'I'm trying to see justice done. I'm trying to see that no more innocent people die to feed some lunatics' ideas of the path to power. I'm trying to…'
'You're trying to get yourself killed,' she said bitterly.
'I don't want to die, Katherine. But I can't let those druids go on with what they are doing.'
'It's not worth it, Sam.'
She finished reassembling the Crusader. He heard the soft click of plastic as she sought the magazine. Sam took her by the shoulders, but she wouldn't look him in the eyes. He felt the movement in her arms as she loaded her weapon. The job was done and offered no more distraction. Only then did she meet his gaze.
'Are you asking me to run away, Katherine?'
'Would you if I did?'
'You know the answer to that.'
'Yes, I do.'
He felt her tense and looked down to see the Crusader pointed at his belly.
'I'm sorry, Sam,' she said.
Sam threw himself violently to his left. He felt the bullet snag his long coat. The smell of propellant harsh and accusatory in his nostrils, he vaulted over the climate control unit onto a lower level of the roof. He ran toward a workshed that offered safety only a few meters away. Her second shot gouged the wall of the shed as he reached it. Sharp fragments of brick spattered into his cheek. He threw himself forward and down, hoping that the sudden maneuver would spoil her aim as he tried to get out of her line of fire. It was a vain hope. His body twisted as he felt a slug slam into his shoulder. Striking the rooftop out of control, he scraped more skin from his already lacerated cheek. He tried to push himself up, but the muscles of his arms failed and he collapsed. His injured arm was numb and cold. He managed to roll over onto his back as she approached him, gun held ready. Her eyes were sad, but her jaw was clenched with determination.
Feeling betrayed, he blacked out.
PART 3
The chittering voices of the leshy grated on Hart's nerves. Hart knew her nervousness was adding to the irritation caused by the humanoids. Irritated or not, she had never liked them or their leafmold smell. However, they were the best choice for the task of carrying the bier on which Sam's body lay. Though the body was concealed beneath a cloth-covered framework, the bearers would know what they carried. The other servants of the Seelie Court would spread gossip. Of course, the leshy would too, but few courtiers ever bothered to pay attention to leshy babblings.
So far she had managed to avoid undue notice since her arrival in Ireland. Bambatu had arranged for the landing pad to be deserted. No doubt he'd had a hand in ensuring that the passages through which she passed were nearly empty as well. The few courtiers she encountered either were too busy with their own business to pay much attention to the covered bier, or were cowed by her cold stare. No one hindered her passage.
The designated court was one of a myriad of open spaces in the gloomy half-forest, half-palace that was Lady Deigh's stronghold. A soft, sourceless light defined a circle just over three meters in diameter. The st of the court was shrouded in darkness. Its floor was moss-covered earth, and Hart sensed great boughs arching over her head, although she could see nothing in the darkness above her.
The rectangular doorway through which they entered the clearing seemed to vanish after they passed through. Hart walked to the circle and stopped on the far side. The leshy carrying the bier almost tumbled their burden to the ground in their haste to stop when she did. She ordered them to set it down and dismissed them. Like children released from school, they scattered, laughing, in all directions.
The clearing grew quiet. The leshy hadn't used the doorway to leave, but Hart suspected she would find the darkness impenetrable.
Hart drank in the silence, using its power to calm herself. Before long, a new rectangle appeared, framing an elven woman. The backlighting silhouetted her slim figure through the diaphanous gown she wore. Hart felt a twinge of envy at the perfection of line and form in the woman's body. For all the illusion in which her court was cloaked, Lady Brane Deigh used none to improve her own appearance.
The Lady stepped forward and the rectangle vanished, restoring the illumination in the clearing to its original low level. She acknowledged Hart's bow with a slight nod of her head, but her eyes remained fixed on the covered bier as she crossed through the darkness and into the light. As soon as Deigh reached the bier, she drew back the cloth. 'He breathes.'
The surprise Hart had hoped to engender was absent from the Lady's voice. Instead there was a slight hint of annoyance. A dangerous hint. Lady Diegh turned her face to Hart, her green eyes almost luminous.
'Is this how you fulfill your orders, milessaratish? '
'A milessaratish serves her mistress. I sought only to further your desires, Lady.' 'By disobeying orders?'
'A good servant fulfills the desire of her mistress rather than the letter of the request. I was told that you wished that the runners stop harassing the Hidden Circle. Was that not correct?'
'It was correct,' the Lady said softly without looking at Hart.
Hart could feel the chill. The earth beneath her feet felt like ice. Fragile ice.
'Killing Verner would not have achieved this end. I have worked with them and know them. They would only have redoubled their efforts seeking to avenge Verner's death. But with him missing, they shall be unsure. More likely they will search for him instead of the Circle.'
The Lady finally turned her emerald eyes on Hart.
'So you have arranged for them to bother me.'
'They will find no connection,' Hart said hastily. 'I used reliable people who have no connection with the Shidhe.'
'If your reputation is half true, you could have made him disappear without bringing him here.' 'Yes. But dead, he has no further use.' There was the slightest thawing in the Lady's attitude as she said. 'And alive, he does?'
'Circumstances have changed before; they may again. Verner is a ready weapon to send against the Hidden Circle should their actions fail to fulfill your expectations. If he were dead, you would need to find and hone another tool.'
The Lady was silent. Hart wondered if she had made the wrong play. Deigh did not like surprises, nor did she like subordinates with too much initiative.
'I do not like being disobeyed, Hart. You were told that Verner was to die.'
'I was told that the actions of the runners against the druids must be disrupted. I took that as the primary goal to be achieved. Verner's death was suggested as the most expedient method of achieving that end, but I saw another way to achieve the goal and retain options. My evaluation of the situation was that his death would jeopardize the primary objective.
'Verner's death would be an irrevocable step. His disappearance could still be just as effective. If he were to remain here in Ireland, no one need know he is still alive, and I can arrange that the world outside your court believe that he is dead. Captivity in place of death maintains his value as a pawn in your schemes. The renegade druids of the Hidden Circle have proven to be resourceful and unpredictable foes. Should circumstances arise in which Verner's skills and talents would be of use, he will be available. If he dies, he ceases to be a factor, and you will have permanently expended a potential resource.'
'You were thinking of my best interests, then?'
'Yes, Lady.'
'Hmmm.' The Lady studied Sam's face. A sly smile flitted across her lips. 'I begin to see possibilities in what you have done. Mortals can be so… entertaining.'
Hart found herself bothered by the Lady's words, and even more by the possible motivations behind Deigh's fleeting smile. Hart hadn't brought Sam here only to have him become a plaything for a jaded tart who deluded
