Mortal Ties (44 page)

“It is always a shame to curtail the more pleasant aspects of conversation, but you
have a saying—‘needs must when the devil drives.’ I agree to this.”

“I have two points of immediate concern. The first is the other two hostages. Sean
Friar believes you are going to free him, unharmed.”

“I have given him my word that I will do so, or, if I should die, my people are in
turn bound to see it done.”

“I hope you will forgive a question asked out of ignorance. Under what circumstances
would you consider breaking your word?”

“None.”

Lily lifted her eyebrows. “None whatsoever? Not to save your life, your world, a roomful
of tiny babies?”

“I suppose if I were tortured long and artfully enough that my mind broke, the creature
who remained might do any number of things I would not.” She picked up her cup
and sipped. “A piquant aroma. Short of a death, which destroys the person if not the
body, I honor my word.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Did you give your word about Adam King, also?”

“Adam King is held by Benessarai, not me, but he will act according to the code. What
was your other concern?”

“I must ask you to return my ring.”

“Oh, surely not.” The halfling smiled at her over the rim of her teacup. “That is,
surely you don’t expect me to hand you a totem containing…but your language doesn’t
have a word for this. We call it
arguai.
”

“Grandmother is often vexed by the limitations of English.” Lily set her cup down
in the precise manner she would have used had this been a proper tea ceremony. “I
called it my ring. This was misleading. The band itself is mine, but the charm on
it was entrusted to me by my clan. My honor—the lupi would say
du
—is involved.”

“I can assure you the ring is safe. It will not, however, be returned to you. Do try
the berries. We don’t have their like in our realm, and I am quite infatuated with
them.”

Lily had learned what she needed to. The
toltoi
did possess some kind of power, one the elves recognized. One they thought she could
use. She ate some strawberries, commented on their sweetness, and asked if Alycithin
planned to include strawberries in whatever trade deal she was negotiating.

“Perhaps, though I am not sure the plants would thrive in our climate. We are very
interested in obtaining a good supply of duct tape. A remarkable substance, and one
that will not be affected by the higher levels of magic in my realm the way your technology
would be.”

Duct tape? Really? Lily dragged her thoughts back on target. “Excuse me for saying
this, but you seem to be going about your negotiations rather awkwardly. Sean told
me that your people consider hostage-taking an integral part of doing business. You’ve
been here long enough to know that we don’t do things that way. In fact, part of my
job is to arrest people who do things that way.”

That amused her. “And how long have I been here?”

“A lot longer than two weeks, obviously. Are you able to shift between realms without
a gate the way some sidhe do?”

“You will find that my people take a long view. In the short term, your people will
not appreciate some of our practices. In the long term, you will discover the value
of doing business our way. Already your corporations are gratifyingly eager to import
some of our wares.” Alycithin held out the plate of bread. “Won’t you try some? It’s
from a bakery Dinalaran found, and is quite good.”

Lily accepted a slice. “Is Dinalaran the one with the SIG or the one practicing spellcasting
over by the TV?”

Alycithin had eyebrows. They weren’t obvious, blending in as they did with the short,
golden fur on her face, but she had eyebrows. She raised them now. “He stands behind
my chair. Aroglian practices runic writing. You are familiar with such practice?”

“I have a friend who fiddles with spells that way.”

“Ah. Cullen Seabourne. The…your word is
sorcerer
.”

“The guy who made the device everyone is so eager to get their hands on, yes. Though
I admit I’m puzzled about why
you
would want it. Your Gift works a lot better than any device could.”

Silence. One heartbeat, two…just long enough for Lily to be sure that arrow had hit
home. “Whatever do you mean?”

Lily tore a piece off the bread and popped it in her mouth. Alycithin was right—it
was good bread. She washed it down with tea. “Your Gift is really good at hiding things.
You can’t do outright illusion the way the elves can—that’s why Dinalaran or the other
guy does the driving, isn’t it? Going unnoticed works great unless you’re in the driver’s
seat of a car. It upsets people if they don’t notice a driver in a car. But in many
ways, your Gift is better than straight illusion. It’s not just that you can knock
everyone out, though that came in handy last night. You can baffle wards and Find
spells. You can hide whatever needs to be hidden. Coming like you do from a place
where magic is used for
all kinds of things, that must be a very valuable talent. A very rare one, too, I’m
told.”

Alycithin tipped her head to one side. “You have been told things I did not expect
anyone in this realm to know.”

“And you have not been told some things you need to know. Like about Robert Friar
and the war you’ve landed yourself in the middle of.”

“Oh, that.” She brushed it off with a graceful gesture. “I am aware that he and your
lupi consider yourselves at war. This is why he will trade what I want for you.”

Lily took another sip of tea and prepared to roll the dice. “Your realm must be subject
to Queens’ Law.” The sidhe realms had many rulers but only two queens: Winter and
Summer. The queens had great power and only a fistful of laws, but when they said
“thou shalt not,” they meant it.

Those subtle eyebrows lifted subtly. “You know of Queens’ Law?”

“Some. There’s one that says no one is allowed to invoke a certain Name.” Lily ripped
off another bite of bread, but didn’t eat it. She looked squarely at the halfling.
“Do people in your realm know about Rethna? What he did, what he tried to do, and
what happened to him?”

“Stop.” Alycithin turned to the elf standing behind her, who’d watched Lily closely
the entire time. The one with the gun. She said something short and musical to him,
then to the other elf. They didn’t like it. They argued—at least Lily assumed that’s
what they did, because although they sounded terribly polite, Alycithin responded
in a voice cold enough that their balls should’ve shriveled on the spot.

The two elves bowed and left. Not the apartment—they went into another room. A bedroom,
Lily thought, though she only caught a glimpse before the door closed on them.

Alycithin turned back to Lily. “They do not speak your language, but they understand
some of it. I would protect them from hearing that which can be dangerous to know.
Why do you bring up Lord Rethna?”

“Because you haven’t landed in the middle of a war between Robert Friar and the lupi.
The war is between the lupi
and the one we don’t name. Ever.
She
is who Rethna invoked, and
she
is who Robert Friar serves. You may not be invoking
her
name yourself, but if you’re helping Friar, you’ve signed up on the wrong side.”

Silence stretched out between them. Alycithin didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t even
blink. Lily’s heart pounded. She was gambling big-time now. Alycithin might not give
a tinker’s damn who Rethna had served. She might be on the same side as Friar, already
recruited into the Great Bitch’s service. She might simply not believe Lily.

“And why,” the halfling said at last, “should I believe you?”

“Why did you send your people out of the room? Why did you leave Sean out of our little
tête-à-tête? Why have you allowed me to steer the conversation so far? Something’s
already bugging you. Something’s not right. That’s why you wanted this chat.”

“It is customary to dine with one’s captives or see that they have other company for
meals. The code calls for captives to be treated civilly. This includes providing
opportunities for pleasant conversation.”

She sounded abstracted, however, as if she were speaking automatically while her mind
was busy with some other subject. Lily decided to take a step back. T.J., her mentor
in homicide, used to say that once a fish takes the bait, you let him run out the
line. Grandmother put it another way: it’s best if your enemy persuades himself to
do what you want. “You were right about the bread,” Lily said politely. “It’s delicious.”

“We were pleased to find a good bakery, as none of us possess that skill. Tell me,
Lily Yu…but we never did settle on what I am to call you, did we?” Her smile was a
work of art, warm and lovely. “We use few titles, and I am not familiar with the nuances
of those you use. What title do you prefer?”

“Special Agent is correct. But why don’t you call me Lily?”

“Lily. A pretty name. It sounds similar to our word for a
certain type of happiness. Your English does not have an equivalent. It is the happiness
one feels at a pleasant surprise.”

“Given your remarkable command of English, you probably know that here in America
lily
means a type of flower. But I was named for my grandmother, who is Chinese.”

“I do not have any Chinese, I’m afraid. Is it permitted to ask what it means in that
tongue?”

“Oddly enough, it has no precise meaning. This is uncommon with Chinese names.” Should
she ask what Alycithin’s name meant? Cullen said names were a big deal to elves, but
what kind of big deal?

“Languages are interesting, are they not? My language has many more names for some
things than English does. For example, we have sixteen words that would translate,
if rather poorly, as
enemy
.”

“Does that mean you see sixteen types of enemies?”

“It does.” Alycithin took a moment to select a slice of fresh pineapple. “We have
only seven words for
friend
. It is…what is your phrase? Ah, yes. It is a sad commentary on us that we have so
many more words for enemy than for friend, yet we find these distinctions useful.
Of course, three of our words for
enemy
also denote a friend, so the imbalance is not so great as it seems.”

“We call that sort friendly enemies.”

“Yes, that is one type—enemies for whom one feels some cordiality. There are also
enemies who seem to be friends, aren’t there? Hidden enemies. And those with whom
one would be friends if not for other circumstances. Such as, for example, having
given one’s word.”

“Circumstances can be a bitch.”

Amusement gleamed in those bright green eyes. “
Bitch
is a rude word in your culture, I believe. Yes, sometimes one regrets that someone
who is
so’elriath
—ah, that is an enemy for whom one feels no hostility, one who is simply on the other
side—cannot become a friend, perhaps of the fifth degree. But once one’s word is given,
it must be adhered to.”

“Of course. But what was that other word? The one for
someone who would be a friend, under other circumstances.”

“
So’amellree.
That is the word in the feminine. My language is somewhat like your Latinate tongues,
but it is not the adjectives we change to suit the gender of the noun. When appropriate,
we make the nouns themselves either masculine or feminine to suit their referent.
So’amellree
,” she said, looking Lily directly in the eye, “refers to a woman who would have been
a friend, perhaps of the fifth degree, had circumstances been different.”

“
So-amel-ree
,” Lily repeated. And smiled. Bait taken. Alycithin might be going the long way around,
but she was swimming in the right direction. “Do you have a word that means the enemy
of my enemy is my friend?”

T
HE
conversation with Ruben took longer than Rule expected. Ruben had persuaded the president
to order the secretary of commerce to visit the sidhe delegation at their hotel under
some diplomatic pretext or another. In an hour or two the secretary would arrive and
be amazed to discover that some of the delegates were missing. When Rule got off that
call, he started to touch Tony’s number when his phone vibrated.

It was Tony. One of his wolves had found the scent, but at a location north and slightly
west of the hotel. Did Rule want to check it out?

He did, once he learned where it was. He called Special Agent Bergman and asked her
to meet him there. Rule got there first and congratulated young Ed, who was extremely
proud of himself and wiggled all over in delight, his tail wagging madly. Ed’s escort—a
tall, morose city cop—watched with disbelief. “If that’s not the damnedest thing,”
he said. “Damnedest thing I ever did see. I could swear he understood everything I
said to him.”

“He’s not a dog, officer. Most of the time he’s a man.”

“Still.” The cop shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever did see.”