knife cut him out of time, making it as if he never existed. You will note that this loss does not affect the material world; his daughter still exists. Records of his life exist. Memories of him do not.
I will not attempt to explain the relationship between reality and sentience. A few of your physicists have begun to approach this subject, though their grasp remains limited. Accept that this relationship exists, that tampering with the dead—removing a sentient being from the time stream—disrupts time, and that the excised memories mean the disruption will not heal on its own. Put simply, the fabric of this realm is in danger. The existing disruption has not worsened, so the realm is not yet unstable, but even a single additional use of the artifact could destabilize it. The artifact must be destroyed so time can heal. It must be destroyed before it is used again.
“Mage fire,” Cullen said promptly. “I’ve used it on—”
You have not used it on a named sidhe artifact possessed of vast amounts of magic and arguai. Mage fire might damage Nam Anthessa, but only to the extent that it burns through the restraints laid on the blade. The likely outcome of such a loss is the utter destruction of this realm.
“Oh. Right. No mage fire, then. So how do we do it?”
To destroy Nam Anthessa, one must wield its true name, which no one now alive knows. The name might be discovered were the knife in the possession of one with sufficient skill and patience who is firmly guarded against it, but that is a slow process. We do not have time for me to undertake it. We need Winter’s assistance.
She also needs us. The Queen of Winter has sought Nam Anthessa for many centuries. She wants badly to destroy it.
“If it can’t be destroyed without its name,” Rule said, “and it would take more time than we have to discover that name, I don’t see how involving her helps.”
I will explain, and you will understand why I accepted Winter’s invitation. This is not one of the Queens’ Realms, and the Queens have good reason not to act here. If Winter believes Nam Anthessa is here she will act, but in a way that minimizes her cost and risk. She will seek to take possession of it so she may spend the necessary time and focus to uncover its name, then destroy it herself. She is capable of doing so more quickly than I, but it is unlikely she would finish before the stability of this realm breaks down. Therefore, I will negotiate so that she will send a Hound.
Lily frowned. “A hellhound, you mean? We want that?” According to Arjenie’s half sister Dya, they were bad news.
There are hellhounds and there is the Queen’s Hound. The second begins as the first. I will not explain the distinction now. Both are dangerous, and either will do for our purposes.
“And what will you negotiate with?” Rule asked.
Good question. What did they have that the Queen of Winter might want? The knife, yes, or at least its approximate location, but she must have guessed that, or she wouldn’t have sent the mysterious emissary.
How I choose to bargain with Winter is not your affair.
Cynna spoke. “If this knife can’t be destroyed without its name, what can a Hound do?”
Hounds are exceptions to many things. They are Wild Sidhe, all of whom are dangerous, but hellhounds are feared more than most due to the nature of their powers, which are limited in number but absolute within those limits. They cannot be corrupted or turned aside from a hunt given them by their Queen. They are not true immortals, but they are extremely difficult to kill. And they can kill anything.
“Anything?” Rule repeated.
“Even immortals,” Cullen said, “according to stories I’ve heard. Even a semi-sentient, semi-immortal artifact, I guess . . . because that’s what it means for that damn knife to possess a true name, isn’t it? It’s alive. Aware. Sort of.”
Yes. Because Nam Anthessa is aware, it can employ its own power. It is highly dangerous. Magically, it can compel. Spiritually, it can persuade and corrupt. If you should encounter it before I return, do not, under any circumstances, touch it. Immediately remove everyone from its vicinity, including yourselves. The emissary suggested the equivalent of sixty-one feet for a safe distance, but his knowledge relates to sidhe. I do not know if humans would be more or less susceptible than sidhe.
“Would wards help?” Cullen asked.
Certain types of wards would diminish the effect of the knife’s compulsion. They would not affect its ability to persuade and corrupt, which is based on arguai, not magic. A holy person should be proof against that. I do not know if holiness on the part of one would protect others.
“If it’s that dangerous,” Cynna said, “how can one of these hellhounds be trusted to destroy it? Unless they’re saints—”
Hounds are immune to persuasion. I do not know the mechanism for their protection, but I trust its efficacy.
Isen was frowning. “There must be some reason Winter hasn’t set one of these Hounds on the trail of that knife already.”
She has. They haven’t found it. Hounds cannot be turned away from the hunt, but they require what you might call a scent or a trail to follow. Nam Anthessa is good at hiding its nature. It is worth noting that its call-name translates roughly as Eater of Truth. This is why Winter will not send a Hound of either sort unless she is convinced the knife is here. She is fond of them. If she sends one to us and it fails to find Nam Anthessa before the damage to our realm becomes irreversible, it might be lost to her.
When Sam paused this time, Lily jumped in. “But why is Friar doing this? Why does he want to tamper with the dead, mess up time, and destabilize the realm? How does that help her? She wants a realm and lots of people to rule over.”
Apparently what I thought obvious is not. There was a distinctly acerbic flavor to that thought. If the agent of hers who wields Nam Anthessa—presumably Robert Friar—chooses the right victims for the blade, it will create a rent in the fabric of our realm such that she is able to enter. This is like causing an earthquake in order to knock down a locked door. The door may come down, but there will be considerable additional damage. It seems she is willing to accept such damage in order to gain entry.
The Great Bitch wanted in. She wanted in badly enough to destroy some part of their world to get here. This was really, deeply, seriously bad. “And if this Hound comes here and finds the knife and destroys it, will that restore—dammit.” Her phone was vibrating.
But Lily didn’t have to finish her question out loud for Sam to hear it. I do not know. Time itself will heal. I suspect that the spiritual damage connected with the lost memories will heal as well. I do not know if this means that the victims will regain their memories.
Not what she wanted to hear, but better than a flat “no.” She took out her phone and looked at the display and huffed out a breath. “I have to take this.”
She listened first, then asked a couple of questions. As soon as she disconnected she turned to Karonski. “That was an SDPD homicide detective I used to work with. He wants me to check out what looks like a ritual murder in case the body’s contaminated the way the other site was. Only it doesn’t make sense. There’s two victims, one dead, one critical. But they were gunned down, not throat-slit.”
“That doesn’t work,” Cullen said.
“I know. But if something other than gunplay went on . . . they got the living victim transported quickly, then pulled back because of the risk of contamination, which is exactly what they needed to do, but that means they haven’t examined the scene or the body. Maybe this Nam Anthessa was used in some way other than cutting the throat, and they didn’t see the wound.”
I sense no additional troubling of time. I do not believe Nam Anthessa has been used tonight.
“That’s good. I still need to go.”
“Go,” Karonski said.
Lily shoved back her chair.
So did Rule. “You mean we need to go.”
