Changer's Daughter (58 page)

No one even looks doubtful. Anson appoints himself spokesman for the rest.

“No objections. Let the woman stay. She has already proven her wisdom in offering to depart.”

“Then,” Eddie says, “Aduke, we appreciate your concern, but we welcome your help and advice. We must ask, however, that you never speak of the more fantastic elements we raise.”

Aduke nods solemnly. “I promise. May I ask one question?”

“Yes.”

“What is this ‘Accord’ you have mentioned?”

“It is the set of laws that governs the group to which all six of us belong.” He glances at the Changer, but the Changer gives a slight nod indicating that he does not mind being mentioned as if he is a signatory, though he is not. “One of its cardinal tenets is that we will not—unless there is no other choice—kill a member of our own company.”

“And Shango is also one of you?”

“He is. Nothing he has done, thus far, has broken the Accord, although he has stretched certain new provisions rather farther than many will like.”

Aduke nods. “I’m glad to learn that this Accord of yours does not condone mass murder.”

Eddie forbears from mentioning that it doesn’t precisely forbid it. Aduke will be more comfortable if she doesn’t know just how little restraint the Accord puts on its members’ interactions with humanity.

Katsuhiro says impatiently. “Now that we’ve settled this, can we move on? The night grows no younger.”

Anson pokes him. “Stop fussing. I tink it no becoming in a samurai, eh?”

Glad that he didn’t need to chide the Japanese, especially when he’s in a bad mood, Eddie rubs his five o’clock shadow.

“Now, kidnapping Shango will not be easy if he stays inside that electrical plant. It can be done, but there will most certainly be casualties. Therefore, we need to lure him out.”

“Send Kehinde in,” Aduke suggests. “He looks just like Taiwo, and Taiwo is trusted by the minister.”

Eddie nods. “That’s not a bad idea. However, it would mean taking Kehinde into our confidence. I’m not prepared to do that.”

“Oh.” Aduke looks abashed. “I hadn’t thought of that. He would be easy enough to bribe. I know he longs to hear some of the stories he is certain Oya has. He would do anything for that.”

“Still,” Eddie says kindly, “I would not like to put an innocent scholar at risk. However, at least two of our company are masters of disguise. Anson? Changer?”

He notes Aduke’s surprise when he names the white man, and admires her restraint when she does not question.

“My Yoruban,” the Changer says, “is adequate but somewhat archaic.”

“I could do it,” Anson says. “I’d enjoy it, actually. If Taiwo remains repentant, I should be able to get him to tell me enough for me to pass as him.”

Aduke is obviously bursting with a desire to ask how Anson can disguise himself as a man far shorter and with a heavier build. Twinkling at her, Anson waggles a finger.

“Eddie did say that I am a master of disguise, did he not? Have faith.”

Aduke smiles. “I do, Eshu.”

“Where would be the best place for you to lure him?” Eddie continues. “Changer?”

“The electrical plant is at the edge of the city,” the Changer replies. “Normally, it would be somewhat isolated, since there are only factories and such around it. However, with the military cordon around the city, the area is swarming with men.”

“Even at night?” Katsuhiro asks.

“I suspect so,” the Changer says. “I can check when we are further along in our planning. Dakar, do you have any idea what guard shifts are?”

“I don’t know for the electrical plant in particular,” Dakar replies.

He has not touched anything alcoholic since the promise of military action began, and Eddie is astonished by the difference in him. He makes a mental note to tell Arthur that the best way to keep from having trouble with Dakar would be to give him more steady work of this kind, rather than the occasional troubleshooting/punishment mission.

“However,” Dakar continues, “they are using six-hour shifts right now: six to noon, noon to six, six to midnight, midnight to six.”

“Sounds like a charm of some sort,” Katsuhiro mutters.

“What time is it now?” Eddie says, ignoring him.

“Eight,” Oya supplies.

“Then we could move in after the midnight shift is on,” Eddie says. “That gives us the cover of darkness and a potentially tired group of guards.”

“It worked last night,” Dakar protests, “and for that reason, I don’t think it will work today. Shango must know who made that attack on Regis’s compound. He’s going to be shitting bricks tonight. We won’t catch him asleep, neither him nor his guards. They’ll be waiting for trouble.”

“Good point,” Anson shrugs. “So when then?”

Aduke raises her hand. “In the morning, when the streets are filled with people going to market. Soldiers won’t want to fire weapons, and civilians will not want to get involved in other people’s business.”

“Clever girl,” Anson says admiringly. “She’s right. Moreover, a visit from ‘Taiwo’ will seem more normal then. We could even send a note tonight indicating that Taiwo hopes to sneak to Shango later. He’ll spend all night asking himself questions and when Taiwo arrives, Shango won’t be able to refuse to see him.”

The Changer nods. “I’ll carry the note when I go scout out the best place for us to take Shango so that we can restrain him.”

Dakar gets up from his seat. “And I will go learn if the guard shifts at the electrical plant are the same. Perhaps Oba-san can work out how to restrain someone who can throw lightning. I believe he and Shango share some talents in that area.”

Katsuhiro brightens at the prospect of making a useful contribution. “I will do that. Tell me, how do we get Shango out of the country without drawing unwelcome attention to ourselves?”

The Changer smiles. “If everything else is under control, I can send a message to my brother. He can certainly arrange for transportation that will not be questioned.”

Eddie bangs an imaginary gavel on the table. “Then this meeting is adjourned until we have more data.” He turns to Oya, who has been far too silent, and speaks to her in a lowered voice. “Oya, are you going to be able to lower the wind when we need to get out of here?”

She frowns. “Aduke and I will look into that. The Changer has raised some interesting points.”

Eddie sighs, noting from the other’s expressions that they have overheard, but that since he did not make the issue public, they will hold their questions for now. That won’t last, but he’s grateful for it now.

“I was afraid of that,” he says.

For a fleeting moment, he wishes he were back in Albuquerque, where the problems are little things, like wondering if sasquatches can go to rock concerts or satyrs sing and dance. Then he pushes that lovely thought aside and goes to make certain that Anson is not outclevering himself in the note he is composing under the Changer’s indifferent eye.

22

Love your enemies. It makes them so damn mad.

—P.D. East

T
he morning following Shahrazad and Louhi’s arrival in Albuquerque, Chris Kristofer watches Ian Lovern pace back and forth in front of the King’s desk. Chris, sitting discreetly in a corner, his laptop open, ready to take notes or send messages at the King’s command, thinks the wizard looks much more invigorated than he had when he had arrived at the Albuquerque airport.

Just as Chris had been the one to locate him, calling casino after casino, then bullying a staff member to check the card tables, so he had been the one to meet the wizard, to brief him on the situation, to run a few errands for him.

When he had arrived, Lovern had looked so tired that Chris doubted he could be any help. A meal or two and time away from the debilitating metal frame of the aircraft had helped, but when Wayne and Louhi had arrived, he had still been worn—so worn that he had not detected the lurking presence of Shahrazad and the griffin.

The estate’s wards only cover the buildings, not the sprawling acreage surrounding them, but from what Chris had learned, if Lovern had been at his best, he would have been able to sense the newcomers.

All of which makes his transformation into vigor all the more astonishing. Tense and excited, the wizard badgers the King.

“What has Louhi done wrong?” he asks for the third or fourth time. “That’s all I want to know.”

Arthur sighs. “As we have discussed before, her controlling the human Wayne Watkins is against the policies of the Accord. I know, I know”—he holds up his hand to forestall Lovern’s interruption—“Louhi is not a member of the Accord. We ourselves ruled her out of Accord as punishment for her role as Sven Trout’s accomplice in the doings last September. However, her manipulation of the human has led to the death of two athanor: the werewolf, Lupé, and the son of the Raven of Enderby.”

“Dark-Feather,” Chris provides helpfully.

Arthur nods. “Those two deaths are on her head—and after the losses we suffered in September, Lupé’s death is one that Harmony can ill afford.”

With undiminished enthusiasm, Lovern surges back into the argument.

“But we don’t know for certain that Louhi was responsible for the deaths. Yes, she may have drawn this Wayne Watkins to her, but we have no proof that she commanded him to kill.”

“However,” Arthur says, “if she had not drawn him to her, had not provided the protection under which he moved onto the OTQ land, he could not have gotten past Frank’s guardians to do his damage.”

“We don’t know that!” Lovern protests.

“None of Frank’s charges has died on his own land from anything other than natural causes,” Arthur counters, “in all the time he has owned the OTQ. I think that statistics are in Frank’s favor.”

Lovern remains defiant. “I’d say he was due for some bad luck.”

“The ‘bad luck,’” Arthur replies coolly, “was that he was kind enough to take Louhi into his house.”

Lovern changes tactics. “He wouldn’t have had to take her into his house if she hadn’t been transformed into a mouse.”

“True.”

“And that transformation was unauthorized by the Accord.”

“True again.”

“And even then,” Lovern persists, “no one made him take her in. She could have been set free.”

“From the earliest reports that Frank sent me,” Arthur says, his patience wearing thin at last, “Louhi and the Head both were little better than automata for the first several weeks of their transformation. Without his protection, they would have been eaten by the first cat who found them.”

Chris is startled by a rough-edged feminine voice coming from one of the other chairs.

“Most certainly, they would have,” agrees Purrarr, queen of the Cats of Egypt. “We hunted most enthusiastically after Sven Trout, and many a rat was eaten in the days that followed his escape. A mouse is even easier prey.”

Lovern glowers at the cat. “Who invited you in here?”

“No one,” Purrarr says equably around licks to her tail tip. “They say a cat may look at a king. I wanted to look.”

“And listen!”

“And listen,” she agrees, sitting up to paw at her whiskers. “Why did you ask for us to be brought here if you didn’t want our input?”

“Your magic is useful,” Lovern replies shortly. “I wanted you here in case I needed to draw on your support.”

Purrarr stares at him from unblinking eyes. “We are not amulets to be drawn on at your will, Ian Lovern. We will have our say in how our magic is used.”

“Everything,” Lovern mutters, “is a goddamned democracy these days!”

Chris swallows a laugh. The more he sees of athanor government, the more it seems more like poorly controlled anarchy to him. Remembering Demetrios’s e-mail report of the satyrs’ adventure, he has to swallow another chuckle. Then he feels a sudden chill. What had happened in Las Vegas is only funny because Lovern located the satyrs before, say, the hotel had grown unhappy with their antics and called in the local police. What if they hadn’t been found?

Arthur is saying, “Lovern, you have tried long enough to convince me that Louhi is guiltless. Accept that I will not agree. However, you have raised a question in my mind. Why did she come here? Why did she break out of Frank’s keeping rather than merely inform him that she was unhappy being a mouse?”