Or he wasn’t here at all.
I looked at the sidewalk behind him. His heavy boots should have left tracks in the snow, but I didn’t see any trace of his footsteps. He was a big man, with a lot of muscle, and there was no way he could have crossed the snow without leaving tracks.
“Almost there,” murmured the Knight.
I scowled, walked in front of him, and poked his chest. He certainly felt solid enough. In fact, my finger slipped through the front of his coat and tapped the T-shirt he wore beneath it, a T-shirt over what felt like some hard muscles…
Stop it.
I had a boyfriend. Riordan MacCormac was a Shadow Hunter, which I suppose most people would have found frightening, but the man standing before me was the Knight of Grayhold, a lord of the Shadowlands, a creature of terrible power and strength. Having any sort of attraction to him was stark madness and would probably contribute to a rapid death.
I stepped back, took a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, and cast a spell. It was the spell to sense the presence of magical forces, and as I expected, I detected absolutely nothing.
Except, of course, for the Knight himself. He all but blazed with illusion magic.
“It’s a spell,” I said. “An illusion spell. You’re not here.” I poked his chest again. “This is…some kind of projection. A really good one. Sight, sound, touch…but you can’t make illusionary tracks in the snow.”
“I could,” said the Knight with a smile. “But it would be a waste of power, and this takes enough magic as it is.”
“So, you’re trapped in the demesne of Grayhold,” I said, “but you can send spells outside the boundaries of the demesne?”
“Sometimes,” said the Knight. “And with only certain spells. It takes a great deal of magical power.”
“How much magical power?” I said.
“A whole whale of a lot,” said the Knight.
I frowned at him, and he just grinned at me. The Knight of Grayhold liked to play games. More, he was good at them. The last time we had met, he had used me as a pawn in his plot to screw over the Rebels attempting to assassinate the frost giant ambassador Rimethur. To judge from Rimethur’s reaction, this had not been the first time the Knight had done something like this.
“Guess you figured out who I really am,” I said.
“It took a while,” said the Knight. “You’re very careful. But I know you work for Kaethran Morvilind, and Morvilind has his patterns. Using a relative as a hostage to ensure the cooperation of his servants is one of them. Once I heard that Lord Morvilind was curing a boy in Milwaukee of frostfever, it did not take long to put the pieces together.”
Damn it.
“So,” I said, feigning casualness, “what brings you to Milwaukee this time of year? Or your projection, anyway. You made a bad choice coming to Milwaukee in February. Way too cold.”
The Knight spread his arms. “Projection, remember. I can’t feel anything unless I choose.”
“Must be handy,” I said. “So why didn’t you project yourself to Florida? It’s prettier, and if you went to the beach, you could watch the women in their swimsuits. I imagine there’s not a lot of women in Grayhold. It’s probably been a while for you, right?”
It was a stupid thing to say, but my mouth sometimes runs away with me when I’m angry or frightened, and I was frightened. I had met the Knight on one of the worst days of my life. I had come out of that mess owing the Knight of Grayhold a favor, and I had a sinking feeling that he was here to collect.
But the Knight only smiled. “There are more women than you might expect in Grayhold, Miss Moran. They are of course nothing but trouble. Much like you.”
“Trouble?” I said, putting one fist on my hip. “That’s offensive. Did you expend all that power just to project yourself here for insults?”
“It is mighty entertaining to watch you when you’re wound up,” said the Knight, “but no. And you are trouble. I remind you that when you first came to Grayhold, you arrived with a pack of anthrophages and their elder upon your shapely tail.” He gestured with his left hand, a flicker of blue light glimmering around his fingers, and I realized he could cast spells through his projection. That couldn’t be good. “But now you’ve got a mild ward around yourself. A protection against leaving any psychic spoor. Must be useful for keeping the anthrophages from finding you. They’re mean bastards, and when they have a grudge they don’t ever let it go.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s useful. Did you just call my tail shapely?”
The Knight snorted again. “We discuss matters of grave import, and of course that is what you focus on.”
“A girl likes compliments. Though maybe delivered a little less crudely.”
The Knight grinned at me. “Would you like more compliments, Miss Moran? I think I could work up to it.”
“How flattering,” I said. I had to admit the Knight was kind of good at flirting. Except I had a boyfriend. And the Knight of Grayhold was the ancient lord of a Shadowlands demesne of great power. “And it’s flattering to think you’re expending all this magical power to hit on me…but I’m not quite that vain.”
“No,” said the Knight, “you’re too smart for that. So, Miss Nadia Moran. Why do you reckon that I am here?”
I took a deep breath. “I…owe you a favor. Because of the business with the Ringbyrne Amulet and the Rebels last year.”
“You do,” said the Knight. “A mighty big favor.”
I waited. I was sure I knew what the favor was going to be. Morvilind’s training had made me into a good thief, and most likely the Knight wanted me to steal something. The thought did calm me down a little. A job was something that could handle.
“What do you want me to do?” I said.
His eyes flicked up and down over my body, and I felt my face warm. I had stepped into that one. “Well, that’s a very open-ended question, Miss Moran…”
“Pervert.”
He laughed. It was genuine amusement, as far as I could tell. “I’m afraid that what I want is irrelevant. I’m not here to collect my favor.”
“Oh?” I said, puzzled again. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to make sure you get a delivery,” said the Knight.
“Uh,” I said. “What? A delivery? You’re with the Royal Parcel Service now?”
He tapped himself on the chest. “I’m not here, remember? A projection. And it’s difficult to hand someone things via a magical projection.”
“So,” I said. “Delivery. Just what am I receiving?”
The Knight’s cold blue eyes met mine. “Something useful.”
“Okay,” I said. That made me nervous. “Then you’re helping me. You’re not here to collect on your favor, fine. Then you’re here to do me another favor, so I owe you another one?”
“Not at all,” said the Knight. “This is hardly a favor. This is more along the lines of…sharing useful information, let’s say.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Because you’re all about the sharing.”
He feigned a wounded expression. “Now that’s cold.”
“Come on,” I said. I was starting to shiver in the cold, despite my heavy coat. “You set me up to screw over Rogomil the last time, and I barely got out alive. What’s going on?” I glanced at the Marneys’ house. “Is it going to happen here?” We had barely gotten the living room rebuilt in time for winter.
“No,” said the Knight. “Your friends shall be perfectly safe.” He watched me for a moment. “Suffice to say, you’re about to be in a great deal of danger. I want to make sure you live long enough for me to collect my favor.”
“Danger,” I said. “What kind of danger?” There were so many different possibilities. “I…”
Boots crunched against the snow, and the Knight turned. It wasn’t obvious, but I could tell he was readying himself for an attack. I turned my head and saw Russell come down the driveway.
“Nadia,” he said. “Is Riordan here? I heard…”
> He stopped when he saw the Knight, blinking for a moment.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll go back inside.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. I didn’t think the Knight would hurt Russell. He was a hard man, but he didn’t seem to have the ruthlessness of someone like Morvilind. “I was just talking. This is…”
“Hello,” said the Knight. He took three quick steps up the driveway and shook Russell’s hand. “Name’s Jacob Temple. I’m a friend of Nadia’s, and I would wager that you are her brother.”
“That’s me,” said Russell, giving the Knight’s hand a vigorous pump. “Nadia?”
“Yeah,” I said, watching the Knight. “We’re friends. We met a while back.” I searched my mind, trying to think of a good lie to tell. I was a good liar, but Russell had this annoying habit of seeing through me. “It was last year. I…”
“I’m sure you know,” said the Knight, “that your sister does some very dangerous work. Our paths happened to cross last year, and she helped me out of a tricky situation. So now I’ve come to repay her kindness.”
That was true. Sort of. If you looked at the truth in a bad light and squinted.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like that. Why don’t you go back inside, Russell? It’s probably cold out.”
“It’s definitely cold out,” said Russell, looking at the Knight again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You have my solemn word,” said the Knight, “that your sister will not come to any harm by my hand today.”
I noticed he made no promises about tomorrow.
“Okay,” said Russell. “I guess that’s all right, then.”
“I think James might want potatoes with the steak,” I said. “Why don’t you go see if we have any left?”
“Good idea,” said Russell, and he wandered back into the house.
The Knight and I stared at each other for a moment.
“Jacob Temple?” I said at last. “As false names go, that’s kind of stupid. Why didn’t you call yourself Bob Church or Nigel Cathedral?”
“I’ll have you know, Miss Moran,” said the Knight, “that Jacob Temple is my actual name.”
“Seriously?” I said. “You just told me your real name?”
“It’s only proper for a man to introduce himself to a lady while visiting her home,” said the Knight.
“Yeah, but with your real name, someone could track you down,” I said. “I think there are certain kinds of mind-altering and divination spells that can track via real name, and then…”
“And they would find me,” said the Knight with a quick smile.
Yeah. They would find him. In Grayhold, in the seat of his power. I remembered the Knight’s armored form cutting down the anthrophages like grass beneath a lawnmower and swallowed.
“Bet that would suck for them,” I said.
“Only if they show up with malicious intent,” said the Knight. He glanced towards the house, blinked, and smiled. “By the way, your brother appears to be covering me with a rifle. An M-99 standard issue carbine, I think.”
“It’s Dr. Marney’s,” I said.
“He’s a loyal brother,” said the Knight.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Did you really tell him that you were Kaethran Morvilind’s shadow agent?” said the Knight. “That seems reckless.”
“He figured it out on his own,” I said. “If you do something threatening, then he will probably shoot you.”
“Oh, I know,” said the Knight. “I know what it is to stand up for one’s female relatives. Though if he does shoot me, he’ll just make some holes in the snow.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Projection. I get that.”
He turned a little, looked up the street, and frowned. “And it’s almost here.”
“What’s almost here?” I said. I didn’t see anything, but with one hand I prepared to gather power for a spell. With the other, I reached for the front of my coat and gripped the little revolver hidden in the interior pocket. Neither my spells nor my gun was of any use against the Knight of Grayhold, but they would work against lots of other dangers.
“The delivery I arranged for you,” said the Knight. “You see, Nadia Moran, you’re about to be in danger.”
“That’s usually true,” I said.
“Even more than usual,” said the Knight. “I expect that you will not survive this danger without assistance.”
“And why would you care if I survived?” I said.
“I can’t collect on my favor if you’re dead,” said the Knight.
“Yeah, favor, right,” I said. “I’m sure that’s totally it.”
“Believe what you wish,” said the Knight, “but one day I will collect on that favor. But only when you are ready, for the favor is exceedingly dangerous.”
“You know,” I said, “if the favor is to ask me out to dinner, this is a really roundabout way to go about it.”
Yeah, smart mouth, I know.
The Knight snorted. “At the edge of death, you would still have a smart remark, I reckon.”
“We all have our gifts,” I said.
“A mighty fine choice of words,” said the Knight. “Because that’s why I’m here. A gift, to make sure that you survive long enough for me to collect on that favor. Now, as I just said, you’re almost certainly about to go into danger.”
“Can you be more specific?” I said.
“Unfortunately, no,” said the Knight. “There are rules about such things. Suffice it to say, it is probable you will be killed without help.” He craned his neck again. “And here is your delivery.”
I turned again. A brown Royal Parcel Service truck crunched its way down the street, its sides adorned with golden lettering. The truck parked in front of the Marneys’ house and a stout middle-aged deliveryman in a brown uniform and a heavy brown coat climbed down from the truck.
“Good afternoon,” said RPS man.
“Afternoon, stranger,” said the Knight, emphasizing his drawl.
The RPS man blinked in surprise. “Texas?”
“Yep,” said the Knight. “Haven’t been back in an age, though.”
“I was in Texas for a few weeks, back when I was in service as one of Duke Tamirlas’s men-at-arms,” said the RPS man. “It was right before one of the campaigns against the dwarves in the Shadowlands…” He shook his head as if remembering he was still at work. “I think I have a delivery for your wife here, Mr. Moran.”
The Knight looked amused.
“What?” I said. “No. God, no. We're not married. Or dating. Or together in any sense of the word. Look, do you have a delivery or not?”
“Ah…yes,” said the RPS man, producing a thick envelope. “Delivery for Nadia Moran.”
“That’s me,” I said. “And he is definitely not Mr. Moran. And we are definitely not married. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the RPS man, who had apparently decided that I was crazy. Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but it was still annoying. He produced a thick tablet, and I scrawled a signature. The RPS man handed over the envelope, climbed into his truck, and drove away.
I looked the envelope over. It was thick brown paper, unremarkable, and the return address was a PO box in Arizona.
“If you wanted to send me a letter,” I said, “there are easier ways to do it.”
“Open it,” said the Knight.
I shrugged, tore open the flap, and reached inside. Within were two smaller envelopes made of gray paper. One envelope had the word WIZARD written upon it, and the other SOLDIER.
“Wizard and Soldier?” I said. “It sounds like a bad video game.”
“The Department of Education has deplorable taste in entertainment,” said the Knight. “But that’s not what this is. Have you heard of a group of people called the Graysworn?”
A memory flickered through my head of Armand Boccand asking if I was one of the Graysworn.
“Heard
of them,” I said. “I don’t know who they are, though. They’re your people?”
“In a way,” said the Knight. “It’s a fancy way of describing a group of people who…well, don’t owe me favors, but obedience. People who are on the same team that I am. People who have the same enemies that I do. Those envelopes contain the contact information for two of the Graysworn. When the danger comes, open those envelopes and follow the directions. The two Graysworn will assist you and obey your instructions.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because I told them to do it,” said the Knight. He shrugged. “It is up to you, Miss Moran. Accept my offer of help. Or don’t. But if you don’t, I think it very unlikely that you will survive the next few days.”
I was already cold thanks to the freezing temperatures, but now I felt even colder.
“Right,” I said, taking a breath of icy air as I dropped the two smaller envelopes back into the bigger one. “Thanks. Um. I’m going to go back inside before I freeze to death. I’d invite you in for coffee, but it would be kind of awkward if you tried to take a drink and spilled all over the carpet.”
I turned and headed for the door.
“Miss Moran,” said the Knight, his drawling voice quiet. “One more thing.”
I turned and looked back at him.
“Lord Kaethran Morvilind is going to kill you,” he said.
The chill got worse.
“What, today?” I said. “I hope he’ll let me have that coffee first.”
“Not today,” said the Knight. “And not while you are useful to him. But the day he no longer needs you, the instant you are no longer of use to him, he will find a way to kill you.”
“I knew that already,” I said. In fact, if I lived long enough that Russell was cured, I suspected Morvilind would find a way to kill me soon after that.
“The day might be sooner than you think,” said the Knight. “Morvilind’s been leaving footprints for decades. Some people are starting to piece together the goal of his labors. He will need to cover his tracks, and you, Miss Moran, are one of the tracks.”
“What are you saying?” I said.
“I think,” said the Knight, “that if I were in your position, I would start preparing for the day that Lord Morvilind no longer has need of your services.”
Cloak Games: Shatter Stone Page 3
