evident impulse to speak. Margrit stepped back cautiously, still uncertain on her feet, and Biali’s expression shifted a second time as he followed the impulse, after all: 'When do they meet?'
'Who?'
He gave her a look that said she was smarter than that, and made a short gesture, encompassing the ballroom and, most specifically, Malik, who stood at Kaimana Kaaiai’s side. 'Janx, Daisani, all of ’ em, they’ve been rotating by the selkie lord since he arrived. Everyone but Korund, and he’s a fool. The quorum, lawyer. When does it meet?'
'How do you-?'
She earned another flat look from the blunt gargoyle. 'There’s not a memory of all of us being in the same place at the same time in five hundred years, lawyer. There’s always a quorum when we all come together, no matter what the reasons or what’s to be discussed. When does it meet?'
'Monday, I think. Three days from agreeing on holding one. I don’t know where.'
Biali turned away, apparently satisfied, then looked back, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. 'Watch yourself, lawyer. Our kind will tear yours apart with the best of intentions.'
CHAPTER 25
Biali left her, a bolt of white pushing the crowd aside without effort. Margrit stood where she was, watching him go, and was unsurprised when Alban’s voice sounded beside her. 'What was that?'
'I don’t know. Maybe an overture of friendship.'
'Friendship is not something Biali has any talent at extending.'
'Maybe not, but he’s been almost as isolated as you’ve been, hasn’t he? Janx said you were the only two in New York.' Margrit looked over the ballroom, searching for snowy-haired men and women. Those she found had neither a gargoyle’s breadth of shoulder nor the ease of movement that marked the Old Races.
'We are. Our people have never congregated widely in the New World.'
'So maybe he’s finally forgiven you.'
'Or perhaps you compel us all to actions we barely comprehend.'
Margrit glanced back at him with an unladylike snort. 'I’m one person, Alban. One person doesn’t change the world.'
'Tell that to Mahatma Gandhi.'
Margrit put her teeth together, closing off an argument, and stared at the gargoyle. 'Interesting choice.'
'Would you prefer I’d said Osama bin Laden?'
'Not really.'
Alban almost smiled. 'One person can change the world. You’ve become a catalyst in ours whether you intended to or not.'
'You started it.' Margrit pulled a face at her own childishness, and Alban’s near-smile became a full one.
'I did. Perhaps it’s I who’ve changed our world. But it’s you who’s exotic to us, and therefore to be-'
'Blamed?'
Alban fell silent for long seconds. 'That wasn’t the word I intended, but now that you’ve said it, I’m hard- pressed to find another.'
'Oh, thanks a lot.' Margrit wrinkled her nose and looked away. Halfway across the ballroom, Malik still stood with Kaimana, observing the dancers. Tony, taller than either man but less broad than Kaimana, stood a grim watch over them, clearly unhappy with Malik’s presence. 'Biali’s right. They’ve been rotating by Kaaiai all evening. Even when he’s meeting with us, one of them has been close enough to overhear.'
'Us? We haven’t-'
Margrit flicked her fingers at herself. 'As opposed to you.' Another dart of her hand encompassed members of the Old Races. 'You’re the only one who hasn’t paid court, Alban.'
'No. You haven’t, either. Come, Margrit,' he said, when she elevated an eyebrow. 'There were representatives of six races there last night. You, as much as I, are expected to have a certain stake in the final arrangement of power, but you haven’t danced attendance on Kaaiai, either.'
Margrit wet her lips, wishing for the champagne Biali had so handily rid her of. 'I think it might be bad for my health to be more associated with your power balance than I already am. Kaimana and I have already discussed what we have in common.'
'Secret meetings?' There was a heaviness to the teasing that made Margrit look sharply at her companion.
'De facto, yes, but not by deliberation. Not from you, at least. I’ll tell you after the party, if you want.'
'That had the distinct sound of dismissal to it.'
Margrit put her hand on Alban’s chest, smiling. 'It was. We all know you’re a lousy negotiator, but I think you should go loom next to Kaimana for a little while and make small talk. It’ll make the rest of them feel like you’re playing along. It might even worry some of them. Alban Korund, with an agenda? Surely it’s a sign of the apocalypse.'
'You’re a bad woman, Margrit Knight.'
'But a very good lawyer,' she said cheerfully. 'Go on. I have to dance with Janx, so he doesn’t feel left out.'
'Are you trying to infuriate me?'
'You’re not that easy to infuriate.' Margrit’s gaze darted across the room to find Tony again. Alban followed it, then looked back at her.
'Are you trying to infuriate him?' His voice was low.
'No, but it will. I’m not trying to play jealousy games. It’s just the situation.' Margrit passed a hand over her eyes without touching them, for fear of smearing her makeup. 'We were together for a long time, Alban. I can’t help thinking of him. Having you and Janx and Malik-mostly you and Janx-here tonight couldn’t be more of an in- your-face snub to Tony. I don’t want that, but there wasn’t any way to avoid it.'
'We could leave.'
Margrit laughed. 'That’s twice in one evening you’ve been impetuous, Alban. I think the world is coming to an end.'
'Does that mean you don’t want to?'
She looked over the room, then rose on her toes to curl her hands against Alban’s shoulders and steal a kiss. 'It means it’s a fantastic idea. Talk with Kaimana. Let me dance with Janx. I’ll meet you on the rooftop when we’re done.'
'I thought I would have to seek you out.' Janx accepted Margrit’s offer of a dance with a flourish and bow, and swept her onto the floor in a waltz, disregarding the four-four time of the music being played. She clung to the dragonlord, trusting his lead over her own feet.
'You’ve been hovering around Kaaiai so much I didn’t think you were going to seek anyone out. Unless you were planning to ask Tony to dance.'
Janx looked toward the police-detective-cum-security-agent and shook his head. 'Ah, no. I have somewhat more respect for the location of my teeth than that. I don’t like him being here,' he added less blithely. 'Your friend Anthony is a thorn in my side, Margrit Knight, and the more time I spend in his presence, in Eliseo’s, in yours, the closer he comes to finding threads to bind us all together.'
'Threads like Russell? Or my mother?' Margrit’s voice sharpened more than she thought possible, bringing Janx’s gaze back to her, surprise lightening the jade of his eyes. They slowed on the dance floor, in part because the music ended, but more because Janx was absorbing what she’d said.
'Russell Lomax. Rebecca Knight.' He breathed the names with admiration. 'Oh. Oh, Eliseo. Oh, Margrit. Oh, my dears. For Vanessa? For my men? Is this the story you’ve concocted? It’s very good,' he whispered. 'So good I wish it were mine to tell.' New music started up, this time an actual waltz. Janx moved with it automatically, still watching Margrit with respect and regret. 'I am outplayed on every side.'
