time for any reason.” He shrugged. “But I understand that because of the frostfever. I think you know it too, because of the stuff Lord Morvilind makes you do.”

  “Yeah,” I said in a quiet voice. “We probably shouldn’t talk about that. It might get both of us killed.”

  Russell nodded. “I know what you’ve done for me, Nadia.” I blinked. He sounded so serious. It made him seem older. “I’ll repay you someday. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find a way to repay you.”

  I blinked again. My eyes were stinging a little.

  “Hell, Russell,” I said.

  “You shouldn’t swear.”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” I said. “I mean…I didn’t do it for a reward. I did it. That’s all there is to it. If you want to repay me, go have a nice peaceful life and have a bunch of kids. They can look after me when I’m old.”

  Assuming I lived that long. Of all the things I worried about, dying of old age was not one of them. It was more likely I would get killed by a falling meteor.

  “I'm going to do something great,” said Russell. “I’m just not sure what it is yet. I have some ideas. But I’m not sure which one I’m going to do.”

  “Aren’t you being all mysterious?” I said.

  “Actually, I’m kind of hungry,” he said.

  “Seriously? You just had lunch.”

  “I’m a growing boy,” Russell said. “I need nourishment to keep my strength up.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that. I had known that teenage boys tended to eat a lot, but I hadn’t understood the reality until the first time I had opened the Marneys’ fridge and realized that Russell had eaten everything I had been saving for lunch. The frostfever also did something to his metabolism, driving it up higher than it should have been, which was another reason he would never be a man-at-arms.

  “You can wait until supper,” I said.

  “You’ll be there?” said Russell.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Lord Morvilind doesn’t have anything for me to do, and I’m good with money for a while.” That was a polite way of saying I wouldn’t have to steal anything to pay my bills. Morvilind and his retainers had taught me many useful skills, but most of them did not translate to a regular wage. For that matter, Riordan was out of town, and he didn’t think he would be back for another week. Not that I put my boyfriend before the Marneys, but I did like spending time with him.

  “No Riordan?” said Russell.

  “Afraid not,” I said.

  “Pity,” said Russell. “You always stare at him with these big shining eyes. It’s kind of fun to watch.”

  I glared at him. “I do not.”

  “Do too.”

  “Do not.”

  “Like you don’t ogle Lydia,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t ogle,” said Russell. “I regard her with the appreciation that she merits.”

  I snorted. “Good answer.”

  “That,” said Russell, “and if I did ogle her, her grandfather would probably take offense.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Scary old guy, isn’t he?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be scared of him,” said Russell, a little surprised. “After all the things…well, you know.”

  I saw his point.

  “He was in the Wizard’s Legion,” I said, “and he’s over seventy years old. That meant he survived his terms of service in the Wizard’s Legion and got to retire. That means he’s one hell of a fighter…”

  “Language,” said Russell.

  I ignored the interruption. “And that means if we got into a fight, he would kick my ass. And, yes, that is the only way to describe it, bad language or not.”

  “Then don’t get into a fight with him.”

  “My point,” I said, “is that it’s only sensible to be a little frightened of Hakon Valborg. You should be, too, seeing as you’re attempting to seduce his granddaughter.”

  “I’m not seducing her,” said Russell with quiet calm.

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  “I’m dating her,” said Russell. He smiled. “Seduction is merely a subset of the totality.”

  I snorted. “Promise me you won’t be a lawyer.”

  “And there is no way I would…um, take liberties with Lydia while Mr. Valborg was watching,” said Russell.

  “Smart kid,” I said. I hesitated. “He said something else…”

  “What’s that?” said Russell.

  “He pointed out that you were going to always be an outsider,” I said. “Maybe not an outcast, but definitely an outsider.”

  “Well, obviously,” said Russell, tapping his white hair. “I look like Father Christmas, and I’m fourteen years old.”

  “Does it…” I wasn’t good at this kind of thing. I had once seen a Department of Education video explaining that women were naturally at ease in the home sphere because we’re more in touch with our feelings, but I don’t know if that was true. I had spent more time learning to steal and shoot and cast spells than getting in touch with my feelings, and when I did get in touch with my feelings, it was because I was pissed off and wanted to hurt someone. “Does it bother you?”

  “Sometimes,” said Russell, “but not really. I mean…the Marneys are kind of outsiders, aren’t they?”

  “How?” I said. The Marneys went to church every week, paid their taxes, had a portrait of the High Queen on the wall, and held full-time jobs. People like them were the backbone of the country.

  “Because they don’t have kids of their own,” said Russell. “You know how it is. You’re supposed to be a man-at-arms for six years, come back, get hitched, and have a bunch of kids. The other women at church and work sometimes whisper about it behind Lucy’s back.”

  “Oh.” I had never thought about it, but it made sense.

  “But they’ve saved a lot of lives between them,” said Russell. “I mean, James is a doctor and Lucy is a nurse. I bet after the Archon attack they saved hundreds of people who would have died. Maybe you have to be an outsider to do something amazing…and I want to do something amazing.” He rubbed his stomach. “But only after supper. Are you sure we can’t stop for a snack?”

  I snorted. “Priorities.”

  We drove the rest of the way to the Marneys’ house. It had a small front yard with a well-tended garden, currently buried under a lot of snow, and a flagpole over the front door flew the colors of the High Queen, the United States, and the House of Morvilind. A little wooden mailbox (hand-crafted, of course) said MARNEYS on the side, icicles hanging from its side. I suppose I could have parked on the street, but the snow was piled so high that there was barely one lane for traffic, so I eased the old Vaquero into the driveway. I would have to move it once the Marneys got home so they could get into the garage.

  Russell climbed out of the car. “I’ll start on supper. We can have it waiting when they come home. Steak?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Don’t eat it all.”

  Russell vanished through the patio door and into the kitchen.

  I got out, opened my puffy coat long enough to fish out my phone, and glanced at it. No new messages and calls, which was good, and it was late enough that James and Lucy would show up at any minute. I might as well wait a little while. I really wanted a cigarette, but (perhaps fortunately) I didn’t have any. Cigarettes were on the list of restricted items that were sold only to former men-at-arms. James had some, but I wasn’t about to steal from him.

  As the thought crossed my mind, I saw a man walking down the sidewalk.

  He looked familiar
.

  The man was tall and lean, and wore a green jacket, jeans, and battered steel-toed work boots. He had dark blond hair tied into a ponytail and a close-cropped blond beard, his eyes a bright shade of blue. Oddly, he wasn’t wearing a hat or scarf or even gloves, but the cold did not seem to discomfort him.

  The man stopped at the end of the driveway and looked at me with a smile. Maybe he wanted to hit on me. I started to say something acerbic to put him off, and then his blue eyes met mine.

  A horrified jolt of recognition shot through me.

  I knew this man. I had met him on one of the most dangerous days of my life, and I owed him a favor.

  Which was bad, because he was one of the most powerful people I had ever met.

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh, hell.”

  “Hello, darling,” said the Knight of Grayhold in his deep drawl. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

  Chapter 2: The Knight’s Vassals

  I started at him, my brain frozen up with horror, and then it started working again, and my horror turned into confusion.

  “Ah,” said the Knight. “There it is.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Wait a minute. You can’t be here.”

  The Knight spread his hands. “Yet here I am, darling.”

  “Don’t call me darling,” I said, and he smiled. “You told me that the Knight could not leave his demesne of Grayhold. Everything I’ve ever heard says that a lord of the Shadowlands has supreme power in his demesne, but can never leave it.”

  “I didn’t lie,” said the Knight. “Best not to establish a reputation for lying. It can come back to haunt you.”

  Was that an insult? I thought it was a dig. I decided to ignore it. I had bigger problems, like the fact that the Knight of freaking Grayhold was standing on the Marneys’ front walk.

  Except he couldn’t be standing here. Either that meant he was powerful enough to ignore all the laws of magic I had learned, he had found a loophole in those laws, or…

  My frown tightened.