Karen Chance - Claimed by Shadow

I wanted to say, "Yeah, there's two in that duffle over there," but I didn't know how much I could trust my new "allies." Pritkin needed my help, so I doubted he'd grab the bag and run, but what about Mac? A quarter million pounds in the 1960s would be worth what today? I didn't know, but the answer might be enough to make good old Mac's loyalty waver. His business didn't exactly look prosperous, and even mages could be tempted by an early retirement.

"Maybe. It's been a while.”

I glanced at Mac, and Pritkin looked disgusted. "He is risking his life in this endeavor. You can trust him as you do me," he said impatiently.

I raised an eyebrow, and Pritkin exploded. His face had been reddening as the tattoo was inked in, inch by agonizing inch, and I think he wanted someone to yell at. "If you do not trust me, this will never work! There are going to be times, very soon, when our lives will depend on whether we can work together! If you cannot put faith in me, say so now. I would rather do this alone than get killed because you assume I am false!”

I drank Coke and remained calm. "If I didn't think I could trust you, to a point, I'd have left by now. Your hour was up a few minutes ago." I looked between him and Mac.

"Hypothetically, say I know where some weapons might be found. I'll describe them, and you tell me what they do. If we decide they could be useful, maybe I'll tell you where to locate them.”

Pritkin looked outraged, but Mac shrugged. "Sounds fair." He paused to change ink colors, having finished all the gold areas on the sword. "Have at it.”

"Okay." I didn't have to think about it, since the only thing I'd taken from the Senate besides the traps and the null bombs was a small velvet bag. Inside were a handful of yellowed bone disks imprinted with crude runes. They had holes carved in the top and leather thongs threaded through them like they were usually worn rather than cast. I described them to Mac, who stopped working to stare at me, openmouthed.

"That's impossible," he said. Pritkin didn't say anything, but it felt like his eyes might bore a hole through me at any minute. "I'm not calling you a liar, Cassie, but if a two-bit gangster like that Antonio has the Runes of Langgarn, I'll-”

"He doesn't." Pritkin cut him off. "Where did you see them?”

"This is hypothetical.”

"Miss Palmer!”

"You can call me Cassie." Considering that he was probably planning to kill me eventually, formality seemed a little odd.

"Answer the question," Pritkin forced out through clenched teeth. Since Mac hadn't resumed digging in his back, I supposed I was the cause.

"I'll tell you what I know," Mac put in, "but it isn't much. Legend has it that they were enchanted by Egil Skallagrims-son in the late tenth century." At my blank look, he elaborated. "He was a Viking poet and general hell-raiser-took his first life at age six when he killed another boy over the outcome of a ball game-but he was one of the best rune-masters to ever live. Of course, some stories say that he stole the runes from Gunnhild, the witch queen of Erik Bloodaxe, king of Norway and northern England. And since Gunnhild was said to have Fey blood, it's possible the runes were enchanted long before in Faerie by someone else entirely-”

"Mac," Pritkin broke in when it sounded like his friend was about to go off on a tangent.

"Oh, right. Well, there are a lot of stories about Egil, most of which were recorded in his own poetry. He depicted himself as a larger-than-life figure who did impossible things-took on huge numbers of opponents and slew them single-handedly, set barns ablaze with a look, brought kings under his sway with only the power of his words and survived numerous attempts on his life. He made an enemy of Gunnhild, either by stealing her runes or by killing her son-stories differ-yet he lived to age eighty in a time when most men died in their forties. Interesting bloke, I always thought.”

"So what do the runes do?" I tried not to sound impatient, but I needed useful facts, not a history lesson.

"It's rumored that there was a full set at one point, but it was broken up centuries ago. It doesn't matter, since they're used separately. Each has a different power associated with it, and their only limitation is that they have to recharge for a month after use. Those that remain are highly valued weapons. It's said that they can't be warded against and that even null bombs don't have much effect on them.”

I shot Mac a skeptical look. I'd never heard of any magic that couldn't be countered. Casanova had tried to sell me that idea about my geis, but even Pritkin had admitted that there was almost certainly a way out of it. I just didn't know what it was yet.

Mac shook his head. "It sounds fantastic, doesn't it? But the Circle owns two of the set, and I was there twenty years ago when they used one to test a new ward they'd developed. This thing was a bear-nothing got through it, and I mean nothing. Twenty of our best mages hammered at it for the better part of a morning, hit it with everything they had, but it didn't so much as waver. Then old Marsden-he used to lead the council-brought out the runes. He decided to cast Thurisaz. I'll never forget that, not long as I live.”

"What happened?" I prompted.

"If you didn't know Marsden, it may be hard for you to get a visual on this, but picture the oldest, scrawniest, least threatening man you've ever seen. His magic was still strong at that point-he didn't step down until a few years ago- but he was old. His hands shook and he almost always had food spilled down the front of him because he couldn't see worth a damn. He kept running into things but he wouldn't wear his glasses or use charms to enhance his vision. He kept saying he didn't need them; then he'd try to shake hands with coat racks. He looked like he ought to be in a retirement home, unless you crossed him. Then you found out why he led the council for seven decades.”

"Mac!”

"Right, right. Well, Marsden cast Thurisaz on himself, and the next thing any of us knew, he was gone and there was this huge-and I mean huge -ogre standing in his place. It was so tall it had to hunch over to fit in the room, and the council chamber has ceilings almost twenty feet tall! It snatched up the council table, which was made of old oak and weighed God knows what, and hurled it the length of the chamber. When it bounced off the ward without doing any damage, the thing let out a bellow that deafened me for a good ten minutes, then charged. The ward had been set up to protect a small vase, and so far, not so much as a petal of any of the flowers had been disturbed. Less than a minute after Thurisaz was cast, the ward was down and the vase was dust.”

"How… amazing." I had raided the Senate hoping for weapons; it looked like I'd finally lucked out and found some. Knowing Tony's penchant for nasty surprises, I was going to need them.

"Yes, well, that part was all right, but then we had a rampaging ogre on our hands, didn't we? And we couldn't kill it without also killing the head of the council. Not that any of us was keen to take on that thing. We ran over each other getting out the door, then hied away like frightened rabbits. We reassembled outside and argued for almost an hour over what to do once it destroyed the wards guarding the chamber and got loose. Then old Marsden came wandering out and finally bothered to mention that the spell only lasts an hour.”

"What do the other runes do?" I asked. "Is there a book or something?”

He glanced at Pritkin. "Would Nick have anything? I don't know the individual powers, just the basic legend.”

Pritkin ignored him. "How many do you have?" he asked me. The question was quiet, but a pulse was throbbing at his temple.

I hesitated, but if I wanted to find out what these things did, I'd have to give up some information. "Three.”