Chapter 2
I made my way down the corridor to another door, which led outside. I found myself on the sidewalk of a busy Parisian street in the middle of a sunny winter afternoon. Putting my hands in my coat pockets, I walked down the block to the nearest bar.
“Whisky. Glengoyne, si vous l’avez,” I ordered. The bartender pulled a dusty bottle off the shelf and began to pour without a word.
Several drams of Scotch later, I had finally started to calm down when a man sat down at the bar next to me. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, with silver hair down to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard. He smiled at me. I just raised an eyebrow.
“So,” the newcomer said in a soft Ulster brogue much like my own, “I hear the Tribunal went well. You should know that Marco has lodged an official complaint regarding your lack of decorum with the Lord Justice.”
“About what I expected,” I grunted.
“Aye, me too.” He chuckled. “You’ve never been known for your tact or subtlety. You get that from your mother.”
“What the fuck was Gertrude thinking, making Marco the chair of the Tribunal?” I asked as I threw back the remains of my whisky. “Do you want one?”
He nodded and I signaled the bartender to bring us two more glasses.
“Dois-je simplement laisser la bouteille?” he asked. I nodded and he set the bottle down in front of me, with a new glass for my companion.
I poured for both of us, and he took a long sip, letting the whisky sit on his tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.
“Ah, that’s good stuff. You’ve always had good taste in whisky, Thomas.” He paused, savoring the light burn before continuing. “Anyway, the Lord Justice made Marco the chair because everyone knows Adaeze is already on your side, and Vishruth is inclined toward autonomy in general, at least for the First Rank. Marco was the only one on that Tribunal your accusers see as representing their interests, and thus it was important that he be the chair or any potential finding in your favor would automatically be considered suspect. Especially given your relationship to the King and the Lord Marshal.”
I grunted. “That’s why you’re the politician and I’m not,” I said.
“Indeed.” He laughed. “Anyway, I don’t think the Tribunal will find against you. Your mother is currently testifying to the events of the night you killed this Johannes fellow. Janus, I mean. And the evidence is quite clear about Samantha Carr turning rogue. Apart from some officious prigs like Marco, and a few old fuddy-duddies who don’t see the difference between flexible customs and ironbound laws, no one on our side thinks you did anything unreasonable or unjustifiable given the circumstances. And even if Vishruth does end up siding with Marco on the charge of not telling us about Johannes-Janus when you first learned of him, the worst that’ll happen is an official warning not to keep such secrets in the future.”
I just took another long sip of whisky.
“On our side?” I finally prompted.
“Aye.” He grimaced. “The Court received an official delegation from Olympus today. Mercury and Nemesis.”
“And how have I pissed off the Olympians?” I raised an eyebrow.
“It seems Janus was not only an ally of theirs in guiding Rome to glory and conquest, but had been officially adopted as a member of the tribe. The way they see it, you killing him without Jupiter’s leave was murder, and they demanded we hand you over to stand trial.”
“That’s…an interesting way of viewing what happened.” I shrugged. “I take it you told them to pound sand?”
“The Master of the Seal informed them he had carefully reviewed the wording of the Treaty of Vesuvius, and by his expert interpretation, even if Janus had personally signed it—which he had not—any protection it may have granted him as a member of the Olympians was forfeit once he and his cultists began killing humans on this side of the veil. Nemesis disagreed, claiming that there was no evidence Janus was involved beyond your testimony. When the Lord Marshal pointed out she’d personally witnessed him attempting to kill you, she argued that you’d provoked the fight by casting a shield, suggesting you were going to try to kill him first and his attack was only in self-defense. For a moment I thought Gertrude would have to physically restrain her to prevent a breach. But the Court officially considered the Olympian viewpoint and voted on the matter, as the Treaty requires.”
“And?” I asked.
“We unanimously told them to pound sand.” He chuckled.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I took a sip.
“No human sorcerer is ever going to stand trial in a Faerie court for killing another human on this side of the veil,” he said, shaking his head, “especially one who was actively in the process of trying to conquer the world. As King of the Arcane Court, informed by a vote of my High Council, I officially declared that this was an internal matter, and it would be handled by the Arcanum Tribunal that was already in progress. Nemesis wasn’t happy, but she and Mercury acknowledged we’d followed the letter of the law.”
I sipped at my whisky again, pondering this. So the Olympians were pissed at me. That was useful to know. But I was protected by the Treaty of Vesuvius, which bound them to its terms. They literally couldn’t hurt me—or any other human—without suffering severe magical consequences, unless I breached it first. Still, I’d better steer clear of them for a while, until things cooled down.
“Will you have dinner with your mother and me tonight?” he asked.
“Sorry, no.” I shook my head. “I’m gone as soon as the Tribunal issues its findings.”
“Oh?” He looked hurt, but covered it with taking a sip. “Not even sticking around for the election?”
“Rachel Liu has my proxy.” I shrugged. “Don’t worry, you and Mom have my vote. But I have plans this weekend, so I need to be home by tomorrow. Besides, I hate the politics. And the fucking whispers. The less time I spend in that hall, the better.”
He cocked his head. “The whispers?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Every Grand Conclave since the end of the Shadow War, it’s the same fucking thing. Do they think I can’t hear them?”
“No,” he shook his head, “they know you can hear them.”
“Then why do they bother shutting up when I walk into the room?”
He shrugged. “It’s generally considered rude to talk about people behind their back when they can see you doing so.”
“But it’s not rude to talk behind my back in the first place?”
“Oh, it definitely is,” he laughed, “but at least then they can pretend they weren’t doing so even if they know you can overhear them.”
I didn’t respond to that. I just swirled the whisky in my glass for a long moment, watching the golden liquid, before downing it and pouring another.
“Didn’t you decide to drink less after everything that happened with the Immortal?”
I shrugged. “I am drinking less. This is the first time I’ve had a drink before five o’clock in six months. But Marco pissed me off.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I have to be getting back to work. A runner will find you when the Tribunal is ready.”
“Alright. I guess I’ll see you at the next Grand Conclave.”
He grimaced as he stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “Thomas, it’s your life. But I would appreciate seeing you more often than for a few days every thirteen years. You’re my only son. I miss you.”
“You know where to find me,” I grunted. “Same address for almost sixty years now.”
“And we’ve had the same address for over two hundred, but you haven’t visited since before Tunguska. Maybe you could come for a week or two next year?”
“We’ll see,” I said. “So long, Dad.”
He looked at me for another moment, then left me alone with the bottle.
Hours later, as the sky outside was shifting to the pinks and purples of a winter sunset, a young woman entered the pub and looked around, then beelined over to where I sat at the bar.
“It’s time, Sorcerer Quinn,” she said quietly.
“What’s the decision?” I asked.
“I’ve been instructed to bring you back to the tribunal chamber.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I refuse to be in the same room as Marco Lombardi again. Tell that son of a bitch I’ll be right here waiting for their decision for ten more minutes, and if they haven’t sent word by then they can send it to my shop in Philly.”
The blood drained from her face.
“I—I can’t say that to a ranked Sorcerer—” she stammered.
“Of course not,” I snorted. “Use whatever wording you want, but pass along the message. They have until I finish this last dram of whisky, then I’ll be heading home. If they want to arrest me and can’t get off their asses inside of ten minutes, then they’ll just have to do it in Philadelphia. And if they don’t want to arrest me, there’s no need for me to be present anyway. Now run along.”
I had one sip left when the door opened again, almost exactly ten minutes later. Adaeze spotted me at the bar and calmly walked over.
I met her eyes. “Well?”
“By a vote of two to one,” she said with a smile, “the Tribunal has found no cause for formal censure or continued investigation. But Vishruth did want me to convey that you should think very carefully about keeping secrets like that from the Court in the future. And that if you find yourself needing to kill any more ranked Sorcerers gone rogue, you would do well to have more witnesses.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I grunted as I stood up from my stool. I laid a few two-hundred Euro notes on the bar to pay for the bottle.
“What’s next for you, Thomas?” Adaeze asked.
I shrugged. “I have a shop to run.”
“Really? Back to your hermitage?” she replied with a raised eyebrow.
“What else should I do?”
“Well, your mother and I were hoping that recent events may have reminded you of the importance of what we do here, and inspired you to return to active service.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head. “Marco’s an ass, granted, but he and his ilk aren’t the dominant force in the Arcanum. Don’t let them blind you to all the good we do.”
“I’ve seen what the Arcanum does first-hand, Adaeze, many times. I have the scars and the nightmares to prove it. Even if the bureaucrats weren’t such a giant pain in the ass, I have no desire to work for an organization that asks me to do the things I’ve done in its name. My answer is no.”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “I won’t press the matter. How are you getting home?”
“The usual way,” I said. “A first-class flight.”
“Why not just go through the Otherworld? To Philadelphia from here is not so far.”
“Because,” I answered with a soft snort, “apart from the time dilation making the trip take almost the same amount of time on this side of veil, getting to Philly through the Otherworld would take me through the heart of Tír na nÓg, and I currently owe a favor to Lugh. I’d rather not risk it—out of sight, out of mind.”
She chuckled. “I completely forgot about that part of Rachel’s report. Well, then, until next time, Thomas.”
“Goodbye, Adaeze. Thanks for your vote in the Tribunal.”
“Tribunal votes are secret. You’ll never know who it was who voted for censure,” she replied with a wink. “Now don’t let it be another thirteen years until next time.”
“I’m getting that a lot lately.”