Chương 27: Chapter 26 - The Old Friend

"I vote we arrest them all and sic Darius on them." My declaration echoed around the bathroom, making it sound even more impressive. The motel bathroom had one of those tub-and-shower combinations where the tub is too short to be comfortable, but it was better than nothing. After eating a generous brunch, I'd told Conrad that I was going to go soak until I wasn't pissy anymore.

He agreed that it was a good idea—a little too quickly, in my opinion—but he also pointed out that it would take a while and I needed to call Iset to let her know what was going on. I proposed that he let me borrow his phone so I could call while I was in the bath. He mentioned some dumb thing about how I couldn't use my own phone because I'd gotten it wet. I didn't see how that was relevant, said so, and glared at him until he handed me his phone.

There was a bright note of humor in Iset's response: "And Darius is supposed to—what? Take them down like a police dog?"

"He can put them in a small, ugly room and use his inquisition eyes on them," I said.

"That'll make them talk."

"Would it surprise you to learn that not all of Darius's interrogations are successful?" I huffed and slapped the water, enjoying the sensation of the surface tension breaking under my hand. When a couple of water drops hit my cheek, I stopped. A drop or two wouldn't hurt Conrad's phone, but I didn't want to get it wet and give the wolfman a reason to raise his fluffy eyebrow at me. Iset went on, "It's true that he has an advantage over a standard interrogator, but he could tell you, his powers aren't perfect."

"He already has," I grumbled. I watched the ripples tremble over the surface of the water and felt my nervous heart tremble along with them.

"Do you think I should've told them I knew they were hiding something?" I asked. The ripples had settled before Iset answered.

"That's a complicated question, Emerra. Do you have any idea what they could've been hiding?"

"Ayla was probably lying about everything," I said.

"She shut down the moment she saw that sketch. And she's a total pro! Conrad couldn't smell a difference."

"You don't like Ayla much, do you?" Iset was teasing me. I could hear it. I made a sour face at the water. She went on, "It's possible, even likely, that Ayla has seen the lamp before. That makes sense given her reaction. But that doesn't necessarily mean that she took it. It's also possible that she's heard about the lamp or knows something about it without having seen it and wants to keep that a secret. People lie for lots of reasons."

"Why would she want to keep it a secret?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. The most obvious answer would be if she had taken it—she would want to keep that a secret—but if she didn't take it, that implies that the lamp is important to someone other than the lurkers." My stomach sank. The lamp was important. Without knowing anything else about it, I knew that. But no one besides the lurkers was supposed to know it existed!

As soon as I thought that, I realized that it— and the bit about how important it was—were nothing but assumptions that I had zero evidence for.

"What about Brodie Kohler?" Iset asked. I rubbed my forehead with my free hand.

"Conrad said that Brodie smelled really uneasy while we were questioning him and Ayla in the shack, but in the boat on the way home, Brodie insisted that he'd never seen the lamp, and Conrad said he's pretty sure that Brodie was telling the truth—at least, he didn't smell uneasy then."

"But that could've been because he'd already said it. It's always easier to repeat a lie than it is to say it the first time." That uncomfortable thought had already occurred to me.

"And Gladwyn?" Iset said.

"Ah!" I raised my finger.

"That one's easy. He didn't even react until he saw the sketch."

"So you and Conrad both think that he was telling the truth up until then?" I opened my mouth, but half a dozen memories of Count Vasil warning me about trusting my impressions ganged up on me.

"I think so," I said. Iset said, "Which means that you believe that he was surprised to learn the lurkers had possessions, that the Torr never told him about the artifact, and that he's never been in the swamp except for the two times he mentioned."

"But if all of that is true, then how could he have learned about the lamp?"

"Not so easy then." There was a whisper over the phone as Iset let out a delicate sigh.

"To be honest, I don't think that confronting them would've been a good idea. If you'd told them you knew they were lying, there's a small chance it would have scared them into doing or saying something that would give them away, but I think it's much more likely they would've dug in their heels, making it more difficult for them to talk later."

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Darius is better at confronting people. It's hard to intimidate a vampire, and he knows he's got all the time in the world. Whereas, you—""Cry during confrontations and have no patience to speak of?" Iset sounded amused: "Something like that. There may come a time when confronting them is the best route, but we can wait." I—the woman with no patience—dropped my head back onto the wall behind the tub with a dull thunk and let out a groan.

"But what are we supposed to do? Conrad's nose, my eyes—but no evidence we can shove in their faces! It's so frustrating."

"You could come home." Iset's beautiful voice was softer than normal, but the invitation hit like a barb shot into my chest. She went on, "Your job was to find out why the lurkers were troubling Fort Rive, and now we know. If an unknown, unregistered magical artifact is at the bottom of this—" I interrupted: "So the Torr doesn't know about the lamp?"

"No. I looked over the paperwork for the Sauvage Preserve before you left. There were no known artifacts anywhere in the area. Both the cabin and the lamp are going to be a surprise to them, and that means the Torr will have to become involved anyway. You, Conrad, and Kappa could come home and leave it to the local team." My chest tightened around the barb.

"Gladwyn made it sound like the Torr was slow to get things done."

"It will take a few days to get the team together, but—""That's too long." Iset paused.

"Is there a reason you feel that way?" There had to be. The certainty had solidified in my brain, but when I tried to tease out where it had come from, I couldn't find anything—only bits of images and memories. The silent crowd at the grocery store. Olene Durand's profile. The hard look in Gladwyn's eye. An empty hollow in the center of the swamp.

"I don't know," I admitted, "which is going to make it really difficult for you to reason me out of it." Iset laughed. The tightness in my chest eased.

"Well," she said, "if you're willing to stay, I'm sure the Torr would be grateful. You'll be able to help them work with the lurkers when they get there." Now that I knew I wouldn't be sent packing, I could set aside my unreasonable fears and address my more reasonable fears.

"Iset, if we're going to be in the swamp for a while, do Conrad and I need some of those necklace doohickeys to protect us from the extra magic?"

"Conrad certainly doesn't, and I think that Ayla was right—it shouldn't affect you unless you're in the densest areas of magic for several months, but I can double check all the numbers if you'd like." If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The image of the thick white cloud surrounding the cabin rose to mind.

"If you would, please," I said.

"Hey, how come you're so confident that it won't affect Conrad?"

"Lycanthropes have resistance to undirected natural magic. It isn't as perfect as Kappa's resistance, but it's plenty of protection for the Sauvage Preserve."

"Ayla used that term too. What's 'undirected magic?'""Undirected magic refers to magic that isn't being channeled through a spell or device. Do you want a more technical explanation?" I squinted up at the ceiling.

"I don't think so. Does that mean that 'directed magic' is the stuff that magicians shoot at you?"

"Oh, Emerra. Promise me you won't say something like that in front of Olivia." I grinned, but I gave her my word. I heard Iset's chair squeak over the phone.

"And how technical should I get with this answer?"

"For dummies version," I said.

"Most magicians can direct magic at a person, but it's usually done for direct-contact spells. If a magician is going to 'shoot' at you, they'll most often use the magic to create something harmful, such as fire or lightning."

"So if someone tried to cast a spell on Kappa—""It probably wouldn't work. They'd have to add a lot more power and take his resistance into account before casting the spell."

"But if they unloaded a fireball?"

"It would hurt him because it isn't magic at that point. It's fire."

"And Conrad is the same way?" Iset hesitated.

"Not exactly. Resistance to directed magic is different from resistance to undirected magic. Think of it like this—if someone bumped into a wall, it might bruise them, but under normal circumstances, it wouldn't be worse than that. But what if there happened to be a needle sticking out of the wall and they bumped into that using the same force?" I winced at the thought.

"It would go right into them," Iset said.

"How far and how much damage it caused would depend on the person and the amount of force. Directed magic can affect Conrad—his rune wrap wouldn't work if it didn't—but it's less likely to hurt him than it would a human."

"Then why does he hate blessed silver so much?"

"That's spiritual magic, not natural magic."

"Right, right. I knew that." A sudden thought made me feel like someone turned a floodlight on in my head. I sat up, causing the water to slosh in the tub.

"Iset, is there any spiritual magic in Sauvage Preserve?"

"Spiritual magic doesn't occur in nature." My enthusiasm dimmed.

"You're sure?"

"Beyond sure. That's part of what differentiates it from natural magic. Why?" Enthusiasm extinguished.

"Nothing. For a second I thought I was being brilliant and had figured out what was messing with Conrad's senses last night." The silence was a long one. I was about to check if we'd been disconnected when Iset spoke.

"Yes. That is puzzling. When we're done, I'd like a chance to talk to Conrad about what happened."

"There's nothing wrong with him, is there?" I said in a rush.

"I mean, he seems okay now!" Iset laughed again.

"It's all right, child! If Conrad feels fine, then he's probably fine." I flushed. So much for playing it cool. Along with my embarrassment, a smear of nervousness stained my stomach. Stop being stupid, Emerra. She just told you he's fine. Iset went on, "Spiritual magic isn't the only thing in this world that can affect a lycanthrope. I'll talk to him, get a list of his symptoms, and try to figure it out."

"Okay." I took a breath and forced myself to focus on the matter at hand.

"While we're waiting for the Torr team to get here, is there something useful I could do? Do you want us to go back to the cabin?"

"Did you see the lamp there?" I cast my mind over the scene in the attic, but it was a waste of time and I knew it. If the lamp had been there, I would've noticed.

"No," I said.

"Then I don't think you should. The cabin needs to be handled by an expert."

"Iset," I said, completely forgetting my intention to focus, "could a human really live in the swamp? I mean, like, long term? With the magic and all."

"We don't know that they did. It's pretty obvious that the person using the cabin was a magician, but they might have only been using it as a storage area to keep their tools safe and away from mundanes. Even if they did stay a few nights there, from what you described, it sounds like they knew how to set up protection— good protection, if it's lasted for this long." I used my finger to doodle on the surface of the water, trying to recreate the line of runes I'd seen painted on the four walls of the attic.

"Good enough to protect against nightmares?" I asked.

"I think that would depend on what's causing your nightmares." I hummed and drew an imaginary circle around my watery runes. The itty-bitty edge in Iset's voice was enough to distract me from my muddled ideas.

"Emerra, you sound thoughtful." I ran my hand through the doodle, causing tiny waves to roll all the way to my toes. They weren't real runes, but I wasn't about to tempt fate by leaving them lying around.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"It makes me wonder if you have an undue fascination with the cabin," Iset said.

"But it was full of shiny spooky stuff!"

"Yes, my little raven, but if you feel like we're in a hurry, perhaps we should concentrate on the more urgent matter."

"Concentrate! Right!"

"Could you go back to the lurker's settlement and try talking to them again? They may be reluctant now—" I interrupted her. It was rude of me, but I hated the sinking feeling I got in my stomach every time I thought about the situation.

"I don't think it'll work. I'm sorry, Iset. I don't know what it is about me that the lurkers don't like, but if it's intrinsic, there's not much I can do." Iset's chair squeaked again.

"Intrinsic?" Oh! That's right! I'd told her that they wouldn't let us help them, but I'd forgotten to give her the details. I explained about the "intrinsic trait" and how the gift of understanding didn't cover obscure hand signs, making it impossible for me to know what they were referencing. Whatever the sign meant, it apparently barred both me and Vance from offering our services.

"Which is weird," I said, "because I'm pretty sure that Vance is their favorite human, aside from their 'precious' friend."

"Emerra," Iset said, "is Daniel Vance white?" I tilted my head.

"His hair's white." Iset let out a brief chuckle.

"No, child. Is he Caucasian?" My eyes widened. Pale! Old Man wasn't pointing to his throat, he was trying to gesture to the color of the skin there!

"How did I miss that!" I cried.

"I think it comes from living as one of the racial majority," Iset said.

"Issues of race matter a lot less to you." Iset's father was Egyptian while her mother was from West Africa, and she had grown up in a time and place when birth and class decided almost everything; she would be aware of that kind of thing. Wait.

"They won't let me help because I'm white?" I cried.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" she said.

"But if we put aside the injustice of it, the implications are interesting." I was still miffed at the pint-sized bigots, but I did my best to let it go.

"How so?"

"What if I put it this way—the lurkers have been told to be wary of the white men?" There was no floodlight this time. The realization started as a dim glow, but it grew like a sunrise.

"Iset," I said, "Kappa's a child."

"Yes."

"But he's sixty years old."

"Yes."

"How old do they get?"

"We don't know for sure, but our best guess puts their upper range around five to six hundred years old." The only thing I knew about historical dates came from that dumb rhyme about 1492 (and half the time I mixed up the numbers), but I was still pretty sure that some of the lurkers could have been alive when there were more Native Americans around.

"So their friend…" I ventured.

"You said that the magic lamp was old. Do you think it's old enough to predate the white settlers?" Iset asked.

"I'm sure of it."

"Then if we want to learn about the lamp, we should start by learning about which tribes lived in that area. If we can figure out who created the lamp, we might be able to discover what it does. That could help us understand who'd want to take it—assuming it was taken on purpose."

"It's a lamp," I said.

"Isn't its job to give off light?"

"If that was all that it was meant to do, why would they hide it in the middle of the swamp where no one would be able to use it?"

"Maybe it's just some religious trinket or something."

"You should be careful of that attitude, Emerra. Don't forget, most religious items have a practical purpose outside of being an object of worship." I would have to take her word for it. I knew less about religion than I did about historical dates. Iset said, "I can do some research here, but I'd like you to go into town and see if you can find someone familiar with local history. Local experts tend to know more details." My heart shrank back in my chest.

Trying to find an expert among all those silent, staring people would be… intimidating. No. I was lying to myself. It scared the bejeebers out of me. But I wanted to be helpful, and I wasn't going to back down now. Besides, I could start by asking Jay. She was less intimidating. Iset continued, "Be careful who you ask about the lamp directly. If they're initiates, that's fine, but until we understand the situation better, you'll have to watch what you say to everyone else.

You can ask about the tribes in the area, but don't mention the lamp. Or the cabin." The word "initiates" reminded me of a question that had been bothering me since I'd slammed the door on Ayla.

"Is it true that Ayla Davids isn't a magician?" I asked.

"Yes, that's true. There are no magicians in Fort Rive. Why do you ask?" I squirmed my way through a shrug.

"It seems weird to me. I would've thought the Torr would put a magician in charge of important research." I could hear the smile in Iset's voice: "I think your perspective has been warped by living with Big Jacky. The only reason you've met so many magicians is because Jacky works with the torrmen. The majority of people associated with the Torr are only initiates."

"Really?"

"It's much more common to know about magic than it is to wield it." That made sense. Everyone in the Noctis mansion was associated with the Torr to one degree or another, but Olivia was the only magician. Vance and Brodie were initiates simply because they knew about the lurkers. Same with Carver, Durand, and Gladwyn. I wondered how many people accidentally stumbled their way into the world of magic and were never able to stumble their way out again. I sighed.

"All right. I better get ready to go."

"You're going into town soon?" I stood up and reached for a towel.

"I have to. Conrad cleaned us out of most of the food when we got back this morning." I click my tongue at my own negligence.

"And after Igor warned me too."

"While you're there—" In a sing-song voice, I recited, "I'll ask about the tribes that lived in the area, try to find an expert, but avoid mentioning the lamp unless I know, for sure, that they're initiates."

"I'm glad you were listening, Emerra—" She sounded amused again. I hadn't meant to say anything funny, but it's hard to hide a doofus nature.

"—but I was actually going to ask you to pick up a journal while you're out. Look for archival quality paper. It'll be expensive, but I want you to buy the best you can find."

"A journal?" I held the towel to my chest.

"Why?"

"I want you to write down everything you see and everything you can remember. Try to include details about how things looked and felt." My mind wandered over the vast collection of bizarre memories it had stored away since I'd arrived.

"Everything?" I squeaked.

"Emerra, I've been around for a long time and read many things, but you are the first person I've ever heard of who can see what an accumulation of natural magic looks like. There's power in information, and too many problems happen because it's lost. I'm asking you, as a favor to me—as a favor to the world—to share what you know." My cheeks went red, and tiny prickles, the start of tears, gathered at the edges of my eyes.

I could've told her that I wasn't that special, but if I did, she'd remind me that I had the Eyes of the Sphinx—and what could I say to that? I hadn't stumbled into the world of magic; I'd had two legendary eyes slapped into my head and been shoved through the door. And now, suddenly, someone thought I mattered. My heart felt like it was being weighed down by two hundred pounds of bliss.

"Well," I said, forcing a smile so I'd sound lighthearted, "when you put it like that, it's not like I can refuse to save the world."