“And mixed with silver,” Oberis finished grimly, “it is bane, instant death to any shifter, and capable of shattering any non-Powers’ magical constructs.
“It is through control of the flow of heartstone that the Wizard commands this city,” he continued. “He deals with the shifters to limit it, with us to supply it, and with wizards and fae elsewhere for it as well.”
“Everyone wants it,” I said quietly, “and the shifters want to leave it where it is. And mortal politics?”
“Inhuman politics have always had their reflections in the mortal world,” Oberis said with a nod. “You are correct: the designs of the various factions have shaped the politics around the oil sands in the human world.”
Oberis looked me in the eyes.
“The Court has been censured for your actions,” he explained. “Our supply of heartstone has been temporarily reduced in punishment, though as you did not break the Covenants, your punishment is left to me.
“Understand that you have embarrassed this Court, and I cannot let that pass,” he continued. “While I understand that you are bound to obey the orders of your mistress, I must demand that you do so more discreetly in future. It is within the limits of my authority over one such as you to demand that you do not interact with the other groups in this city, and so I lay that restriction on you.
“If you need aid in your task, turn to Eric or myself,” he instructed. “You will not make contact with Clan Tenerim or the other shifters, do you understand? This is my will and this is my city, so you will obey.”
I bowed my head in agreement. I couldn’t really argue—Vassal or no Vassal, Oberis could still kill me with a word.
“For the rest, I will regard your wounds as punishment enough,” he continued. “Is this satisfactory, Keeper?” He turned to Eric.
The gnome nodded. “You are within your rights,” he said simply.
Oberis hit an intercom button. “Laurie, attend, please.”
The hag entered the room after a minute or so.
“Take Mr. Kilkenny home,” the fae lord instructed. “The Keeper and I still have matters to discuss.”
LAURIE DROVE ME HOME, exactly as precisely obedient to traffic laws as when she drove me to the Court. When we pulled up next to the apartment, she locked the door before I could get out.
“It appears my lord has chosen to be lenient with you,” she told me, and for the first time since I’d met her, she fully dropped the glamor. Old, old black eyes glared at me, and I shivered as the full force of the hag’s attention hit me.
“I have seen the aftermath of your stupidity,” she continued. “Leave these affairs to those better suited for them, or perhaps next time I will not bother my lord with the affairs of troublesome children. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, fear having frozen my voice. She unlocked the door, and I was almost shoved out, standing on the sidewalk, watching her drive away.
Just to add to everything, Oberis’s pet hag had taken a disliking to me. I had no doubt that if she decided “not to bother” Oberis, my life expectancy would then be measured in minutes.
With a sigh, I went into my apartment building. Discretion was now doubly necessary, but I had no illusions about my ability to defy my Queen. Or even keep Her from knowing what was going on, as was pointed out to me when I logged onto Fae-Net.
I didn’t even know the email client I used for the Fae-Net had the ability to mark a message as “high priority”, but I had one marked as such. There was no return sender, and it was signed merely M.
You have done well, she started. Events are moving quickly, and you have achieved more than I had hoped.
Sigridsen’s capture would have been preferable to her destruction, as Oberis or the shifter Alpha could have forced her to reveal more, but the circumstances were beyond your control.
I request that you attempt to avoid being as drastically wounded in future. I have arranged for certain supplies to be delivered to your apartment. Use them wisely.
M.
A suspicion in my mind, I looked around my apartment. I was correct—a black hard-cased briefcase had materialized on my table at some point since Friday evening. I’d missed it coming in, since I hadn’t expected there to be anything in my house I hadn’t put there.
I opened the briefcase. The left half was occupied by a neatly folded cloth package. The right half contained one of the smallest pistols I’d ever seen. The receiver was marked with a cleanly filed flat space that should have held a serial number, and the text IWI LTD COMPACT JERICHO 941.
Two ten-round magazines filed the space around the pistol, and two twenty-round boxes rounded out my “care package”. I pulled one of the bullets out of the box and shivered at the touch. I’d seen these rounds before, in the hands of fae security—it was a modified hollow-point carrying a mixed silver, cold-iron and garlic distillate payload.
It wasn’t enough of any of the three to prove fatal from one round, though the 9 mm rounds would do a good chunk of damage on their own, but three or four of those in just about any inhuman would give them a very bad day.
Returning the bullet to the box, I pulled out the cloth package. It was a plain, dark gray undershirt. Running my fingers down it, however, I could feel lines of impact-resistance gel capsules, and turning it inside out, I saw someone had inlaid a series of what looked liked runes in a goldish metal that I suspected was the orichalcum Oberis had mentioned.
Apparently, the Queen preferred me alive and not shot to pieces. Who would have figured?
11
IN THE MORNING, however, it all seemed faintly ridiculous. I was not going to be the only courier in the city driving around carrying a firearm! I left the Jericho and its thoroughly lethal ammunition in the briefcase.
Of course, that didn’t stop me putting the armored vest on. If nothing else, it turned out to be very warm, and I wasn’t sneering at that in the weather Calgary had boasted since my arrival. That I was sure the Queen’s gift would stop anything short of tank rounds helped as well.
I made it into work exactly on time, to the usual hustle of Trysta and Bill sorting everyone out with their loads for the day.
“Hey, Jason,” Trysta greeted me. “You’re on the ten AM airport run, same as yesterday, but I’ve got a load for you to run out beforehand.”
“Works for me,” I agreed, and then groaned as one of the other drivers accidentally elbowed me.
“You okay, man?” he immediately asked.
“I broke up a fight on the weekend,” I explained quickly. “I’ll be fine. Just watch my chest, if you can.”
“Are you going to be good to drive?” Trysta asked when I turned back to her.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “Just bruised.” She nodded and handed me the clipboard for my morning deliveries.
I was half-expecting the text that arrived as I was halfway through my trip, instructing me to meet Enforcer Michael at a different Starbucks location from last time, this one on my way back to the office from this trip.
“Is this going to be a regular thing?” I asked as I met him in the parking lot. This time, he had the mocha I’d ordered last time waiting for me. I took it gratefully, the cup warm in my hands amidst the frigid air.