“That’s cheating.”
“I’m still asking. I’ll try to make you a counteroffer.”
“One of Laird’s generations. Grandchildren, grand-nieces and nephews, and the children of his cousins.”
“That has the unfortunate consequence of ending his line.”
Padraic smiled. “I could return them, more or less in one piece. Let them age up to twenty or so, educate them. It would be novel, and if we kept some in reserve and staggered out when and how we returned them, we could amuse ourselves for hundreds of years.”
“I see,” Sandra Duchamp said. “Here’s my counteroffer: what if I offered a messenger?”
“The Queen won’t listen,” Padraic said, sighing.
“To other banished Faerie, in other cities and towns. Until our family line ends or the Queen is replaced and the court dynamic changes up once again.”
“Springtime,” Padraic said. “Mm. That would have been a good offer. Paved the way for an insurrection of sorts.”
“Perhaps,” Sandra Duchamp said. “That would be dangerous for my family. I was thinking of maintaining some connection to the courts, in a peripheral manner.”
“Nonetheless, I’m pacified. I no longer feel slighted.”
“Then,” Sandra Duchamp said, “Thorburn’s offer remains open, I will know who accepts it, if anyone does. Let’s set that matter aside so we’re free to move on. The murder of Molly Walker?”
Laird responded without standing, “It’s largely under wraps. The investigation will hit a dead end on its own.”
“Any assistance needed?”
“No. I’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Good,” Sandra said. It seemed like she was leading things, now. Was leadership exchanged so easily? “In terms of more mundane business… Toronto is currently in the dark. Provided there aren’t any further interruptions, my family should be able to divert attention for the time being. I’ve had a short discussion with the Lord of Ottawa, and she is on board, keeping her subservients at bay.”
“The smaller towns in the GTA?” The Briar Girl asked.
“Stable, expressing no interest and exerting no pressure. I see only three or four individuals or groups that might make make an active play, and they are doing no such thing. The remainder would sell us out to Toronto’s Lord or try to sell us out to Ottawa and inform us. For the time being, we’re the only individuals in play, here.”
There were nods all around. I saw some of the Others leaving. Apparently those were the only major points they were interested in hearing.
“Next order of business. I’m obligated to call it to a vote. Flagrant use of one’s practice in public, acting against the local powers. Maggie Holt.”
The witch hunter girl at the front perked up at that. So did Maggie.
“Excusable use,” Maggie said. “Nobody even thought it was anything suspicious.”
“To sanction the use of the Jacob’s Bell witch hunters to execute Maggie Holt, please vote,” Sandra Duchamp declared.
The Briar Girl raised her staff. One member of Laird’s family, a teenage boy with brown hair, raised a golden disc, held between crossed index and middle fingers. He looked back at Maggie, and she rolled her eyes.
Nobody else in the room raised their implements. Not even the woman who called the vote. What was the proper course of action if we didn’t have implements to raise? Raising our hands? Or were we not allowed to vote?
“Two yeas, the remainder of the votes are nay. The execution is not passed,” Sandra Duchamp said. “Be careful. You have very few friends here. When we’re not following so soon after one execution, we may prove more willing to vote against you.”
I saw Maggie sit back a little. She was a little relieved, or she’d hidden the tension well.
The discussion continued, along the same lines. Outside players, minor internal disputes over who was doing what, and all of the other details that went into maintaining the balance of power.
■
“…And with that, the meeting is called to order,” Laird Behaim said. He’d taken over again when Sandra’s voice had started to give out. He opened his pocket watch. “Seven forty-four.”
That seemed to be the end of it. The remaining crowd picked up and got ready to leave, pulling on winter clothes, gathering implements and tools. I was among them, getting my jacket on before pulling on the backpack of weapons and tools.
Many of the Others were gone. Most of the ones who remained were still human in appearance.
Nobody seemed interested in talking to me, so I made my way outside.
“Not exactly the result you wanted,” Rose murmured, as we passed outside. The mirror was still sticking out of the top of my backpack.
“Not a bad result either,” I said. “Do you object? Bad plan?”
“No. I would have liked more time to consider it, but there are worse ideas. What was with that bit at the end? You won’t use devils to attack someone, but they can attack you?”
I nodded. “I needed some incentive. I didn’t have time to stand there thinking about it, so I went with the most obvious thing.”
“Right. Well. Thoughts?”
“Getting home, seeing if anyone expresses interest, get more reading done.”
“Shopping? Food?”
“Stores close in twelve minutes, and I don’t want to dally. If it comes down to it, I can live off what’s in the house now, at least until next month.”
“Grim,” Rose said.
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Remind me of this idiotic call, a little while from now.”
“Will do.”
“Something else we need to talk about,” I said, “Is this vestige thing. It’s the… second or third time I’ve heard it, and I’m pretty sure you referenced it, one of those times.”
“Talking to yourself, Mr. Thorburn?”
I wheeled around. Rather than stop, I kept walking backwards.
Johannes and Maggie. North End Sorcerer and the girl with the checkered scarf.
And, I had to note, a small contingent of goblins. The dog walked alongside Johannes, through slush and snow, the long hair not getting wet or dirty. Johannes wore a white coat, and it was pristine.
Maggie, by contrast, had specks and spots of gray-brown grime on her leggings, with circles of wet spreading around them. Her skirt and hair blew around in the wind, and she hunched over, hands jammed in her pockets, as she trudged on.
Most of the goblins were children, paying very little attention to us as they hopped onto nearby cars or walls. Two were large. Gorilla-like things, ugly as hell, stark naked, their faces bent in permanent scowls. A child-like goblin jumped on the shoulders of one of the larger ones. A moment later, it was seized and smashed against the nearest lightpost.