'My healer and my swordbearer were in company of battle, my lady. Which well we know, also, is unbroken.'
As the water calmed around Glassisle, her reflection steadied. Doc saw that it did not match the figure standing on the surface: there was still a woman there, the same size and shape, but the image below the water wore a cloak of green seaweed and a breastplate of scallop shells, and her bare arms and legs were white veined with blue and silver, like marble.
Doc turned his head slightly toward Mr. Patrise. His reflection also showed full-length in the water puddled on the stone floor, though that shouldn't have been possible given the light and the angle. Patrise's image wore a deep blue cloak lined with red, and bronze armor over red cloth, like pictures of Roman soldiers Doc had seen in books.
Doc turned back to Glassisle, and fixed his gaze on her reflection, suddenly very afraid to look down and see his own.
The water moved and the reflection shattered. A long-nosed dolphin broke water by Glassisle's feet. It gave a screech, then a sound like high-pitched chuckling.
'This is a paladin of mine, Healer,' Glassisle said. 'He has a question for you. A reply would be gracious.'
Doc looked at Mr. Patrise, who nodded gravely.
The dolphin swam to the edge of the pond. It spoke: the words were squeaky, but recognizably English. 'Greetings, Dockallown-ite.'
Doc leaned forward. 'Hello.' Okay, I've been a dinosaur, ami nam Vm talking to a fish.
'How long,' the dolphin said, 'do you carry your young?'
'Nine months,' Doc said, then, 'Three seasons; three-quarters of a year.'
The dolphin nodded, chirping. 'How do you teach them to breathe?'
Doc thought hard. 'Before we… emerge, our lun«; s arc rilled with fluid. That must be drained out. Then we… touch the child, enough to wake it. If it makes a good, loud sound, we know that it is breathing well.'
'And if no… loud sound?' The dolphin sounded intensely interested.
'We can push air in. Sometimes we have to do that foi a long time, with a…'
'Ma'sshine?' the dolphin said.
'Yes.'
'Yes. We arrgga-' The dolphin ducked its head below water, came up making a gargling noise. 'Argue over ma'sshines. But some are good. For life.'
'Some of them are, yes,' Doc said.
'Good thing to learn. Our thanks, Dockallownite.'
The dolphin jumped, stood on its tail for a moment, then dove, splashing Doc with water. He stood quite still. Glassisle laughed loudly.
'We are pleased at you, Healer,' she said, 'and grant you the gift of an Ellyll's life. Use it well. As well we welcome you to visit us
… if you learn to breathe water.'
She sank out of sight below the surface; in a moment even the ripples were still.
The Mani led them out of the building, and the doors were shut with a bang. Doc felt a shiver, and told himself it was just that he was soaking wet in the cold moist air and the lake wind. At the car, Jesse had a towel over his arm; he tossed it to Doc, then draped a blanket over Doc's shoulders. They got into the car.
Mr. Patrise opened one of the drawers beneath the seat, handed two paper parcels to Doc. 'Dry clothing, courtesy of Boris. He said-I quote exactly-'I suppose you're going to see that damp woman again.' '
As Doc changed, Mr. Patrise poured a cup of hot chocolate from a vacuum pitcher. Doc took it gratefully.
'That was important, right?' Doc said. 'The damp woman.'
'It was.'
'Did she give me, or you, the right to kill Whisper Who Dares? Or did I get that wrong?'
'You were given the life of an Ellyll. If you can think of more than one way to interpret that-well, the Trueblood certainly can.'
Doc thought about it. He felt a hollowness under his breastbone. 'Cloud's life…?'
'Is not anyone's to return. But thank you for the thought.' Patrise leaned back and folded his hands. 'Do you want to kill Whisper?'
'And then what? Cut the bullets back out of him?'
'You want to know about that, don't you, Hallow.'
'Yes, I do.'
Mr. Patrise said, 'Do you know what alchemy is?'
'Turning lead into gold.'
'Not really. Alchemy is a way of treating materials as if they had souls. Transforming matter by transforming its spirit. Gold does not tarnish or corrode, which makes it a metaphor for perfection, immortality, spiritual purity. All the alchemical processes are analogies of life processes, stages in the spiritual journey: birth, coupling, nourishment, fasting, shriving. Death and rebirth.'
Doc started to speak. Mr. Patrise looked at him, plainly, placidly, and Doc was silent.
Patrise said, 'Do you know who John Fitzgerald Kennedy was?'
'Sure.'
'Yes. You are well educated for your age and time. The bullet that killed John Kennedy is preserved in a government archive. At least, it is supposed to be the bullet; it was found on a hospital gurney, not in a wound. And it looks barely damaged, perhaps un-fired. Yet it is supposed to have blown through the President's skull and then caused bone-shattering wounds in another man's body.'
'You mean it isn't the real bullet?'
'Much effort has been expended proving that it could be. You know who Kennedy was: do you know that he was confused with Arthur of Britain? That people believed he really was the Fisher King?'
Doc said, 'That was a long time ago.'
'Not as long ago as Arthur, but before Elfland returned, yes. More than thirty years before magic became visible. How long does a spiritual journey take, Hallow?'
'And what… happens to the bullets… once they're changed?'
'I use them,' Mr. Patrise said in a very deliberate tone, 'aa Whisper Who Dares used those people you saw. in the red chamber.'
Doc took a quiet swallow of hot chocolate. He didn't speak.
Mr. Patrise said, 'I also offer the people around mc what Whisper offers those who follow him: security, the comforts power brings, in exchange for loyalty and the best work they can do.'
Doc said, 'If you think I can see no difference between the two of you, you are very wrong. Sir.'
'I am very glad to hear you say that, Hallow. While I very much hope that you see the right differences.' Mr. Patrise picked up the car telephone, dialed. 'Good afternoon, Ginevra. Yes, all is well. I wonder if you would be free for New Year's dinner with a few of us at the house this evening? Formal, yes, but leave that to Boris. No, Hallow has something to attend to at the moment, but he will be there. Shall I have Jesse collect you in… ninety minutes? Excellent. I shall look forward to seeing you.'
He put the phone down, smiled at Doc. 'Sometimes the Gor-dian knot just wants cutting,' he said. 'But it shouldn't become a habit.' wn the sixth of January, Patrise asked Doc to arrive at the Mirada a little after eight. When he did, he found an EARLY CLOSING sign on the locked door. He knocked; Pavel opened up. 'Do come in, sir. Mr. Patrise is expecting you.'
Patrise was seated at his usual table, and with him Stagger Lee, Carmen, Kitsune Asa, McCain, and- unusually-Lucius. Ginny was behind the bar. There was no one else in the room. Since that first, late night, coming in from the cold, Doc had never seen the club so empty. It was disturbing.
'Thank you for coming, Hallow,' Patrise said. 'Take your seat. Ginevra, bring Hallow a drink. Anyone else? This party, and the death of a dear friend, would come near to make a man look sad. Ah. How could I have missed it. Stagger Lee, would you tell Ginevra to set out flutes for everyone. Then go down to the cellar and bring up two bottles of Taittinger.'
'Sir?'
