'Tb what end? Do you intend to kill him?'
'He must pay for what he has done.'
'Recovering the stone is more important,' Laverty reminded him.
'That is my first priority,' Urdli said.
'If you can regain the stone, you have no need to kill Verner. Likely, he will give you. the stone if you ask for it, and offer to help set it back in place. I think he acted in ignorance, though I'm sure he has a reason for what he has done.'
'What reason could be good enough?'
'Of that I'm unsure. I, too, would like to know. So much puzzles me about that man.'
As always, Laverty's curiosity got in the way of necessary ends. 'Puzzles are an idle man's pursuit, and I can no longer be idle. I must not rest until the stone is recovered and we know where this man stands in regard to Rachnei. Tell me where to find Verner.'
The address Laverty gave him meant nothing, but the library's computer held maps.
Dodger forced his perception out of cyberspace. Normally the consensual hallucination by which meat operators could deal with the intricacies and machine speeds of the Matrix was advantageous. But his investigations were anything but normal, and his usual working methods had become something of a liability. To make sense of the shifts in some of the icons he was perceiving would take seeing real numbers and machine code. He thought he knew what was causing the shifts, but wasn't sure. He suspected that the shifts were signs that the AI was out there. Once, it had made the Ren-raku matrix shimmer with mirror planes of infinity and had ghosted icons to evanescent translucency. The shifts he was observing could be within its power.
It was out there. It had to be.
Hours evaporated as he studied the data he had snagged during the run. Periodically, he connected his deck to the Matrix for short, directed research runs.
His latest cup of kaf grew chill, becoming just another in the row of forgotten cups. His neck muscles cramped into iron stiffness. Each lead only unfolded into more perplexing possibilities, leaving him frustrated, intrigued, irritated, and fascinated. His absorption was so intense that he only became aware of the telecom after it had been chirping for some time.
He didn't want to be disturbed, but hadn't thought it necessary to inform the telecom's dog-brain to hold calls because so few people knew his current comm code. Now someone wanted to talk to him. Suddenly aware of his own physical discomfort, he was even less interested in interfacing with anyone. The telecom continued to chirp. The caller was persistent. Ah, well. He was already disturbed. And he was getting nowhere at the moment. He hit the 'Save' key on his cyberdeck to hold his current position. Just as well. He would be better off doing some thinking before pursuing the search. Tugging the datacord from his temple jack with one hand, Dodger reached across with the other to tap the Tel button to open the line to his caller.
The screen glowed to life and the slender, worried face of Teresa O'Connor sharpened into focus. This disturbance disrupted more than just his work. Buried feelings stirred, and he knew himself vulnerable again. ' 'Dodger? You look like hell.' 'Ah, lady, and a fine day to you, too. I thought you didn't wish to speak with me.' 'I never said that.'
Was that hurt in her expression? Or annoyance that he should presume to know her desires? 'You made your position clear when you left London with Estios. He is well, I trust.'
'Well enough. He doesn't throw things at the mention of your name anymore.' 'Nor any less, I expect. But I am unkind. I am sure your gentle influence has soothed his raging spirit. He treats you well?'
'Dodger, I don't want to talk about this.'
'Very well, lady.' He didn't really, either, but somehow his bitterness had spewed forth. 'As ever, I cannot refuse your wish.'
'That's drek, Dodger,' she said, without heat. 'We both know better than that.'
He deliberately ignored what could be construed as an invitation to intimate discussion. As little as he wished to discuss what was, he desired even less to dredge up what might have been. ' Tis you who placed the call. A situation of some gravity must portend. If so, I shall listen. But if 'tis of little import, I shall be distressed, for I have other matters pressing.'
'Hope Twist isn't involved in them.'
When that seemed all she was willing to say, he prompted, 'Why, pray tell?'
'Your friend's in a lot of trouble.'
Again she fell silent after a single portentous, yet uninformative, statement. Given the source of the call, however, Dodger thought he knew just what kind of trouble she meant. How had Estios found out what was going down tonight? That effing tight-assed elf had sworn to kill Janice just because she was a wendigo. How long had he known she was in Council lands? Was he going to disrupt the ritual?
'How did he find out?'
Teresa looked surprised. 'You know about him already?'
'Of course, I… backspace. This isn't about Estios, is it? Who are you talking about, Teresa?'
She ran her tongue across her upper lip, reminding him of other times. She looked worried, almost as though she wanted to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching, but her discipline wouldn't allow it. Still, the rigidity of her stance told him that this was very serious business.
'I'd rather not name him,' she said. 'Especially on this line. Call him an old friend of the professor.' He had been right about the seriousness. Dodger had had more than enough of the professor's old friends years ago. Most of the time they were trouble, even when they were on your side. 'Tell me the tale.'
'This, ah, person, thinks Twist stole something from him, some kind of magical guardian stone. I don't have the details, but it involves a certain something that came out of a well. I'm not sure what this person plans to do once he hunts Twist down, but I think he's going to kill your friend. This person's honor has been stained.'
Guardian stones and wells. That spoke of magic and affairs Dodger understood only vaguely. One thing he appreciated was that this matter touched on the dark doings of the professor's connections. Whoever this mysterious person was, he would be a magician and someone dangerous to cross. Sam Verner, as usual, had stepped into drek and sunk in over his head. Everything Dodger could learn, anything Teresa would tell him, increased Sam's chances. 'Might you describe this person, that I would know him when I see him?'
'On this line? No more than to say he's Australian. I'll send you a package. But you'd best get moving. He just left for Seattle.''
That was the first good part of the conversation. 'Well, he's headed in the wrong direction. Twist has some business out of town and he's left the plex already. ''
Teresa did not look relieved. 'He won't give up easily.'
'Do they ever? Fear not, I shall get word to Twist.'
'Be careful, Dodger. This person may not care who gets in his way.''
Her voice sounded sincere, and matched her expression of distressed concern. But how could she be truly troubled? She had made her decision, and he was not her choice. 'Your anxiety is touching, fair damsel.
Spare no care for my safety. Having had experience of the professor's friends and their honor, I shall be excessively careful. Twist will get word tonight, just before he leaves on a long, unscheduled vacation.'
The night was already cooling down, with the sun gone behind the cone of Mount Rainier for more than half an hour. With the moon climbing in the sky, the time was fast approaching.
Sam tried to ignore the sounds of argument coming from the other side of the rocks, but RikM Ratboy's shrill tones made it difficult. The weedy street shaman was trying to justify backing out on his promise to help with the ritual. Hart's soft but firm voice was pointing out that if Rikki intended to welsh on a promise, she would make sure that everyone on the street heard about it. In reply, Rikki wailed that he had been tricked into promising.
Rikki was all bluff. His noise hadn't started until Janice and Ghost had arrived. One look at the wendigo had set the Rat shaman off. If Manx had reservations about focusing the ritual on a wendigo, she hadn't revealed them. If she objected, it would have given Rikki the encouragement he wanted, and both the street shamans would now be long gone. As long as Manx was willing, Sam was sure that Rikki would stay. The Rat shaman wouldn't want to lose face in front of anyone, especially a Cat shaman.
Rikki and Manx would join Sam in performing the transformation ritual tonight. Their mix of totems might be odd, but the traditional rivalries of the animals were no bar to their working together. A shaman's totem
