“Are you armed, sir?” He didn’t call in two more agents because he thought I was defenseless.
“Of course,” I said.
“We will extend your rank the courtesy of retaining your weapon, but you may not draw it or appear to do so. You will not be allowed within twenty feet of the Marchgrafin. If you hesitate to follow any directives issued by any of the Marchgrafin’s assistants, the consequences shall be swift and severe. Is that amenable to you?”
I smirked. “Amenable’s not the word I would have chosen, but sure, that works for me.” I couldn’t help myself. The Consortium is so damned officious. He led me through the inner doors, and the other two agents fell in behind us. My head began to ache as they chanted, little nosey cantrips testing my defenses. For once, my missing abilities worked in my favor. The lack of even minor defenses conveniently sent the message that they weren’t worth my trouble and probably was giving them a minor anxiety attack.
We rode an elevator in silence to the third floor. When the door opened, another set of security guards guarded the floor lobby. They were not taking any chances with Eorla. We walked down a long, stately hallway of pilasters and landscape oils and several closed doors. They led me into a large receiving room, easily thirty feet long and half as wide, a library lined with books I’m sure no one ever read. A healthy fire kept the room a little too warm. A single chair faced me across the wide floor, but I was not offered one of my own. Two of the guards entered with me, and we all waited while the third disappeared without saying anything.
A door at the far end of the room opened, and I was surprised I did not have to wait long for the Marchgrafin. She swept into the room with the first security guard at her heels. There was no mistaking who was in charge. Here we were in her element. I could feel the resonance of Power before she even reached me, some of it from her rings, but her personal essence was considerable.
Apparently, she had not been given the dictate of twenty feet because she continued walking past the chair. The security guards behind me immediately stepped in front of me to block me from her.
I smiled at her. She did not change her expression, but stared at me for several moments.
“Leave us,” she said without moving her gaze.
Behind her, the first security guard stepped forward to stand by her side. “We have orders, m’lady.”
She merely shifted her eyes at him. It didn’t take a genius to understand a sending argument was going on between them. The guard lowered his gaze and flushed. “As you wish, m’lady,” he said with a curt bow. He spoke to the other two guards in Old Elvish, telling them to take up positions outside the door. I found it amusing that they assumed I spoke neither German nor their own language. Once they had vacated the room, Eorla nodded and turned away from me.
“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.”