Uncertain Allies

36

Outside the Guildhouse, I ignored the blank silver stares of Guild agents while I waited for Briallen. The Danann fairies were on high alert, flying a low-altitude surveillance around the building and backing up the brownie guards on the street. The Guildhouse was in lockdown, the primary shield dome over the building hardened and public access forbidden. By luck, I had been inside the perimeter when the barrier came down.

No one walked the sidewalks unless they were wearing a Guild or law-enforcement uniform. Unmarked vans idled on various corners, men and women with no identification moving between them, their telltale black uniforms an obvious sign of federal authorities. Vize had destroyed a nuclear power plant, so it was no surprise the human government was on the scene.

I caught sight of Murdock parked next to a fire hydrant up the street. I found him slouched in his seat, reading a paperback. He placed a bookmark and closed the book. “Don’t tell me you’re working a detail for the Guild,” I said.

He shook his head. “I heard the news about Vize. I wanted to watch a little karma in action.”

One of the reasons Moira Cashel had returned to Boston was to capture Vize. If it hadn’t been for him, she might have stayed away, maybe waited until Scott Murdock died before she reconnected with her children. Instead, she’d come back, caused the commissioner’s death, and was killed by one of her sons. Vize’s getting arrested didn’t begin to cover the karma due. “I think he let himself get captured.”

“I’ll buy that. Maybe I should have shot him the other night,” he said.

I gave him a sharp glance at the out-of-character comment. “Are you going to shoot him now?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to stop me if I say ‘yes’?”

I folded my arms and leaned against the car. “You know, I think I would. I don’t give a damn about Vize, but I do about you, Murdock.”

He gave me a pleasant smile. “I’m here for the karma. I’ve shot people in the line of duty, Connor. I didn’t like it. I’m not about to choose to do it, no matter how much I’d like to.”

I squeezed his shoulder. I understood how he felt. I was ready to kill Vize. I would if I had the chance. Murdock’s doing it would make me sad. I had failed at times in my life when it came to being a better person, but I counted on people like Murdock to balance out the damage I had done.

Briallen appeared by my side, a whiff of hot essence around her. She had used essence to travel, coasting faster than the eye could see. Dananns did it all the time, but druids used the ability only in a pinch because it was draining. “Hello, Leonard. I hope you’re not here to do anything foolish.”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m going to wait here while you folks do the foolishness. You know Connor doesn’t have cab fare home.”

She gave a tight smile as she pulled me away from the car. “Good. Don’t irritate the brownies. They’re on edge.”

She glanced around the square. “They’ve cordoned off the neighborhood for two blocks around, so they’re taking this seriously.”

“I don’t believe for one second macGoren’s men captured Vize. Something’s wrong, Briallen,” I said.

She flashed identification at the Guild agent blocking the sidewalk, and we passed. “I agree. The important thing is that he’s in custody. Let’s see what our Acting Guildmaster is going to do about it.”

As we approached the main entrance, Brokke waited under the vaulted portico.

“I’m surprised they’re letting any Consortium agents through security, but for some reason I’m not at all surprised to see you here” I said.

“I asserted my right to enter the Guildhouse as a board director,” he said.

That was news. “Since when?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Eorla made me her second.”

“You needn’t bother. She’s on her way,” said Briallen.

Brokke narrowed his eyes. “You called her. Why?”

“Because she raised Vize. I don’t trust whatever’s happening here, but I trust her to keep him from doing something stupid if she can,” said Briallen.

Brokke lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Empty spaces spread from end to end, where the riot of gargoyles had once adorned the ceiling and columns. The huge dragon’s head over the main door remained. “The gargoyles have all gone to the Common. The essence of the standing stone down there attracts them,” I said.

Brokke closed one eye as he stared. “It’s not that. It’s the dragon.”

Briallen strode through the door “I’m not here for an architectural tour.”

Brokke hesitated. “Have you ever wondered, Grey, why no dwarf enters this place?”

In all the years I had been associated with the Guild, I had never seen a dwarf on the premises. The dwarven representative on the board of directors refused to enter the building. If the reason was known, no one talked about it anymore. “What about it?”

Brokke placed his hand on my sleeve. A static of essence danced along my skin and settled on my eyes. Around the dragon’s head, faint dwarven runes glimmered in deep green light. “What does it say? I never mastered the dwarven language,” I said.

“When Thekk Veinseeker did not feel he had been treated fairly by the Guild, he laid a warning on the door that any dwarf who entered would meet his doom,” Brokke said.

He released my sleeve, and the runes faded from my sight. “Is this your way of saying you can’t stay, but you’ll meet me for coffee later?”

He crossed the portico. “Doom is merely the judgment of our lives, Connor. I have always lived my life knowing it would be judged in the end. I do not fear my doom. If I did, I would rethink my life.”

Briallen waited at the elevators, glaring, with her arms crossed. “I’m glad I’m the one with the least interest here.”

I kissed her temple. “Liar.”

She hit the elevator button. “MacGoren’s still using the Receiving Hall as an office. He needs to assert his authority any way he can. Let him pretend he belongs there,” she said.

We switched to the second elevator bank and arrived at the thirtieth floor. The doors opened to several squads of Guild agents lining the corridor. The air vibrated with sendings as we were ushered along. An agent opened the large door carved with an oak tree with an interlocking crown of branches. MacGoren waited at the end of the sky bridge in a chair in front of the Guildmaster’s seat. For all his pretension, he didn’t have the nerve to sit in the official chair. In the crook of his arm, he cradled the Guild staff of office, a short length of ebony wood tipped with gold and topped with a blue beryl the size of a golf ball.

He enjoyed watching us make the long walk down the length of the hall. “You have five minutes. Say what you will and be done with it,” macGoren said.

“This is a trap, Ryan. Vize would not walk in here willingly,” I said.

MacGoren pretended to dust something off his knee. “A wise man once told me that recognizing a trap was the beginning of avoiding it.”

“The point was to figure out what the trap was, not to let it close on you. Nigel taught me the same thing, macGoren. You’re about to fail avoiding one,” I said.

“It is Vize who is trapped, Grey. He can do nothing within these walls without my permission,” macGoren said.

Briallen stepped closer. “Oh, knock it off, Ryan. You aren’t Guildmaster, no matter how much you wish otherwise. Only Manus ap Eagan has the power to bind anyone here, and while he lives, you keep the seat warm—and not even the actual Guildmaster seat.”

MacGoren frowned, shots of white essence sparking in his wings. Her words stung, as she’d intended. One of the nice things about being Briallen ab Gwyll was speaking her mind when others feared to do so. “I will not allow this opportunity to pass, Briallen. He’s requested protection from the Elven Court. Maeve will be pleased with this.”

“Delay this until we’ve had a chance to figure out his game,” she said.

From the moment I met macGoren, he had been an opportunist. Whether it was money, power, or status, he put himself first. That self-interest had been his downfall on more than one occasion. “MacGoren, I know Vize better than anyone. He doesn’t operate this way. A public ceremony is not his style.”

MacGoren leaned back, shifting the scepter into the crook of his arm. “He has nothing left, Grey. Even the Consortium hunts him now. The humans will thank me that he did not fall into their hands.”

Briallen scoffed. “Thank you? Is that what this about, Ryan? Your vanity? You will never be Guildmaster if you put yourself first. I will go to Maeve to stop this. If she doesn’t appoint me Acting Guildmaster, the underKings and -Queens will.”

MacGoren affected a bored expression. “Feel free, Briallen. Let me know when she gets back to you.”

The doors to the Receiving Hall slammed open, startling us. Aldred Core strode in, his ceremonial cape flaring behind him. I glanced at Brokke, wondering if he knew that the “ambassador” was going to show. He hardly turned to watch Donor approach, which was enough confirmation that he knew what was going on.

“I demand an explanation for the detention of Bergin Vize,” Core said.

MacGoren had the common sense to stand, even if he didn’t know the Elven King was under the glamour. “Ambassador Core, it is a pleasure to have you here again.”

The fury on Donor’s glamoured face was anything but pleasure. “I asked you a question, Guildmaster.”

“He’s not really Guildmaster,” I muttered.

MacGoren pretended not to hear and wore that smug look I hate about him. “No, I believe you made a demand, sir. If you wish an official response, there are official channels you may go through.”

“This isn’t Aldred Core. You’re standing in front of the Elven King,” I said. Brokke made a small hissing sound under his breath. I ignored him. If Donor was gunning for me, I doubted he had changed his mind.

MacGoren laughed. The idiot laughed. “Really, Grey, do you expect me to believe the king of the Teutonic fey would be here, and I not know about it?”

Briallen held up a hand. “Wait, Ryan. My sources have been indicating the Elven King is in the city. If Connor is saying this is Donor, I believe him.”

I turned to Brokke. “Tell him.”

Brokke bowed and stepped closer to the window. “I am here as an observer at the request of Her Majesty Eorla Elvendottir.”

I flinched as the dark mass reacted to my anger. Brokke wasn’t going to help.

“Ask Eorla, then. She knows,” I said.

Donor drifted to the window and faced downtown. “The Grand Duchess is on the march here as we speak. I warned you something like this would happen, macGoren. My people are trying to force her to rethink her actions.”

I went to one of the large windows. Plumes of essence radiated near the financial district by the Rowes Wharf Hotel, the afterimage of essence-fire burn. “What are you trying to pull, Donor? Eorla would not attack the Guild.”

He gave me a dismissive look. “My name is Aldred Core, sir. I imagine she is mounting a rescue for her foster son. She has always been volatile, as you well know, Guildmaster.”

I saw the plan now. Donor wasn’t going to let Vize out of his sight, not until he had the faith stone. “Don’t listen to him, macGoren. He’s setting Eorla up.”

MacGoren returned to his chair. “Enough of this. Eorla is the reason you’re not in chains yourself, Grey. She may have gotten the federal authorities to go away, but she has never acted in our interests. I would believe her no more than that dwarf standing behind you. I need to get this issue out of the way. If Eorla dares to attack, we shall meet her with firm resolve.”

The flutter of a sending wafted across the hall. Guild agents entered, their chrome helmets gleaming as they marched down the sides of the hall. Another squad took to the air and hovered over the rest, their faces focused on the door. Vize entered, surrounded by four druids. Everything else aside, macGoren had the sense to use his toughest security. A small group followed them, local Court hangers-on, reporters and Guild staffers, their faces avid with the excitement of seeing an international criminal under arrest.

The dark mass in my head flared with spikes as Vize approached. He grimaced at the same moment. In the battle between us that had cost us our abilities, we both ended up with the darkness inside us. As it had grown inside me, the darkness had spread inside Vize. His entire arm smoldered with it.

The look he shot me said he hadn’t expected to see me there. His usual self-righteousness seemed shaken. I didn’t buy it. The escorts stopped him shy of the floor medallion. He stared at the glamoured Elven King, hate burning in his eyes before he faced macGoren. I didn’t buy that either, not after Brokke’s refusal to out Donor. They had a plan. “I seek protection from the Seelie Court,” Vize said.

“On what basis should we grant you such a thing?” macGoren asked.

“I face death at the hands of the Consortium should I return to my homeland,” he said.

“That is a lie, sir,” said Donor.

MacGoren ignored him. “Many people fear such a fate. Why would the Consortium seek your death?”

“Maybe because he’s a mass murderer?” I said.

MacGoren frowned. I was ruining his drama. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“Treason, sir. I have failed my king’s orders, and he contrives to accuse me of his own crimes,” he said.

“And what orders were these?” macGoren asked.

Vize cocked his head back and tried to restrain a smile. “The destruction of the Seelie Court and the death of High Queen Maeve.”

Gasps, some genuine, rose from the observers. I saw what macGoren was after. Accusing Donor in public for directing assassination plots against Maeve would take attention away from the missteps the Guild had made in Boston. It was a stupid blunder. The media victory for the High Queen would blow over, but Vize wasn’t ever going to provide any real information about his terrorist network, not after all he had done to destroy Maeve. He wanted her dead as much as Donor did.

“What an idiot,” I muttered.

I’ve been trying to tell him, but he’s ignoring my sendings, Briallen sent.

“These are grievous claims, sir,” macGoren said.

Vize bowed his head. “I am ashamed for how I’ve been manipulated by the Elven King. In humility, I ask for the High Queen’s aid.”

MacGoren gestured with the scepter. “You ask for protection?”

Briallen cleared her throat. “My lord, as a director of this Guildhouse and a member of the Seelie Court, may I speak?”

MacGoren glared. As much as he didn’t want to allow it, he wasn’t about to silence Briallen ab Gwyll in front of reporters. “Pray, be brief, Lady Gwyll.”

“This man is not known for his honesty. Before you grant him protection, a formal investigation into his claims would be in order.”

“I hear your words, lady, and consider them. This man is well-known to the Guild and the Seelie Court. He would not come to us were he not in fear of his life, I think,” macGoren said.

“Then arrest him for the crimes of which he is accused, sir. We can assess his words best with deliberation than grant him protection in haste,” she said.

He made a point of shifting in his seat to face away from her. “Thank you, Lady Gwyll. We have noted your suggestion and will let the record show it. Bergin Vize, you must know that this protection does not excuse you from any crimes committed against the Seelie Court. Do you still seek protection under this understanding?”

“I do, sir,” he said.

See, I know what I’m doing, macGoren sent us.

Briallen let me hear her response sending. Leaving the door open to prosecute him doesn’t explain why he’s doing this, Ryan.

MacGoren ignored her as he stood. “I represent Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara. In her name, I extend you protection. Bow before me in this place and address yourself to the High Queen’s seal.”

Vize complied, going to one knee before the three cups in the floor tiling. The black mass spiked in my head, and I let out an involuntary gasp.

Briallen took my arm. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.

“The dark mass is shifting in my head. He’s doing something,” I said.

Briallen moved closer to macGoren. “Ryan—please—don’t go near him.”

A murmur rose among the people who heard her. MacGoren paused, anger building in his face as white shots of essence danced in his wings. “Enough, Briallen. You’ve said your piece.”

He lifted the scepter. “Bergin Vize, I grant you protection of Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara.”

I clutched my head against the pain as Vize rose, a smile on his face. His arm snaked forward as shadowed darkness and wrapped around the scepter. The blue beryl shattered from his touch. Startled, macGoren tried to pull away. With a flick of his arm, the shadow undulated and yanked the scepter from macGoren’s hand. Vize slammed the ebony rod down on Maeve’s seal in the floor. White essence burst from the fractured tiles and threw me against the wall.