Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) (25 page)

“I don’t believe it. This is all just some story, some deep Fey plot that just doesn’t track for me. You’re lying.” He looked sad, but not surprised. “Look. I have no reason at all to believe anything you’re telling me. All my life I have thought of you as a bastard and so far I have no reason to think otherwise. This could be just another elaborate Fey plot, especially if what I think has been going on is true, then you would pretty much say exactly what you said because you might still need me. I know what I am about to say is damn insulting, but would you be willing to swear by the Compact at the risk of being declared Unclean that what you have told me is the truth?” He said nothing for a moment. I had just told him that his word wasn’t trustworthy and that unless he was vouchsafed by some outside source I wouldn’t believe what he said.

“I can understand why you think what you think.  The last time I swore an oath that strong by the Compact I lost you for over a century. But if that is what it takes, then I am willing to do so.”

I looked at my father with new eyes. It was hard to see past all the pain and hate I had stored up over the years, but there was a core of me that knew he always kept his word and that his family honor was very important to him, more important than his own life.

He stood and walked to where I was setting and before I could protest kneeled before and pulled out wickedly sharp knife that he carried at his waist. With a quick movement that I had trouble following he sliced open his palm and squeezed, letting the blood drop to the floor.

“Jake Underwood Melliscant, my son of flesh and blood, I swear by the Compact and by this blood that I freely offer that everything I have said this day to you is true not only in word, but in intent. This blood is my pact and may it boil forth from my body and the Adversary claim my spirit if I am forsworn.” He looked at my face impassively.

Yikes. That was probably the most powerful oath I had ever seen sworn. He risked not only a declaration of being Unclean but offered his spirit to the Adversary, who we do not name, if he spoke untrue.

I could feel the power of his oath in the room. It was bond that was watched by great powers, baleful and benign and it made me shudder to feel their gaze upon me. A sort of reddish tinge clouded the edge of my vision and everyone else seemed so far away. It was like a cloud of crimson smoke that swirled about me and my father with tendrils seeming to pierce my flesh. It burned but left no mark.

I was enough of Fey to know a true oath when I heard it and enough of man to accept that I could be wrong about what I had thought. Years of bad experiences with the Fey part of me that refused to let anyone get close warred with a human desire to believe that it was true, that my father did want me and that I wasn’t a castoff. My human heart won over my Fey side and I reached out with my hand and grasped his bleeding hand and stood, pulling him to his feet. I could think of only one thing to say:

“Father”

I wish I could say that we said all those things that fathers and sons, long separated are supposed to say. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time. My confrontation with Serlisch had stirred up the local police pretty well and while they probably didn’t know where to look, they were looking. Besides, time was pressing. My Naming Day ceremony was the next day at the midday hour and there was no avoiding it. There was a lot to do in a pretty short time. My father, it still seems odd to use that word without cursing, had a carriage waiting on a nearby street and we waited until nightfall and then we made our way to where it was parked.

We were met by a smallish mortal who stepped down to meet us. He was dark skinned, but not black. He might have been from India or someplace in the tropics. Inwardly I sighed. Sometime the Fae really take the British model too far. He started to speak but my father quieted him with a glance.

“Gunga Din” gave a polite bow and opened the door to the carriage and we piled in. It was comfortable, naturally, and when I started to tell my father about the past week he shook his head. I realized that I was being foolish. He was a noble Fey and that meant there was a pretty good chance that he was being watched by somebody, maybe court security, maybe his enemies, who knows? The point is that I didn’t know and that could get us killed. We needed someplace quiet and safe to talk that was absolutely secure. This was his world more than mine and he undoubtedly knew it far better than I did.

The trip through the darkened streets was tantalizing. Here and there lights would move and play in windows and in the sky. With so many craft users about illusions and phantasms were common and were for amusement more than a serious attempt to deceive. The Fey think of themselves as artists and they extend this to every aspect of life. Using illusion as art is a logical step. At home I can do some minor things like bumps and flashes of light. I could probably do more here but nothing like what I was seeing. There were dragons of course. The Fey fear and love dragons for many reasons, one being that they are one of the few creatures that have as long a potential life as their own and another for the awesome beauty and fearsome destructive power of the beasts. Luckily, the Dragons all slept in distant realms and didn’t disturb the mortal or Fey worlds. Some were better formed than others and I took this to be young will workers learning their craft. The best one was an iridescent blue serpent that cavorted about the sky. It pranced and peeked into windows and chased people. I saw other things in the night too and wished again that Dalia was here to share it with and to tell me how it compared to the Court of Twilight. The trip was not long and neither of us talked.

This was the first time I had seen my father’s townhouse. It was a great pile of stone and it looked old. I wondered if perhaps it was a remnant of some stronghold once built as a garrison or something. I could see murder holes here and there and hoped that there was nobody planning to use them anytime soon. A large wooden gate opened and we drove into a small courtyard. The door to carriage was wrenched open by Gunga Din, (whose name I learned later was James) and we got out of the carriage. Other servants came boiling out of their holes to deal with the horses and we made our way into the massive pile of stone.

It was surprisingly light inside. From the outside appearance it looked like it would have a dank, dark look. Instead there seemed to be a warm breeze wafting through the halls and a diffused light that seemed to come from unseen recesses in the wall. As he led me past archways framed with gossamer curtains, I noticed that the breeze was scented with some flowery scent but that it didn’t move the curtains.  I let my vision unfocus a little and a saw a plethora of magical effects. The place was lousy with it. At some point we went up a flight of stairs because when he opened the door to a large drawing room I notice that I could see a terrace looking out onto the early evening.

He beckoned me to a comfortable leather chair and he sent James for refreshments. I ordered Bourbon, neat, and my father had some local brew with a long name that sounded vaguely musical. After James served us, leaving me a bottle, he closed the doors and I was again alone with my father. I took a sip of very good bourbon and waited for him to make the first move.

‘Jake, my son, now is the time to tell me exactly what has brought you to me at this time. Of course, I know about the Naming Day ceremony, after all I could hardly be excluded from that no matter the oath. I had believed that it was requested by you for some reason that I couldn’t understand, perhaps as a matter involving your investigation business, now I think that must not be correct.” He saw me look at the open terrace and smiled. “This room, among others is heavily shielded from scrying. In here, even my own men, well meaning as they might be, can’t hear us. Everyone needs a private space and this is mine. Use your sight if you don’t believe me.”

‘You know about that, huh?” It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him but caution is one of those things you have to practice all the time or the time you really need it, you won’t have it. I let my vision fall about the room in the magical light and could see that this room was heavily warded indeed. The place bristled with defenses. They weren’t just passive either. There was a scrambling ward that turned attempts back on the scryer. I recognized it from a case a few years back. There were many I couldn’t identify,

“First it feels a little weird to call you “Dad” or “Father”. Can I call you Stavros?” he nodded. “Stavros, I have to admit that a lot of this case is beyond me. It’s a huge tangle and stinks of politics. Most of the cases that I deal with are just basic human, well mainly human, emotions like greed, hate and jealousy. My usual method is to find a place to start and keep pulling at things until something bites back. There’s a too much going on here that I don’t know about, so I am just going to tell you what I know and what has happened. Maybe you can make some connections from what I tell you with the political stuff that you know about.”

There didn’t seem to be any reason to hold anything back, especially if I wanted his help, so I didn’t. I started with Kevin’s death following my summons to a Naming Day ceremony I didn’t know anything about. I told him about the Sergeant Angel Bermuda and about the odd signals that were coming from the investigation. He wasn’t happy when I got to the part about Jeryn Callisandra and his face got even stormier when I mentioned Dalia. I don’t know how long it took for me to get through the thing and end with Serlisch being pinned to the burning counter, but eventually I did.

“Unacceptable!” I started to protest. “No Jake, not what you told me but what has happened. Someone is rolling dice and playing with my family. My family! I won’t have it.” He stood up and paced, considering his course of action. Perhaps five minutes passed and then he stopped and opened the door to hall. He turned to me.

“I think I have an idea of who can help us with this problem. He’s an old friend of mine and he owes me a favor or two and I cannot think of a better reason to call them in. At this time of night he might be difficult to reach, but I think I can find him.” He smiled. And once I know who is responsible for this dog’s dinner then I will have satisfaction.”

And that was just like a Fey; debts of honor, vendetta and vengeance were bread and butter for them. I couldn’t let it go down that way. I mean, sure, I wanted someone to pay for Kevin and Marty, but if there was a chance that I could get Dalia back I would take it and worry about revenge later.

“Stavros! Don’t forget about Dalia! I am sure she was alive when she was taken from the shop. We need to save her and worry about feeding the ghosts of the dead later. She’s important.”

My father smiled sadly at me. “My son, you do not know me or you would know that I could never forget Dalia. Family is very important to me. Now that you are safe, Dalia is my most important concern. But if my suspicions are correct, I will need help to set things right. In that regard, I ask that you stay here, at my house until the ceremony.”

That didn’t make me even a little happy. Trapped here while Dalia was being held by Callisandra? Not Hardly.

“Think. Use the skills learned on all these investigations of yours. I have far more resources available here than you could possibly have. Wandering around a city you barely know, while constables look for the “murderer” and arsonist who set part of a block alight is foolish. In fact, the only thing probably keeping Dalia alive is the fact that Callisandra doesn’t know where you are. You know too much about his crimes, more than enough to get him strangled as a traitor to his oath to Lord Cabor Klaris. He will keep Dalia alive as long as he thinks he has a chance to get to you. Once he has you, then your life and Dalia’s no longer serve useful purpose. He will kill you and drop your body in some well where no one will ever find it. The only way you can help Dalia right now is by staying safe and staying alive.” He was calm, I’ll give him that. I was seething, but he was cool as water. Worse then his unshakable demeanor, he was right damn it and I knew it.

“What do you expect me to do, sit here and drink bourbon all night?”

“That is one option, although I do not recommend it. You will need to be sharp tomorrow and a hangover can’t make that easy.” He smiled as James came in and received orders to get the carriage out again and put his best pair of blacks back into harness. The instructions came fast and furious; a bath to be drawn for me and his personal physician and his tailor to be summoned at once. It was easy to tell that he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

“Personally, I would recommend the bath, some food and rest. My personal healer will attend you. He is loyal to my house.” He turned to go but paused at the doorframe. “And certainly a visit with my tailor is in order. He can be here in an hour or so. Those clothes you are wearing are not appropriate for a Naming Day ceremony and certainly not for my son. You need something that befits who you are.”

“Look, I appreciate it, but that’s not me. The closest I get to fancy is well pressed pinstripe suit.”

“That is as may be, but you are my son and you have claimed a Noble’s privilege. You have claimed the name of Melliscant and it is right and proper that you be dress as befits the House of Melliscant. Remember, claiming my name carries not only privilege but responsibility as well. You are a Melliscant and you will dress the part!” He finished with a flourish and a dramatic exit.

I smiled. That speech was pure fey. I wondered, if maybe deep in the house, there was room, suitably warded where Fey nobles went to practice that kind of thing. Maybe they did a bunch of different ones and saved them up for every occasion. I guess it didn’t really matter because he was right. My makeshift clothes were good enough in dim light and for the street but would never pass muster in a proper ceremony and it looked like I was going to have one whether I wanted it or not.

I sat back in the comfortable chair and tried to rest. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep. Whether it was Jervalas Stormcrow’s hell brew or worry about Dalia or grief over Marty, it just wouldn’t come. It was hard to believe that it had only been a day since he died. To me it felt like a bridgeless, unfathomable gap, a distant land that I could see but never get to.

After about an hour, another Fey showed up who looked to be a chimera, like me. I couldn’t tell exactly and it is considered rude to ask so I waited for him to tell me what he wanted. It turned out that he was a tailor who was being paid an obscene amount of dough to gussy me up. He was very insistent.

How long he took measurements and showed me swatches of cloth, I’m not sure. When he finally he had enough he created an illusion of what he was going to create for me. It was a little disconcerting to see a double of myself so stylishly dressed and smiling at me. The clothes that he showed me were intricate and handsome and I told him so, nevertheless, I think he was a little disappointed that I didn’t have more suggestions for him. I think he was more used to customers who were really into court fashions and knew their own tastes well enough to ask for exactly what they wanted within the bounds of current taste. My only input was “nothing too flashy” which I suppose was not of much help.

I have to say that he did really fine work. I looked damned good. I’m not sure if it was the current fashion or not but he seemed to think it would pass the court’s and more importantly, my father’s muster.

When the physician showed up he was friendly enough but had enough of a haughty manner that he was either a doctor or a Fey. As he was both you can probably get some kind of idea of how high handed he was. Smug as he was, he knew what he was doing. It didn’t take too long for him to fix me up. He was, as you might figure, a practitioner of the craft. He healed all the superficial stuff pretty quickly, although the effort made me lightheaded. Healing magic is like that. Too much of it can use you up.

              He tried to do something about the headache that I’d had since I got the concussion in the first firefight. He frowned and when I asked him what his problem was he said there was some kind of stimulant running through my system that he didn’t know of or approve of. I told him about Stormcrow’s little pick me up and he informed that just taking such things was a bad idea and interfered with his work. He was leery of giving me any kind or drug or magical aid because he wasn’t sure what kind of interaction it might have and that what I really needed was a few days rest. I told him not to worry about it and that after tomorrow I could rest as long as it took, one way or another. I don’t think he liked the way I said it, but I didn’t give a damn.