Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) (24 page)

The blood began to darken as the symbol set and gradually faded from sight, although I could still see it vaguely glowing when I unfocused my vision and concentrated.

“By The lord of the hunt and the stalker of the stars, I call onto you who watch to attend this message and let none but my blood break this seal and read my words.” Power poured into the blood and I could feel it saturating the note with power. I closed off the flow and felt the spirits turn to other interests although they were still attached to this note in some small way.

I went down into the common room and found Webber arguing with a customer who wasn’t sure if he should really pay for the beer he had drunk because he felt it didn’t meet his high standards. Weber countered his argument with a blackjack and that statement seemed to carry a lot of weight with the customer, who went face first onto the bar. Webber came around the bar and undid the customer’s purse and took out a few coins and retied it and put it back on the unconscious man. Apparently, Weber was not a thief. He signaled to a largish looking bouncer who slung the fully paid customer onto his back and took him through a door and closed it behind him.

“Trouble?”  I asked as I took a seat at the bar.

“No not really, Sometime Mueller drinks a little too much and doesn’t want to pay. He’s got no head for beer and gets a little nasty. I give a little tap, take what he owes me, along with a little for a room and let him sleep it off. I would just kick him out when he comes in, but he’s always got coin, so I let him drink. Get you something?”

“No, my head hurts already. What I could use is someone to run a message for me. Somebody trustworthy enough to stay bought.” I searched Webber’s face to see if I had pissed him off. Apparently, the concept of someone staying bought was fine by him and didn’t offend.

“I got a nephew. He’s okay. Not real bright, but scared as hell of me and he’ll do what I say.” He look questioningly at me.

“He’ll do. I need this,” I said, holding up an envelope addressed to my father, “delivered to the addressee as soon as possible.” He took the envelope and scanned it. His eyes widened a little.

“Don’t get nervous.” I told him. “I just need to get this to him quickly.” I slid ten pieces of moonstruck silver across the bar. I didn’t even see them disappear. “We have a deal then?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure that he gets this to Lord Stav-.“ A harsh look from me stopped him midsentance. “I mean, to whoever it says here on this envelope, right away.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for. Discretion coupled with speed. He is to wait for a reply and then delivery it as quickly as possible. How soon can my cloak be repaired?” I asked.

“Jenna’s already got your cloak sewn and cleaned. If you give me the rest and I can have’em ready to go in an hour or so.”

“No. Just the cloak will do.” There was no way that I would take a chance on sitting around in a dive like the Titan’s Club in my skivies, while being hunted by a ruthless gang of murderers in a city I hated. I would hope that my cloak would cover any obvious defects in my attire, at least until it wouldn’t matter anymore.

I went back to room and waited. Waiting is something you have to get used in the game. Most of the time as a detective you spend a lot of it waiting for something to happen. You develop little tricks to help pass the time. I usually imagine what I would have done differently and try to determine if my position would be better or worse. I usually fall on the slightly better than average side. I don’t always make the right choices, but I usually avoid the abysmally stupid ones. I thought back to the decisions I had made in this case. There were a lot of mistakes, most of them flowing from being personally involved in it. It’s a lot harder to be dispassionate and coldly analytical when your own are under fire. Not removing the damned tracking spell, especially when I should have remembered that Jeryn had already used it to find us at the mound. Really, I should have thought of it before then and that mistake had cost me Marty. Not removing it had cost me Dalia.

A soft knock came at the door and I got and opened it and a young man with dark hair. He wore clothing that had often been mended but was clean. His eyes were sharp enough and he held out an envelope that bore the seal of my father’s house. Really, I guess it was my house too although I had never claimed it. I gave him a few small coins and closed the door.

I broke the heavy seal and felt a locus of power loosen as it verified that I was indeed the correct person to breaking it. A single sheet of paper was in the envelope and I pulled it out and quickly read it. My father’s elegant script agreed to the meeting place I had suggested. Wonderful.  Now all I had to do was show up and hope that I was correct in thinking that my family name meant enough to him so he would hear me out. Of course if it was a trap then there was little I could do. It was time for one last draw in the last hand. All the chips were on the table and this was my last play unless I won this pot. I just hoped what was there was enough to get me back in the game.

The mortal district is always tumultuous and today was no exception to that condition. I had chosen a meeting place that was on the edge of the mortal district. Often fey will like to slum a little and want to keep it quiet. Such places are popular for many purposes. I suppose the main one is sex, but occasionally as a neutral meeting site to conclude deals. I suppose that I may have given the impression that mortals are an underclass, and to some extent that is true, but in many ways the Bright Kingdom could not exist without them. They do a lot of the work and since most Fey wouldn’t consider taking time from amusement to actually engage in business, a lot of business. Sure, the Fey are still the cocks of the walk, but without mortals and half breeds there wouldn’t be much to crow about since the fey have so few children between them. It’s a screwy system, but everyone knows the score and as long as nobody gets too pushy about who’s doing what, things will keep going along nicely.

Aran’s Staff was ostensibly a bakery and it did bake bread, but it’s most lucrative product was privacy. They make a decent cup of joe and I am told that you can get incredible beignets there. I wouldn’t know. More importantly, for a few coins it was possible to engage a room that was shielded from magical eavesdropping. I suppose someone could use conventional bugs like I use on the other side of the veil, but I think Fey would find it gauche to use technology when they have access to magic. They are all about magic and use it even when not doing so would serve them better.

I rented a private meeting room and ordered a pot of coffee, full service and told the waiter that my guest would arrive shortly. While I waited I unfocused my vision and saw that there were indeed wards up. I couldn’t tell their exact nature, but I would guess they were privacy wards rather than defensive wards. These were pretty good ones and looked like they were renewed regularly. When you lay the same spell on a place time and again it sort of resonates with a kind of thumping beat. You have to listen for it, but it’s there. These laid a solid beat that seemed etched into the wood. I let my vision focus as a waiter brought in a pot of coffee held in some kind of magic carafe, probably designed to keep the coffee hot. There were several cups on the tray along with the full service I had requested. I poured a cup and waited.

It didn’t take too long. My guess is that he was watching the place and waiting for me to show up and get settled. He stood framed in the door waiting for an invitation. He was tall, I noted, and as well formed as almost all Fey are. He had the ageless look that they exhibit so easily. He wasn’t wearing a glamour which was a little unusual for a Fey but not unheard of. He looked like he was in his mid thirties, but that meant nothing. I looked about the same age and I was 104.

Back when I was much younger and more curious about such things I had investigated my father.  He was over 1500 years old, from the heyday of court during Oberon’s reign and was probably born around the time of the signing of the Compact. I suppose it is possible for a Fey to die of old age, but I have never heard of it. Death by misadventure is much more common. He had his rises and falls within the Court power structure, depending on faction and fashion. He was currently an unknown quantity as he should have been at least 3
rd
circle and maybe 2
nd
just due to his relationship with the current Lord of Dawn. My guess was that something involving Dalia’s mother, Lady Mayletha, had gotten him demoted to 4
th
circle. How much political clout he had I did not know, having not kept up with court politics for a long time.

My father was handsome as most Fey are and his demeanor was kind, even though I knew better. He was well dressed but not ostentatiously, as many Fey do, but well enough to avoid notice. He carried a blade, probably a rapier and probably a live blade instead of a ceremonial one like the one I left in Serlish’s crispy corpse.

“Mr. Underwood?” My father had strong voice but kept it subdued. He seemed to be calm and in control, I wished I had felt the same way.
              “Straight to it, huh?”  I asked as he nodded grimly. A note of agitation and perhaps of anticipation appeared in his eyes for a moment as he squelched them. He glanced at an empty chair and I waved him into the seat. He sat and waited.

“Fine. We’ll play it that way ‘Father’, if that is how you want it, I have no objection.” I was having trouble reading his face. I wasn’t used to this. Most Fey wear glamours and don’t bother to control their feelings beneath the mask. I had gotten used to knowing what their faces showed. Lord Melliscant face was a mass of conflict kept under pretty tight control. Occasionally a hint of something would slip through, in this case disappointment.

“Why are you here Mr. Underwood? Why have you called me here?” His voice was again calm and level.

“Lord Melliscant, I can’t imagine that you have forgotten my Naming Day ceremony. It is tomorrow, is it not?”

“That is correct. But that does not explain why you have summoned me here.” Flat and inflectionless still.

“You know, ‘Dad’, I find it hard to believe that someone with connections as high up in the court as you are could possibly be so clueless.” I was taking my anger out on him for all the slights of the past century and I suppose my frustrations over recent events had made me a little rude and testy. He didn’t react. This actually made me more pissed off, if possible. I hadn’t realized that I had so much anger stored for later use. I decided to make it even worse.

“Nothing to say? Very well, then I will do the talking. I have come to claim a Noble’s Privilege. You may not care to admit it, but I am your son and as such I have certain legal rights that not even you can deny. I am your son and of your house and I claim my privilege and if you don’t want the name Melliscant smeared across two courts and several realms and sub-realms then you better unload with a little of that political clout that I am sure you still carry around like so much loose change.” I inwardly smirked as I thought about the difficulty I was placing him in. I studied his face and was shocked to see not anger, but joy. Restrained it’s true, but it was there none the less. I was damned confused but could see no path but forward.

“Do you ask freely and claim my name of your own will?” He stumped me with that one. The look of confusion must have been apparent on my face because he asked again. “Are you under some compulsion or geas to release my vow or will you release me from it freely?”

“What the hell are you talking about? What this vow crap? Will you grant my request for a Noble’s privilege or not?” I had no idea what he was talking about but I wish I did, because just once on this damn case I would like to know what the hell was going on.

“I cannot. Not until you, as an Underwood, release me from the familial vow I gave your grandfather.” There was obvious excitement in his face and I have to admit I was intrigued. I knew nothing about this vow, though, and in general I don’t like changing the status quo, especially when I have no idea of the consequences. I had learned that the hard way in the Depression. Still I had no choice. I had to have the protection that a Noble’s Privilege would grant me. I needed his influence to save Dalia and to get that bastard Callisandra.

“I release you.” He said nothing and I sighed. It probably needed to be more formal than that. The Fey are sticklers for this kind of thing. So I tried again. “I, Jake Underwood, scion of House Underwood through matrilineal descent of Mary Underwood, by way of Mathis Underwood do hereby relinquish any vow that House Underwood holds over Lord Stavros Melliscant, holder of Lord Kareen’s Blight and House Melliscant.” I paused to catch my breath. “Will that Do?”

A look of triumph crossed his face and unfettered joy and I hoped that I hadn’t just signed my death sentence but I couldn’t imagine why he would have waited all these years to deal with me just because of a vow. There were ways around such things. It was difficult, but not impossible for a full blooded fey lord.

“Alright, tell me about this vow you gave my grandfather that I just lifted and whether you will grant my request for a Noble’s Privilege or not!

“I have waited a long time for this, so very long, over a century, and now that the time has arrived my son, I am not sure how to proceed. First, let me ease your mind about your request.” He was smiling. The bastard was actually smiling. What the hell was this all about?

“I gladly grant your privilege and will use all my influence and resources to help you in any way I can. I have waited so long to actually talk to you, so long and there is so much to say and little time to say it in.”

“I appreciate that you want to save the family name but you don’t have to pretend so hard. I know how you feel about me and have made peace with your indifference a long time ago. You have ignored me for over a century and you can right back to despising and ignoring me as soon as we get this little problem taken care off.” I was very confused but figured this was yet another odd Fey game that I just didn’t get.

“You think I hate you? Whatever made you think that? It is true I was never able to talk freely to you, but I never did anything that should have led you to that conclusion. I was enjoined by my vow from seeking you out or having anything to do with you and curse me, I kept it. Nevertheless, I never did anything that should have made you think I hated you.”

I was stunned but even as he said it I thought about my interactions with him over the years and more importantly his with me. They were damn few and they were also kept to a bare minimum that custom would allow. Now that I thought about, the few times we had collided had all been events that I had instigated. At all those meetings he had been taciturn and distant. I tried to think of personal incidents that I could point to that showed his dislike of me and other than an assiduous kept distance of me I could find no direct actions.

“What the hell is going on here? My grandfather told me-“

“He lied.” He spat. “He lied to you from the first time he ever told you anything about me. Oh yes, I am sure that he broadly told you some of the truth but never all of it and often in details that could not help but make you feel abandoned and unwanted. Worse, it’s my fault that he could do this.” He looked down and I could see that this was dragging up old pain and despite what I thought about him, I regretted seeing that pain.

“Great, what exactly do you mean by that? You have been a non-figure my entire life and you say I have it wrong? What exactly do I have wrong about the fact that you wouldn’t have anything to do with me?”

He sighed. “It is a long story, a story for a time when we are not pressed by matters that cannot be postponed. For now, know this; I loved your mother with a great and powerful love. It consumed me in a way that few can know. She was my life and I ignored all else. I knew her father disapproved of me but when you are blinded by the sun, who cares about the night? When…when your mother, my wife, died, I was insane with grief. I wanted to follow her into the dark lands. There was nothing but darkness and insanity. There is no excuse for it and to my eternal shame I forswear you to your grandfather. I told him that I wanted nothing to do with the son that had taken my love. I am ashamed to say that I was crazed with grief and that I couldn’t love you or even want you near. I swore by the Compact that he could have you, Adversary take you, and that by my will, my eyes would never see you nor my lips speak one word to you.”

That was pretty much what I had always figured. I knew he hadn’t wanted me around and he never said anything to me unless I spoke to him first, which I had done damn few times. Even so, hearing it said from his lips, with such vehemence brought up all the old feelings again. I could feel the rage that I thought I had extinguished to indifference burning again.

“Days passed and even my dark grief was not a great enough pool to drown my responsibilities as I was reminded by those to whom I owe fealty to. In a few days my rage and grief lessened to a point where I was once again sane. I realized with horror what I had done and I went to your grandfather and I asked him, no, I begged him, begged him to release me from hasty and ill spoken vow. He flatly refused. He was a crafty mortal and knew the strength of my vow. I surmised that Mary had told him of the Compact and somewhat about how it worked. He told me that I had taken his daughter and that I had taken enough. I had given you up, by a vow of the Compact and he would hold me to that vow as long as he lived and he would do his best to make sure that you would have nothing to do with me or would ever release me from the vow I had made.”

I was stunned. How long I sat there trying to piece together this story and match it with what I knew of my grandfather and what he had told me over the years, I don’t know. My grandfather had loved me. I was sure of this. But how could he have done this if he had? I could not believe it. I wouldn’t believe it.

“So you’re saying that it was a vow to my grandfather that made so many Fey treat me like crap over the years?  Half breed whelp always seemed to be a particular favorite.”

“No. My vow only kept me from seeing or talking to you. Most of the insults you received over the years arise out of the considerable prejudice among many full bloods about chimera. Further, my enemies enjoyed insulting you knowing I could nothing about it. But most of that is just pig headedness and fear.”  He sadly shook his head. “No, I am afraid that most of what you experienced is just an outgrowth of an older problem.”

“My oath kept me from seeking you out, contacting you or doing anything about letting you know how much I wanted you in my life. All I can do is ask for forgiveness. I tried many times to get you to come to me, but your grandfather had done his job very well indeed. You chose not only to have anything to do with me, but almost nothing to do with your Fey heritage as well. All I could do was watch. I petitioned the emperor to be released from the Compact and all my lands and privileges, anything that would break the vow. The Emperor refused of course. No one is ever released from the Compact, especially close acquaintances of the Emperor.”