Mark Del Franco - Uncertain Allies

Fifteen minutes later, Ambassador Core entered in full court regalia, the bright red tunic with all the gold bric-a-brac hanging off it. To my surprise, Brokke followed him and seated himself in a corner. The ambassador gestured at the guards to leave, and they closed the door behind them.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Grey?” he asked.

“Show me your true face for a start,” I said. I hated games.

Without hesitation, Donor released the ambassador illusion. Instead of the smug face of Aldred Core, the smug face of Donor Elfenkonig stared at me. “Have you considered my offer of asylum?”

“I don’t need it. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Gerda Alfheim is dead,” I said.

Bored, he glanced at Brokke. “I’ve been apprised of local news, dull as it is.”

“Where’s Bergin Vize?”

Donor frowned. “Mr. Grey, these are people I have no knowledge of.”

“Funny you would forget Eorla’s fosterling,” I said.

Donor lowered himself into a chair. “I do not concern myself with the doings of all my citizens. Perhaps if you spoke on a subject I do engage, this conversation might proceed somewhere.”

“Alfheim’s dead, and Vize has added more victims to his body count. They work for you. They always have. They’ve caused a lot of damage. At some point, it’s going to stick to you,” I said.

“I doubt that. I won’t be held accountable for the deeds of others. Terrorists have their own agenda,” he said.

“But they serve yours,” I said.

Donor looked down at the desk, his face a mask as he weighed which string to pull. “Many people do. I am not in the habit of rejecting things that have the good fortune of redounding to my benefit. I have heard a rumor that Gerda was looking for something I am interested in. I will not object if it comes into my hands at some point.”

“Where is the faith stone?”

Donor gave his head a small shake. “Faith stone? If Gerda sought such a thing and did not find it, I’m sure no one else has.”

“As far as you know, you mean,” I said.

His arrogant smile was starting to get on my nerves. “True, but I think I would know if someone else found it. I think we all would know,” he said.

“Vize has killed at least three of your own people helping Gerda in her little treasure hunt,” I said.

He sighed. “Not all dwarves are my subjects, pity though it is, Mr. Grey. Whomever Gerda recruited to help her was her business. If she involved Vize, she sealed her own doom.”

“I want Vize,” I said.

Donor’s gaze shifted toward Brokke. “So do I. I understand he is wanted for high crimes in several countries. As a head of state, his freedom concerns me. I don’t know where he is. I no longer understand his motives.”

“Do a sending. He’ll come,” I said.

Brokke shifted in his seat. “He can make sendings but not receive them.”

“Then call him on the damned phone. Look, I didn’t come here to chat. I want Vize. I don’t care if he’s useful to you. Find someone else to do your dirty work. His usefulness to you has run out.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Donor said.

I leaned over the desk. The attempt at intimidation had no effect that I noticed, but it made me feel better. “Then let me warn you. I will hound him until he is in custody. Anything he does will be done with me breathing down his neck. I will disrupt every plan I can. I will expose every manipulation. I will undermine you at every turn, Donor.”

He murmured a chuckle. “In other words, Mr. Grey, you will do what you have always done.”

“I don’t work for the Guild anymore,” I said.

He smiled. “Officially.”

“At all,” I said. “Maeve is no friend of mine.”

“I have been at this sport much longer than you, Mr. Grey. Denials from the enemy mean nothing. Affirmations mean less.”

“What you and Maeve have going on is not my concern. That was another life for me. I’m not interested in you anymore. What I care about now are four dead bodies, including Gerda, in my town that lead back to you. I won’t shed any tears for her, but I’m not going to let Vize run loose.”

He arched an impatient eyebrow. “Perhaps you should find out who killed Gerda, then. I’m sure it wasn’t Vize.”

“Asking Vize a few questions might help. Where is he?”

“He’s gone rogue,” Brokke said.

“You’ve lost control of him?” I asked.

Donor glared at Brokke, and I sensed the flutter of a sending. The dwarf flinched but set his jaw. “It matters not.”

“I don’t believe you. I saw him in TirNaNog. He has an army of followers. That’s got to matter to you,” I said.

“Those people support my cause, not his. If Vize turns against me, they will not follow,” Donor said.

“Really? Like what’s happened with Eorla Elvendottir?” I asked.

His cheekbones tinged red in anger. “Eorla and I will resolve our differences. She will have no choice. It is no concern of yours.”

“It is if you don’t resolve it. Because if you don’t, then I doubt you can control Vize’s followers either,” I said.

The color faded from his face as he resumed control of his emotions. “Enough of this discussion, Mr. Grey. I will not help you find Vize, but I will not hinder you. Now, it is your turn to answer my questions. Why does Maeve fear you?”

“I seem to have a knack for disrupting her plans without intending to. I annoy her, but I don’t think she fears me,” I said.

“The Wheel of the World turns, and we follow, Mr. Grey. We influence It as much as It influences us. If you obstruct Maeve’s influence, then she has reason to fear you. Your absence in the world might clear her path,” he said.

“Maeve doesn’t turn the Wheel of the World. The Wheel turns, no matter what she wants,” I said.

“Among the common people, that is true, but those with real power do, in fact, move the Wheel. We cannot stop It, but we can change Its course for a time. If Vize had succeeded in TirNaNog, the world would be different right now. The dead fairy queen changed the outcome of that encounter,” he said.

“Her name was Ceridwen, and you’re right. She did change things—for the better. If she hadn’t warned Maeve, Boston would have been destroyed, and Tara would be yours now,” I said.

“You closed the gate to TirNaNog, not she. That kind of power is what Maeve fears. The ability to take power away is as powerful as power itself. I am beginning to wonder if I should fear you, too.”

“Give me Vize, and you have nothing to fear from me,” I said.

He rose from the desk and resumed the Aldred Core glamour. “That, I think, is a promise you cannot make, never mind keep. I wish you well, Mr. Grey, but, more, I wish never to meet you again.”

As Donor strode from the room, Brokke glared at me. “You fool. You just signed your death warrant.”

After his portentous announcement, Brokke clammed up, fearing the room was bugged. I expected no less from the Teutonic Consortium. The Guildhouse was riddled with listening devices. It didn’t bother me so much when I thought they were the good guys. Using a sending, Brokke asked me to wait for him in Copley Square. Not long after I settled myself on a bench near the park, he appeared on the sidewalk along Boylston Street and entered the Boston Public Library. I will be in the upper stairwell, he sent.

Since the riots, any number of agencies had people keeping an eye on me. As a high-level advisor, Brokke no doubt had his own spies to contend with. I waited a few minutes, checking if he was followed or I was being watched. The square and surrounding sidewalks were crowded with tourists, businesspeople, and shoppers. Any one of them—several of them—could be working for the Guild or the Consortium.