Tempest Rising

Page 50

That’s when I realized that the voice was mine.
And all eyes of the Alfar Court were on me.
I should have worn the underpants, I thought, as my brain began to understand the implications of what my mouth had just done. Because I am so going to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
All eyes were on me: some curious and some clearly shocked. Ryu’s eyes expressed the latter sentiment—he was staring at me like he’d never seen me before in his life.
I blinked, still unable to believe that I had been the one who spoke.
Crawl under the table!Now! my brain was shouting, but my feet were rooted to the floor.
It was only when Jimmu began to move toward me that Ryu seemed to recover. He moved in front of me, toward the central dais.
“May I approach, my King? My Queen?” he requested, his voice strong and clear. Orin and Morrigan nodded slowly in unison, and Jimmu halted.
“Please forgive my companion’s outburst,” he said, moving out into the center of the aisle but still leaving quite a bit of distance between him and the nine nagas. “She did not mean to say that our esteemed colleagues are lying. Rather, she was voicing our shared opinion that there must be a deeper mystery to these murders.”
There was a murmur of voices from all around us, as various beings whispered back and forth. They were probably placing bets on how long Ryu and I would live, and I had a pretty good idea that the odds were not in our favor.
“After all,” Ryu continued, smooth and confident as a silk bustier. “How could a mere human take on two full-grown goblins?” He paused for effect, and I saw a number of heads nodding. He was playing his audience like a fiddle.
“It’s not that I doubt the nagas’ word,” he said, ever so earnestly. “I know how loyal Jimmu and his nestmates are to their master, but perhaps—just perhaps—this human only played a peripheral role in the murders.” I enjoyed Ryu’s little jibe at Jarl but I didn’t like him giving any credence to Jimmu’s slaughter of an innocent. Meanwhile, I could see that the nagas had tensed slightly and had shifted their positions so that they were just that much more defensive. Their snake tongues were furiously sampling the air, tasting the crowd’s reactions to Ryu’s words and trying to anticipate what would happen.
Orin and Morrigan were looking into each other’s eyes and I got the feeling they were silently communing. Jarl took the opportunity to butt in, and I caught the slightest edge of desperation to his voice as he tried to regain control of the situation.
“What is the meaning of this disturbance, Ryu Bao-bhan Sith?” Jarl interjected. “Your words are a clear provocation against my foster sons and daughters who have served our community so loyally. You say that you mean no slight, and yet you imply that they are, indeed, deceitful. I appreciate neither your spoken words nor their unstated implications.”
Ryu’s hazel eyes had widened, expressing his—entirely feigned—disbelief at Jarl’s words.
“My lord,” Ryu said, appearing aggrieved. “I am very sorry if I have given the impression that I doubt the nagas’ loyalty. I am absolutely certain that they performed their duty faithfully. Undoubtedly, this human was somehow involved in these murders.” I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Ryu had to do what he had to do.
“I am simply voicing the view that many of us have expressed since hearing of these dreadful crimes—that a human cannot have been wholly responsible for these murders.” Many heads were now nodding, and the murmur of the crowd increased but Ryu pressed on, his voice rising in volume to combat the din.
“But there is, of course, a fairly simple way of proving or disproving this theory.” With these words the room went silent.
For a split second I saw a flash of concern cross Jarl’s face, although the nagas remained as impassive as statues.
Morrigan’s eyebrow arched elegantly. “Continue, investigator,” she commanded.
Ryu’s voice betrayed not a single note of triumph, but I knew him well enough at this point to sense that was what he was feeling. The set of his shoulders, the slight uplift of his chin—everything about his posture said “check, and mate.”
“My Queen.” He bowed. “Knowing that Jarl had set his most trusted servants the task of discovering the murderer, and knowing that they would perform their duty tirelessly, I thought it wise to bring with me a piece of evidence from my own investigation of these crimes that might be helpful in ascertaining the true guilt of the murderer.”
Throughout the room glances were being exchanged—no one had known that Ryu had any role in the investigation. A few shot me curious looks—his showing up at the Compound with a halfling in tow probably made a lot more sense.
Ryu, meanwhile, had nodded toward Wally who stood up and began fishing around in his enormous pantaloons. Finally, he pulled out the shopping bag that Ryu had picked up from Nell and Anyan’s cabin. Wally waddled over to give it to Ryu, who gave the djinn a tight grin and a curt nod. Wally returned Ryu’s smile benignly, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They gleamed with anticipation and aggression. I quailed internally, noting that the genie did not return to his seat but instead backed to the edge of the aisle, remaining close to Ryu.
“I have in this bag the weapon that was used to kill Peter Jakes,” Ryu explained, pulling out the bloody stone and holding it aloft. “A stone spirit has already confirmed that this rock can identify who wielded it.” Ryu paused, letting his words sink in before nodding to his king and queen. “My Lord,” he said. “You have the power to ask the stone to identify the being who saturated it with Jakes’s blood. I sincerely hope that it will justify the actions of Jimmu and his nestmates. But in case there is an element of this investigation that they have accidentally missed, then that, too, will be revealed.”
The entire hall held its collective breath as the Alfar lord and his lady again silently communicated. After what felt like hours, they turned to face their Court.
“It will be done,” Orin’s aloof voice rang out, as he stood. “Hold the stone aloft.”
Ryu raised his arm, carefully balancing the stone on his open palm. The nagas were tense, and I saw one of them casually reach behind her to adjust the hilt of her sword. They were preparing for action. I started looking around for exits.
Orin raised an arm, and I felt the stirring of a power even more intense than that unleashed the night Nell opened the trunk of Peter’s car. The air was crackling around me and my hair escaped from its updo to whip around my face. I had to hold onto the table, until suddenly the power seemed to solidify and focus on Ryu. Everything went quiet, although the air was pulsing with energy. I knew now what people meant when they spoke of the calm at the eye of the storm.
All eyes were focused on the stone, which was now floating just above the reach of Ryu’s outstretched palm. It spun frenetically in the air, occasionally darting this way and that only to return to its starting position above Ryu’s head where it hovered uncertainly. Orin’s features sharpened as he concentrated, and the stone suddenly stopped spinning. Everyone held their breath, except for me. I took the opportunity to take off my shoes. I knew what was coming.
There was a sharp gasp from the nahual next to me as the stone suddenly shot toward the central dais as if it had been fired from a cannon. There was another, more universal, exclamation as the stone whizzed straight over the pile of man parts, darting unerringly through the air and straight toward Jimmu’s head. The naga’s serpentine reflexes whipped his hand up and he caught the stone gracefully, its weight smacking resoundingly against the flesh of his palm.
“No!” Jarl cried, a look of absolute anguish disfiguring his features, his hand clutching at his breast. “Jimmu…” he whispered, reaching out his other hand toward his favorite servant.
The naga shook his head fiercely, dropping the stone and reaching for the hilt of his sword. It hissed its release, the sound echoing through the hall as the other nagas all unsheathed their own weapons.
“You do not control me, Jarl,” the snake man broke in, to Jarl’s evident surprise. After a split second, the Alfar second-in-command seemed to recover himself.
“Jimmu?” he repeated, only this time his voice was questioning.
“Jimmu and his nestmates act on their own,” the naga said, firmly. My eyes narrowed. I think the Christian just threw himself to the lions.
Morrigan’s voice was still low and heavy, but there was an element of tension to her tone. “Are you admitting to your guilt?” she asked.
“Yes. I killed the halflings and the goblins.” Jimmu’s voice was as indifferent as if he were ordering coffee.
“Why, Jimmu?” Jarl asked. I wondered if he were asking why Jimmu was sacrificing himself or if maybe—just maybe—he had genuinely been in the dark about Jimmu’s actions. I hoped that was the case, but something told me not to get too attached to that idea.
“Halflings are abominations,” the naga replied without hesitation. “They are defilements, corruptions. They deserve to die, as their very existence makes a mockery of our society.”