Mark Del Franco - Unquiet Dreams

“Let’s sit by the fire,” she said in a firm voice that said she was used to directing.

As I took a side chair from along the wall, I realized she was pulling her own chair forward. “Here, let me,” I said.

“I’ve moved more than enough chairs on my own.” Not bitchy, just matter-of-factly. I liked that in a royal elf, though I hadn’t expected that from Eorla.

We settled before the fire facing each other. She was quite beautiful, beautiful in that uncanny way a woman can be where you can’t quite believe anyone can look that way. Her haughtiness enhanced her attractiveness, though she was clearly a woman who drew her strength from who she was, not what she looked like.

“I know you are here-born, as they call it, Connor Grey, yet I sense something ancient about you. You have an old weapon with you?” she asked.

Without hesitation, I pulled my dagger from my boot. It really was ancient, a gift from my mentor Briallen, and had already saved my life once. It had a worn and stained sheath, but the hilt shone like newly forged silver and gold, with a large ruby on the pommel. Without hesitation, I held it out to her. If I had anything to worry about from Eorla Kruge, the blade wouldn’t help me.

When she reached for the dagger, a few runes on the old sheath glowed a light blue when the field of her essence came near. Her hand hovered over the pommel, then closed into a fist without touching it. “It has been many years since I held a blade. I do not think now is the time to start again. Can you turn it for me?”

Eorla leaned forward and examined the dagger as I displayed it from several angles for her. As I pulled the blade out slightly, she grabbed my arm. “Don’t. I sense it has an edge that yearns for blood. It is an undaunted weapon. Draw it only with purpose. I have seen it once before, a long, long time ago, in a very sad time.”

“I just thought you’d like to see some of the inner engraving.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Thank you. Why do you claim to be a Guild director?”

I shrugged. “It was more a half-truth. Would they have called you otherwise?”

“If I knew you were here, yes. It’s not every day one gets to meet the man who almost killed Bergin Vize.”

I hesitated before responding. In Germany, many people considered Vize to be a hero. The guards might have been uncomfortable leaving Eorla alone with me, but now I felt uncertain being left alone with her. “He almost killed me, too.”

She nodded. “I know. Why are you here?”

“A young human boy was murdered the same night as your husband, and I believe the deaths may be related.”

The corners of her lips pulled down. “I was not told of this.”

“The Guild thinks he’s not worth the trouble. I was hoping you could tell me anything regarding your husband’s murder that might help?”

A bitter line crossed her face. “This division between fey and human is exactly what Alvud fought against. The night he died, Alvud said he had a meeting with a troll. I know the Guild is focusing on a troll woman that worked at the Unity offices. They do not seem able to uncover any new information. Are you saying you have?”

“I found some blood evidence in my case that may have been your husband’s.”

Eorla frowned. “I can’t tell you how odd it is to have someone say that to me.”

“I’m sorry. Can you tell me who might have wanted the Marchgraf dead?”

“I told the Guild a drug dealer made threats against Alvud. He was quite concerned about it.”

Keeva hadn’t mentioned she was looking at drug dealers in addition to Croda. “Did you tell the Guild that?

“Of course.”

I had two trolls working drugs. Moke wanted C-Note out of the way enough to pit his gang against him. Framing C-Note for Kruge’s murder certainly wasn’t beyond belief in a drug lord dispute. C-Note wanted control of the Tangle enough to kill the head of the TruKnights.

“What about business associates?” I asked.

Eorla considered for a moment. “My husband had many businesses, Connor Grey. None of them seemed worth his life.”

“Can you give me an example? What about real estate?”

She gave me a sly, knowing look. “I see. You are here about Ryan macGoren and Gerin Cuthbern. They have been trying to buy Alvud’s properties in that neighborhood.”

I kept my face impassive at the mention of Gerin Cuthbern’s name. In my business, you always want to look like you already know everything, but this was news. Still, you used what you could on the fly. “I know why macGoren wanted the land. But I don’t understand why Cuthbern was interested.”

“Because macGoren wanted it. Alvud was short on cash, but he was concerned that macGoren would force people out of their homes if he sold the land. Gerin and Alvud were old friends. Gerin was just as suspicious of macGoren’s motives. He offered to fund Alvud’s project by buying the land and keeping it out of macGoren’s hands.”

“You’ll pardon me, Marchgrafin, but how does someone of Alvud’s stature need cash?”

She smiled grimly. “People often make that mistake about monarchies. Titles do not automatically mean money. Alvud spent a great deal on his causes. He saw wealth differently than some people.”

I looked at the fine cut of her clothing, the quality of the material, and decided to push the line. “Differently than you?”

She gave me a low laugh. “Aren’t you the brash one? Yes, I have money, but if my family caught wind of my giving it to Alvud’s causes, the flow would stop instantly. They don’t share our politics. That’s as personal a question as I will answer. What else would you like to know?”

“Do you think macGoren wanted the land enough to kill?”

Eorla sighed and shook her head. “In another world, maybe. That’s the way things used to be in Faerie. You fought for what you wanted. But here, in this place, I doubt it. In my life, I have seen people kill for a crust of bread. My husband wasn’t killed. He was savaged. Only a madman would do this. I think Ryan macGoren is an aggressive businessman. I don’t think he’s a madman.”

“What did the Marchgraf need the money for?”

“A drug rehab program. If you have a drug lord who was going to lose his territory and his client base, I believe you have your motive.”

I tried to smile, but it was awkward. “I tend to agree with you. The Guild seems more at a loss than we do.”

Eorla nodded in slow agreement. “It’s always about territory, isn’t it? Who owns it; who uses it; who wants it. Gerin has offered to buy the property from me and deal with macGoren. I may agree to that. That place was Alvud’s interest, not mine. I would prefer to work through the Guild.”

I smiled. “Gerin will work against you.” It didn’t feel like telling tales out of school. Eorla wasn’t stupid.

“Precisely. He preferred Alvud over me because Alvud personally worked to solve problems. He liked to meet the people he was helping and left the politics to me. My skills have always lain in that direction.”

“You must have made a formidable couple,” I said.

A melancholy smile flickered on her face. “I shall miss him terribly.”

“I truly am sorry for your loss.”

She sighed and looked into the fire, then back at me. “My grief has not reached me yet. The idea that I shall never again hear my husband’s voice in this world is beyond my comprehension. When the time comes, I will mourn him deeply. Now, though, I keep seeing his smiling face as he kissed me and left our last embrace.”

I felt the sound of her voice in my chest. To have lived with someone for centuries spoke of a relationship I could not even begin to fathom. I reached out and squeezed her hand, amazed that I did. One doesn’t touch an elven noble without permission. She didn’t object, even placed her other hand on mine. Despite what she had said, she was grieving already and sharing it with me. The Consortium needed more people like her and her husband.