“I believe many of us know what you’re referring to.”
“Well, why is this so much worse? That’s a rhetorical question. I get that it’s a big deal, from the way you’re acting, and because I can sense that much. But I’m curious about the why and how.”
“Let me help you understand. Many of us here have discussed options, with the Thorburn family in mind. We’ve grown up with this danger in mind. I’ve talked about it with my wife,” Laird said. He paused for a second, glancing at his wife. I could see her move, her arm going around her children or relatives. Two boys, two girls.
Laird drew in a deep breath, then told Maggie, “If it came down to it and Blake Thorburn sent something like that after my family, if I didn’t have measures in place, or if I didn’t feel my measures would hold, then I would use gun, knife, bludgeon, or whatever I had at my disposal to kill my family before that thing could reach them. Because I love my family too much to do otherwise.”
There was near-silence, punctuated only by some sniggering from some of the things I took to be goblins.
“It’s a big deal then,” Maggie said. “Why aren’t you taking the offer?”
“Because I do have measures that should be effective. I told Mr. Thorburn as much. Successfully managing this situation and ensuring that things progress smoothly means safeguarding the bit players. I have the means to protect myself, I can give some to the Duchamp family as a pre-wedding gift, if they’re willing. If Crone Mara, you and the woods girl take the deal, most of us are protected. Blake Thorburn is rendered impotent, or he makes a mistake and removes himself as a threat.”
“And destroys us all?” Mrs. Duchamp asked.
“That is something we can work on, but it’s a risk nonetheless.”
Maggie sat back, propping one of her winter boots up against the book-holder on the back of the pew in front, where the bibles and hymn sheets or whatevers were held. “This sounds an awful lot like a trap.”
“It is,” Laird said. “Primarily for Mr. Thorburn, removing all possible leverage he might hold. I feel the risk to you if you take the deal is far smaller than if you don’t.”
“But it’s still a little trap for me. For us,” Maggie said. “And I’m betting that when all’s said and done, you come out ahead.”
“Yes. Alongside the Duchamps, in keeping with our alliance. But we’re all better off, Mr. Thorburn excepted, and he would be largely removed as a threat.”
“No. Drat that,” Maggie said. “Drat you. I’ll do what I want.”
Her way of swearing seemed odd. It had in the vision where I’d first seen her, too. I felt a measure of relief and concern. She wasn’t an ally, per se, but at least she wasn’t playing Laird’s game.
Laird said, “I thought I was being polite, including you. Johannes, Crone Mara, and the girl from the glades, then?”
“I seem to be your last pick among the local practitioners,” Johannes said. When I craned my head to look, he was smirking. “I’m mildly offended.”
“Offended or not, are you interested? We might as well settle this now.”
“I’ll hear what the Briar Girl and Mara have to say, before I make any decision.”
The Briar Girl shifted position. She was plain, her hair a mess, with a twig stuck in the back somewhere. Her winter clothes were layered, a little scuffed at the edges of the sleeves and pant leg. She was wearing pyjamas beneath the jeans.
The spirit walked along the back of the pew with a coyote’s legs, until it stood directly behind her, leaning in to whisper in her ear with a beaked mouth.
“When the house’s occupants are gone, the woods and marshes there are mine,” she said.
“In what sense?” Laird asked.
“In every sense. I want it like Johannes has the north end.”
“You want it uncontested as your demesnes, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“A bit too steep of a price, I suspect. You’re not paying attention to the context of this situation. We need to drain the marshes to let the city expand, which is something we require to further all of our interests, yours included.”
“I am paying attention. I don’t care,” the Briar Girl said. The spirit’s beak was partially open still by her ear, serrated with sawlike teeth. One of its large yellow eyes were fixated on Laird. “The city will expand all the same, but it will expand slower. More expensive for you. It’ll still get where you want it to get. When it does, I’ll have all those woods and marshes. One way or another.”
“I see. Then there’s no use in asking the others,” Laird said.
“I doubt I would have accepted, in any case,” Johannes said. “Just saying.”
I glanced at Mara. She sat alone, eyes fixed in front of her, hands in her lap, very still.
Nobody had really talked to her yet. Did she say or do anything?
Laird was nodding, frowning.
“My rose has done what she aimed to,” Padraic said. “You’ve offended two of us, Aimon Behaim. Johannes and me both.”
“I’m not Aimon, my name is Laird,” Laird said.
Padraic looked a touch annoyed at being corrected. “Aimon, Laird, Lame Airhard, no matter. You’ve wounded me, ignoring me in this critical moment. I have far more to lose than you, don’t I? An immortal lifespan, against, what, thirty more of your years? Twenty of your wife’s? Sixty two of one daughter’s, fifty one of another, one of a son’s life? Add them together for your family as they are now and you have, what?”
One of his companions I hadn’t yet met said something under his breath. The numbers Padraic had given were eerily specific. Laird didn’t even flinch, hearing them, didn’t glance at his children.
“Eight hundred and seven years, for your extended family? Paltry,” Padraic said. He made a face, “In terms of the years I’m expected to live, I’m much more important. Yet you dismiss me.”
“I’d planned to make offers to you and many of the remaining Others, to ensure everyone was on stable footing before proceeding,” Laird said.
“Well,” Padraic said, leaning back, “What would you offer? I’m going to be insulted if you don’t make a good suggestion, now.”
“Despite the fact that we’re no longer negotiating?”
“Exactly so. It’s a question of my pride. How do you value my remaining lifespan, Behaim?”
“I’d thought I might offer to talk to the Queen that exiled you, and see if I could offer to make you a familiar to one of my grandchildren. I could fund him or her, so they could travel, freeing you from your imprisonment here for a time.”
“She wouldn’t accept, and the offer is weak at best,” Padraic said. “Putting the rest of my life at risk for a mere forty or so years of mild adventure? Try again.”
I clenched my hands in my lap. Had I set Laird back, here? A small success?
“Your kind aren’t in my realm of expertise. Sandra? I apologize for asking, but-”
The Duchamp’s leader nodded, all the way in the frontmost pew. The blonde PTA-bitch woman stood as Laird sat down beside his wife. She composed herself, then said, “What would you ask for, Patrick?”